Sod work, who’s with me?

Ben Wildsmith Sundays are a tyranny. The morning is OK, pottering around, lingering over breakfast and absorbing the agreeable lo-energy vibe. By mid-afternoon, though, Monday starts looming over your contentment like a bailiff. I remember, as a kid, the queasy feeling as the theme for Harry Secombe’s Highway came on television, heralding the late Sunday…