It was a Wednesday. Objectively the worst day of the week. That day when the productive energy of returning from a regenerating weekend of bowls, chicken parmigiana and some amber liquid are well and truly spent. Empirically it is the day furthest away from both the preceding or proceeding weekend. They don’t call it hump day for nothing, it’s effectively the harsh intimidating cliff face leading to the tip of the mountain - and you’re stuck in line behind a troop of mountaineers all looking to leap over the summit.

I have it on good authority taxes were created on a Wednesday; some ancient tribe leader was sitting around (no doubt rocking back on his tree stump staring at the sky after a relatively productive Monday and Tuesday) and had the thought - what if everything was a little worse for everyone else and a lot easier for me. Remember taxes in those days weren’t going towards filling potholes or mowing the park.

Yes all the worst atrocities of the world occurred on a Wednesday. The final siege of Carthage began on a Wednesday. Lincoln was shot on a Wednesday. Charles Manson was born on a Wednesday. Disco was first conceived on a Wednesday. And Wednesday is the day Samantha stops out the front for a chat as you’re going to put the bins out (somehow happening every... single... time). Samantha is an empty vessel, somehow devoid of all charisma whilst considering herself the most interesting person in existence. And obsessed with horses... uggh, she goes riding every second Wednesday.

Ragnarok certainly took place on a Wednesday, and of course Wednesday is Odin’s day, and Odin is a grumpy old crank.

On the subject of Gods, consider this; on the third day (Wednesday) God created the land, seas, plants and trees. This may sound like things you can’t do without, and in fairness they probably are. But think about if from God’s perspective; it’s the first part of creation he really had to put some effort into. The first day he simply turned up the dimmer switch to create light. The second day he just needed to create the sky, effectively a big blue void of nothing since water wasn’t created yet to form clouds. All of a sudden he was creating horizons of dirt and rock and desert (just think of the beard sand). And then he had to tediously populate the lands and seas with every plant in existence.

And thus Wednesday is clearly the worst kind of day to be lost and alone on a mountain.