Friday morning felt heavier than usual, despite the promise of the weekend ahead. The clouds were still there, though not quite as oppressive as yesterday, and there was a restless quality to the air that made everything feel unsettled. Still 5:30 AM, still the same routine, but somehow nothing felt quite normal anymore.

The robin was on the lawn, bobbing along in that distinctive way robins have, stopping every few steps to cock its head and listen for movement beneath the grass. As I watched, it suddenly darted forward and came up with a wriggling green grub, which it held proudly for a moment before swallowing it down.

I filled my glass with water and flicked on the kettle. Friday meant muesli, I always liked mixing things up a bit during the week, and somehow muesli felt like the right way to ease into the weekend. The shower was running upstairs, Dave maintaining his routine despite what may or maybe not be hurtling towards us.

The radio crackled to life as I poured the muesli into my bowl, and I was immediately struck by Gary doing what sounded like a perfect Donald Trump impression.

"This is the biggest, some say the best kind of asteroid, many people say this, and they're not wrong, you know who is wrong, the Chinese, they say it's a bad asteroid, I'm not so sure. The Chinese want to blow it up, but I think we should blow it up more than the Chinese would even think, more than anyone would think. They'll know it's right once they see my plan and I have a plan, believe me, a beautiful plan that I've been thinking about for some time, just in case this happened. Because I'm always planning ahead, always thinking, even though nobody knew this was coming, I knew. I plan ahead like nobody's ever planned ahead before."

The impression was spot-on, every pause, every inflection perfectly captured. Gary had clearly been practicing.

He coughed as he dropped the impression, his voice returning to its usual Essex tones. "But enough of that; it's fry-up Friday with me, DJ G-Raff! Now it'll soon be the weekend and I know you're all keen to be off out partying, but one more work day to get through!"

I added milk to my muesli, listening as Gary seemed to stumble slightly over his words.

"We have Paul on the phone from Laindon. Paul, my boy, how may I be of your service?" Gary sort of blundered out the greeting.

A young voice, clearly nervous, came through the radio. Paul sounded like he was maybe thirteen or fourteen. "Um, hi Gary. Could you play 'Friday I'm in Love' by The Cure? But not for me; it's for my friend Jenny."

"Ooooo!" Gary's response was over the top and theatrical, causing some nervous laughter from Paul.

I reached for the radio dial as quickly as I could, hitting the off button the moment the song's opening notes began. I wasn't in the mood for love songs, especially not teenage dedications.

I stood there for a moment with my hands on the countertop, trying to collect myself, when I heard a rhythmic tapping sound. Looking up, I saw a bumblebee repeatedly bouncing off the kitchen window, apparently convinced it could fly through the glass if it just tried hard enough.

Eventually it seemed to give up and settled on the windowsill for a moment, rubbing its head as if nursing a headache, before finally flying off to find a more sensible route to wherever it was going.

I moved my breakfast to the table just as Dave appeared in the doorway, looking fresh and alert despite the circumstances. He carried what appeared to be a perfectly crafted cappuccino, complete with foam art on top.

I stared at it for a moment, wondering how on earth he'd managed to make a cappuccino when we didn't have an espresso machine, but quickly dismissed the thought. Trying to understand Dave's morning beverage logistics was a waste of mental energy.

He sat down across from me, took a careful sip of his impossible coffee, and gazed out at the garden where the robin was still hunting for breakfast. He looked at me and took a deep breath, I just knew another of his shower thoughts were about to be shared.

"You know," Dave said, setting down his cappuccino with the satisfied air of someone who'd just solved a complex physics problem, "I like to think if everyone in the world turned east and farted at exactly the same time, the world would spin faster for a bit."

I sighed heavily, shook my head, and muttered under my breath, "What the fuck, Dave."