Tuesday, Tuesday

I love Tuesdays. It’s my favourite day of the week because I learned a while ago that being grateful for each and every Tuesday is pivotal for living a happier life.

My friend and Rebecca and I used to watch Holby City on Tuesday nights at 8pm. Even when I moved hundreds of miles away across country and continent, we’d still make the commitment every week. If you’re also a fan of hospital-based dramas, you’ll know Holby City is the most action-packed facility in the UK with all kinds of riveting storylines going on each week.

The real reason we watched Holby City every Tuesday night at 8pm, was for Mr. Hanssen. The lofty, softly-spoken, Swede was dubbed TV’s new Mr. Nasty when making his Holby debut back in 2010 – and we couldn’t get enough of him. Stern, irritable and ‘a damn good doctor’, Bex and me we’re infatuated with him. Texting our outrage at any episode in which he didn’t feature heavily.

Henrik Hanssen had it all. Tall, dark, handsome, Consultant General Surgeon, later sole Director of Surgery and CEO of the Hospital Trust. He’s exactly the man your parents want you to marry. The other alluring aspect of Henrik’s storylines is that they rarely if ever involved him having any romantic liaisons. Winner! This left our imaginations free to wonder how the haughty top consultant would deal with our cheeky insolence and depraved comments about his ‘skillful hands’.

I feel I should offer some kind of apology to actor Guy Henry, who was thrust into the limelight as Henrik and therefore the subject of depraved comments every Tuesday night at 8pm. I had the opportunity to interview Guy at MCM Comic Con London a few years ago. I happened to be dressed as Cat Woman at the time, including thigh-high PVC boots and cat ears and to tell you the truth, I didn’t think I could remain professional in such get up and so I bottled it. Rebecca would be furious.

Rebecca has cancer. Fuck, it was so aggressive. She was amazing and strong and matter of fact and I loved that about her more than anything.  She’d taught her kids the song to Spongebob Squarepants so that if she was to ”drop on the deck and flop like a fish’ they knew what to do.

Tuesday 8pm is prime time for me and Rebecca still. I’ve just replaced the texts with thoughts and memories. Mr. Hanssen has come and gone in lots of different series since Bex died and whichever program takes Holby’s place, I try and make it so we’d have still text our scandalous observations throughout. Bake Off was a good one. She’d have loved the soggy bottoms and innuendo.

I would look forward to our 8pm date so much that in Rebecca’s memory, I’ve mentally extended the good vibes to the entire day. Tuesday is my day. I get shit done. I show up and graft so that when 8pm hits, I feel like I’ve earned the right to chill out and remember her and the laughs we shared. If you share a Tuesday with me, you’re getting me at my best, most determined, and switched on.

If you share an 8pm slot with me, damn you’re special. 8pm is the golden hour. The one reserved for the best of friends, the best of people, the best memories.

Love your Tuesday, embrace this mid-week gem for what it is. A blessing. Watch a random hospital drama, perve on a mysterious, handsome character, text your mates, get them involved, make it a long-standing, fun, ridiculous event that you look back on and smile. Because you will trust me.



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