Thursday morning felt brighter despite the overcast sky. The rain had stopped overnight, leaving everything looking fresh and clean, though the clouds still hung low enough to mute the early sunlight. There was a sense of the world having been washed and reset, ready for whatever the day might bring.

I could hear the robin singing away at the top of next door's pine tree, not its usual perch in our silver birch, but somewhere higher up in the neighbour’s garden. I could just make out the silhouette of the bird against the grey sky, a small dark shape pouring out its heart in song.

I filled my glass with water and flicked on the kettle. Thursday meant cornflakes again, back to the simple routine after yesterday's porridge. The shower was running upstairs; Dave maintaining his schedule despite the aftermath of yesterday's biblical downpour.

The radio crackled to life as I poured the cornflakes into my bowl, and Gary's voice carried the kind of news that seemed to demand attention.

"Now, we've got some rather significant international news this morning. Several governments are working together on a plan to hit the approaching asteroid with rockets. And speaking of rockets, our friends across the pond have been making some rather bold statements..."

Gary's voice suddenly shifted, and I knew immediately what was coming, his Trump impression was spot-on.

"I personally guarantee that these rockets, these big beautiful rockets, some say the most beautiful rockets ever built, believe me, will blow up this rock so hard it'll become a minor meteor shower for us all to enjoy. It's just a shame they can't delay it until July Fourth, would be tremendous, absolutely tremendous fireworks, the best fireworks you've ever seen. I'm not sure why they can't wait, probably China, always China. The Chinese don't want us to have nice things, they don't want us to celebrate properly. Sad!"

Gary dropped the impression with a laugh. "Right, well, moving on from international diplomacy... It's Thursday quiz day! Today it's about Star Wars, we missed May the Fourth but we had the prize anyway," Gary said with barely contained excitement. "So the question is on Star Wars and the prize is an official piece of the Death Star! I believe these are super rare, so we'll go straight to the phones. Ooh, lots of callers! What's our random number, Producer Kate? Okay, we'll go with caller eight!"

"Hi... Colin!"

"Oh my God, Gary! I can't believe I got through!" Colin's excitement was infectious. "I'm a massive Star Wars fan, have been since I was a kid. I live in a one-bedroom flat in Maldon but I've got a whole area set aside for my Star Wars memorabilia!"

Dramatic music began to play. "Right then, Colin, here's your question: In Star Wars: A New Hope, what is the name of the cantina where Luke Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi first meet Han Solo and Chewbacca?"

"Chalmun's Cantina in Mos Eisley!" Colin answered immediately.

Gary fumbled slightly. "Can we accept that? Well... yes, yes we can! It's very right! Wow, Colin, you know your stuff!"

"I'm over the moon!" Colin replied.

"That's no moon!" Gary shot back with a Star Wars reference that fell rather flat. "Right, well, before I tell you what you've won, what song shall we play for you?"

"'Living in a Box' by Living in a Box," Colin replied without hesitation.

"Great choice!" Gary responded enthusiastically. "And Colin, you've won an actual six-by-six-foot floor panel piece from the Star Wars set, from the actual Death Star's floor!"

There was a pause. "Oh... six foot?"

The song began, and I listened for a while, but my attention was drawn upward to the corner of the room where a large spider had taken up residence in an elaborate web. I'd have to remove it carefully and put it outside, couldn't have it living up there building webs all over the kitchen. But if Dave saw me relocating it, he'd start quoting Lord of the Rings again. "Our list of allies grows thin," he'd say with mock solemnity. Silly Dave and his Fellowship references.

The song hit its chorus and I reached for the radio dial, turning it off as I shut the window after dealing with my eight-legged visitor, who was now happily wondering off along the windowsill.

I'd just settled at the table with my breakfast when Dave appeared in the doorway, looking surprisingly alert for a Thursday morning, his zebra onesie looked fresh despite me never seeing him wash it. He carried what appeared to be a large cup filled to the brim with dark espresso, it must have contained three or four shots' worth of coffee. The caffeine content alone should have made him vibrate.

He sat down across from me, took a careful sip of his concentrated coffee, and gazed out toward where the robin was still singing in the pine tree. He wiped his hand against his face removing the dribble of coffee from the corner of his mouth.

"You know," Dave said, setting down his oversized espresso with the satisfied air of someone who'd just solved a major sociological puzzle, "I like to think out of all the people in the world, so many must be making a bad choice right at this very moment. Makes me feel better about my choices, I mean so many other people are doing stupid things too; I'm just one of the herd, man."

I roll my eyes and said, "What the fuck, Dave."