Thursday has often been used as a great excuse to crack into a bottle of something… Or, to adopt a less passive voice, I have often used Thursday as a great excuse to crack into a bottle of something.

Head out for just a few after work? Especially if there’s been a late duty on, or a pre-weekend, get-this-out-of-the-way meeting that has overrun, or if there’s a match on…

The precise terms of the rationale may vary, but most frequently there wouldn’t even need to be one. Pre-weekend lash bravado, lack of responsibility (meaning children), the joy to come of seeing out Friday with a mild thirst waiting to be slaked.

In recent years, having reached a certain demographic and level of self-awareness, the simple fact of wanting to get some booze in, being a grown adult and having worked for it, has been enough.

And the amount varies, obviously, depending on context. Exceeding rare to get more than merry on a weeknight nowadays. Teaching is next to impossible with a head on. So, a half bottle of wine would probably do.

But the other Thursdays, when it might be two or three times that, on top of starter pints, or those not-really-drink gin and tonics in cans. They’re the ones make my head hurt just thinking about them.

The weekend mood that came spring-like upon everyone today was unfuelled by any such urges, which is a feeling worth foregrounding. It’s the feeling I’m foregrounding.