2012-08-09

venta: (Default)
2012-08-09 11:11 am
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She took me to a restaurant: Fulham Broadway.

Earlier in the week, I nearly sent someone an email entitled "Wembley", because I was asking about their plans for Wednesday. And then I changed my mind, because I wasn't sure how many people frequently substitute Wembley for Wednesday.

My family does, but that's due to a conversation overheard by my grandad. He was on a train through London in the 40s, in a carriage with two gentlemen who were cheerful as newts. One peered out into the darkness, and the following conversation ensued:

"Is this Wembley?"
"No, it's Thursday."
"So am I! Let's have a drink."

However, I was moved yesterday to wonder whether this conversation was, in fact, the sort of apocryphal exchange that everyone's grandfather heard on a train in the 40s.

The answer, rather disappointingly, turns out to be yes.

Even if it is a hoary old joke, it's probably far too late for me to remove from my brain the fundamental belief that the working week goes Monday, Tuesday, Wembley...