Even in a monastery, where there is nothing to trouble or vex anyone and all is bliss and serenity (Oh, the irony! Ed.), Monday mornings can be difficult. After the liturgical and gastronomic highs of Sunday, Monday can be rather flat. There is the laundry to do plus a thousand other mundane tasks, and not even a good dinner to look forward to. For reasons entirely beyond me, it always seems as though the weather is colder, the atmosphere bleaker, and everyone, dog included, less aimiable than the day before. Much as I hate to admit it, that means conditions are perfect for putting into practice what we preach. This is the day, this is the moment, for that cheerful courtesy, that tactful kindness, that generous service that looked so attractive yesterday but which we weren’t asked to give then. However gloomy or glum that Monday morning feeling may make us, we know we can transcend it. Like St Willibrord, whose feast-day this is, we just have to keep plugging away at it, doing what we can. And when you think what he and the Anglo-Saxon missionaries achieved, there is enough inspiration there to take us through a lifetime of Monday mornings!