You might ask, “Why doesn’t the government just hand us a random Monday in July?” Well, historically, bank holidays are tied to religious feasts, royal birthdays, or harvest seasons. July is apparently too busy being summer to warrant a day off. It’s the month where everything is already on fire—metaphorically and, given recent heatwaves, sometimes literally. There’s no saint’s day big enough, and the Queen’s official birthday is in June. So we’re left with a barren, holiday-free wasteland.
Think of it like this: July is the middle child of months. It’s not exciting as June’s solstice, not cozy as December’s Yule, and not as forgiving as August’s late-summer vibe. It just sits there, eating all the ice cream, and gives you nothing in return. Meanwhile, Scotland gets a cheeky Battle of the Boyne bank holiday on July 12 (yes, really), and Northern Ireland celebrates with an Orangemen’s parade. But for the rest of the UK? Crickets.
What We Do Instead (The Coping Mechanisms)
So, how do we survive a bank holiday-less July? We improvise. I’ve seen colleagues take a “sick day” that miraculously coincided with a Thursday before a sunny Friday. Others just stare at their calendars and mutter, “I’ll take a half-day on the 15th because my plant looks sad.” It’s pathetic, really—like asking for a raise and getting a firm handshake.
But here’s the funny part: July is full of unofficial holidays. Ever heard of World Chocolate Day (July 7)? Or National Fry Your Own Eggs Day (July 16)? No? Neither did your boss. But you can bet your last biscuit that someone in HR will absolutely not approve a day off for that. Yet we still try. I once emailed my manager, “I’m taking July 12 off for National Cheesecake Day.” She replied, “Is that a real holiday?” I said, “It is in my house.” She didn’t reply. I didn’t go in.
And let’s not forget the biggest July tradition of all: pretending the heatwave doesn’t exist. You wake up at 5 a.m. because the bedroom is a furnace, drink a cold brew that’s gone tepid by 8, and then spend the whole workday staring at the clock, thinking, “If only this were a bank holiday, I’d be at the beach.” Instead, you’re in an office with a fan that sounds like a dying lawnmower. It’s a shared experience, a national trauma. We bond over it.
Bank Holidays 2026: Maximise your time off | roadsurfer
