(Just felt I should get the formalities out of the way first)
It's been a long week, and much treacle has been waded through. It's been, to borrow someone else's sense of the grandiose, a journey.
It's about an hour ago that I finished my last work appointment of the day, and stood at a bus stop in a less-than-salubrious part of town, eager to put work behind me and to contemplate some level of relaxation or enjoyment or some equally strange notion.
Rush hour was starting to hit full flow, and in the traffic queue on the other side of the road was a sleek black car containing a young, streetwise-looking driver and (presumably) his girlfriend. They had their windows closed but the sound system was pumping out a sufficient amount of decibels that I could hear the music well enough.
Loud music it was, and this young couple were nodding their heads back and forth in time to its relentless onslaught.
I wouldn't normally take any especial notice of this. It's hardly a rare occurrence on the city streets these days.
However, what they were churning out over the speakers was orchestral music. Really rousing, stirring, Last-Night-of-the-Proms stuff. It really made me smile, and they were clearly loving it. They spotted me and I grinned and put my thumbs up, so they wound the window down to allow me further appreciation of it, grinning back at me as they did.
A minute or two later they were off, the traffic queue finally moving on. But it was just one of those nice and unexpected little moments, and it seemed to mark in clear terms that work was over and that the weekend had begun.
It's not all grumpiness round these parts.