I think I'm starting to get control of that stubborn part of my brain that used to launch me into black depression the night before I'm due back to work after two weeks holiday.
Now, rather than feeling like curling into a ball and dying on the Sunday evening, I quietly sit and reflect on the wasted hours of my precious life spent pleasing people I don't particularly care about, while keeping one eye dutifully on the endless Top Gear repeats on Dave.
The upshot of it all is that I should really start playing the lottery...
(More chance of winning an olympic gold medal...I wonder when they'll make being pissed off an event?)