Adrian Chiles: How I Learned to Love Mondays After Finding the Perfect Work-Life Balance
I never realized how much I needed work until it was gone. But now, after years of struggle, I have rediscovered my passion for Mondays. It has been a profound and transformative journey.
The Early Years: School and Scaffolding
School Mondays were absolutely dreadful. I can still feel the harshness of the freshly laundered uniform, its stiff material a brutal contrast to the softness of the weekend. It was a misery I took for granted.
Later, I spent a year working for my father's scaffolding company. The Monday mood was terrible, especially in Handsworth during midwinter—dark, freezing, and wet. We faced a week's worth of scaffolding to erect and dismantle, with despondence reigning supreme. The only solace was knowing this was just a gap year, not my permanent life, unlike my workmates who lacked that endpoint.
University and Journalism: A Shift in Perspective
At university, Mondays were neutral—just another day of minimal lectures and overwhelming reading lists filled with books I often couldn't comprehend.
Then, I entered journalism and broadcasting. Suddenly, Mondays lost their negative connotation because every day was thrilling. I found myself presenting radio and television programmes, which was initially terrifying but soon became fulfilling and rarely boring. I worked six or seven days a week, including presenting Match of the Day 2 on Sunday evenings. I'd sign off with, "That's it from us. Have a bearable week at work," assuming viewers dreaded Monday mornings. For me, living the dream, Mondays didn't matter.
It never felt like Philip Larkin's toad work was squatting on my life, but the pressure mounted as my profile grew. Climbing the greasy pole of ambition was exhausting, and clinging on during the slide was even more draining. There was a mix of joy and humiliation when I was removed from a breakfast TV show, left with just football matches and tournaments. My diary cleared, giving me time to be a better parent and person, do charity work, and write a novel. I thought I'd enjoy life more with extra time.
The Downfall: Too Much Time and Rediscovery
Instead, I became miserable beyond measure. With too much time on my hands, and after losing the football gig, I started presenting radio programmes on Radio 5 Live for two days a week, which was wonderful. The rest of the time, I scrabbled for work, often having little to do. Mondays meant nothing again.
Two days of work per week weren't enough to earn the right to enjoy the other five. Then, I got this column, covering Wednesdays, but three guaranteed workdays still weren't sufficient for my sanity. It wasn't until I landed another gig on Radio 4 on Saturday mornings that things changed. Now, I have four proper workdays a week—Wednesday to Saturday—outnumbering my days off.
The Perfect Balance: Structure and Sanity
This structure, though not as physically demanding as scaffolding, has been crucial. I didn't realize how much I needed it. Perhaps humans are designed to operate this way, or maybe it's just me.
At last, I have a routine again. By Sunday, I'm knackered from work, and come Monday, I'm in heaven because I can do very little without feeling guilty. For the first time in a long while, I truly love Mondays. This balance has restored my well-being and given me a newfound appreciation for both work and leisure.
