Whilst it seems an almost unnecessary comment, days being days and following one from another as they do, it is worth noting that not all days are equal.
Some days are clear, and the sound of them is pure, like a boy treble.
Some days are warm, and glow with the deep gold of firelight.
Some days are fast, blurred as the scene from an express train window, and you reach the evening exhausted but not where you were when you awoke.
Some days are slow, leisurely in their approach, and wind down to no particular conclusion.
Some days are grey, featureless and misty, like shopping for offal in drizzle.
Some days are cold, and sharp, and have icicles and snowflakes waiting to catch you unawares.
Some days are golden, with the light of liquid luck to guide your steps.
And some days are leaden and dark, midnight at dawn and midday and when the evening sun sets.
And so, you see, not all days are the same at all.
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