An offer by campaigners hard to refuse, a day off mirrors the practice a neighbouring nation juggles schedules to implement. Consider the benefits a 32-hour working week affords that economy.
As the French might say, En Marche towards …
Excitement explodes into street theatre as the hands of the Brexit clock creep towards the midnight deadline that might yet offer a whole new dawn - if the law of the land, serially under stress, is enacted.
Weekends are carnival in the streets of town and city as the socially aligned, alerted by smart phones, gather to support/protest as the mood of the moment dictates. Prompted by media feeding-frenzy, the parade straggles under explanatory, often outrageous, slogans.
Some plead for tolerance towards the socially uncomfortable, defiantly out of step with the natural order.
Characteristically impatient to join unregulated fun are the new kids on the block, quitting Friday lessons, eagerly supported by right-on teachers and woke parents voicing mankind’s oldest-ever warning – the end is nigh.
The fact that aping the worst examples of their elders and enjoying freedom from boring routine and lessons might be beside the point.
So how would we best spend the extra day, ours should the electorate have the opportunity to welcome it? Not everyone is inclined to carry a banner.
Leisure after all involves consuming energy, even if only driving to the gym.
Just joining the march means taking the car, hopping a train or jumping a bus; even tapping the app tends to boost the carbon count.
Committed to reality and building on long experience of the art of the possible, business steers a careful path through seven days’ world of work, taking the steps necessary to avoid the worst excesses of idealism.
The marchers are free to march on ..
… just so long as the wheels of the economy keep turning.