Monday mornings eh? Don't ya just love 'em? There's nothing like that Sunday induced lie-in that makes sleeping on a Sunday night difficult, which of course then leads to getting up on a Monday morning in a bad mood.

I reckon that you could probably reduce the divorce rate by half just by banning Monday mornings. Take this morning, for example, L and I managed to be the king and queen of grumpy this morning. (or gwumpy as L puts it). And so L headed off to work and we hardly spoke. I started work early and got a feature online, and felt self-righteous about it, despite being knackered. Because I'm stupid like that.

Daft isn't it what Monday mornings can do to you? If I'd have had enough cash I'd have bought a ticket at the Tube station just to get on the platform and give her a hug. Instead I stood at the window with an angel on my shoulder saying, "This is going to cost you a small fortune in Charbonnel & Walker chocolates and footrubs matey."

Perhaps, though I don't want you to get the impression I charge for footrubs.

But then, as couples go, we're absolutely terrible at arguing. We're just really incapable of doing it for very long at all. We will try to argue then both try to back-pedal and accommodate the views of the other. So we end up arguing each other's case as vehemently as our own. If L's train hadn't arrived so quickly I reckon I'd have managed to dance about (I know a special dance that always makes L D) on the roof making whooping noises and holding a banner that said "I'm Sorry", but I couldn't find a big enough piece of cardboard in time.

Now I'm wondering if L could see such a piece of cardboard and read what it says from her desk, it being on a ear-popping/nose-bleeding inducing high floor of an office building. So if you see a contrite-looking young man in sackcloth and ashes wandering around the Westminster area at 5pm this afternoon, that'll be me.

Monday mornings? They should be banned.