Joanna Cannon had some amazing entries:
Some Mondays are the beige corduroy of procrastination.
Sundays are knitted in shades of childhood and the rose-tinted pull of yesterdays.
Saturdays are the fresh white of laundered sheets, beating on a clothes line.
Fridays are the sharp green of Summer bracken on a walk of long ago.
Thursdays are heavy, velveted purple. They hush and whisper and curtain my weekend just out of sight.
Wednesdays are sandstone yellow. A dry, dusty footpath, bridging a river of days.
Tuesdays are deep slated grey. Calm and unflustered and darkened with rain .
Authorofbree: Mondays are the sticky, filthy feel of wet sand on your fingertips
Catdownunder: Tuesday is the green top of a carrot
Wednesday is white heat. The herald of the first contraction and the push toward a dazzling new day.MikeCail: Saturdays can be either glorious red and white or ominous purple and black, depending on what Final Score says at 4:45pm. (!)
Fridays are the grey in the heart of a lonely schoolchild, bleeding darker as she creeps her way home.
Black Saturday, bottomless pit of laundry, ironing and half-finished DIY projects.AKJames61:
Soft caramel brown Wednesday blends together the top and the tail.
Fridays are magenta. Adrenalin fuelled, speeding, erupting into passionate fires. A promise for Saturday.Almostmoriarty: Sundays – a melancholy grey, lifted slowly to dirty white with church bells, dog in leaves and sleepy fires.
Sundays are black. A drawing down of blinds on freedom. A new working week waits, cloaked in shadows.
Mcrogerson: Sundays are chestnut brown, scented with woodsmoke, old papers and warm wool.
Angrychem: Wednesdays are tinged green with uncertainty, poised between Tuesdays, blue, and Thursdays, shading triumphantly into orange.
Laura_E_James: Sunday swings to the song of the golden sax; a round sound for a wholesome day.
Jo: Sundays are foggy - in that you-know-there-is-something-out-there-but-can't-quite-find-it sort of way.
Out of the blue comes Monday: a grumpy teenager smelling like coffee.
Thursdays are thirsty. Sandy, 30, goes begging for guineas for Guinness.Dirtywhitecandy: Mondays are red. So are all the other days. Thank god for hair dye. (!)
Helen: Sunday starts off an egg-yolk yellow. By Sunday evening it has turned to blackest black as the cloud of Monday morning approaches.
Jenni: Saturdays are the emerald jealousy of party invites mixed the white of an empty computer screen.
Melinda: Saturday mornings: the caramel of cinnamon-sprinkled latte lie-ins
Jason: Monday morning dawned black as it always did with the memory of the homework I hadn't done, but today it was haloed in bright yellow; a yellow which whispered, 'Mandy.'
A special mention for poor Clare Wartnaby, who had an interview the next day and therefore could only feel, “Tuesdays are scary.” I hope it went well!
Anyway, I said the winners of the Crabbit bags would be picked at random, not based on any other kind of judgement, and so the winners are…drum roll…
Well done! Email your addresses to firstname.lastname@example.org and I’ll get your bags to you as soon as possible.
Thank you to everyone for joining in and revealing your talent for synaesthetic writing.
I do hope you bought a copy of Mondays are Red or at least have told someone about it? I can’t tell you how much I need you! A lot is riding on this and if it doesn’t work decently I won’t do it with the rest of my novels. Pretty pleeeese with bells on, if you think I’m worth it. Amazon UK link is here and US is here. (I’m currently trying to find out why the US page doesn’t have the correct product description and reviews - it merely has a review from a librarian who wrongly thought teenagers wouldn't understand the book. I found that review rather patronising nine years ago and that feeling hasn't waned!)