Friday night is wonderful as it is the end of the working/school week. We scarper to the pub, head out on the town, collapse in front of the telly, drink, socialise relax; having survived another week.
But it’s Saturday that is the jewel in the crown of the weekend. Ah, Saturday, who stretches before me this frosty morning with all your charms and joys. A day of simple pleasures, cheap indulgences: a happy day.
On Saturdays I write my blog, up-load my latest bit of fun to Fan Fiction, I walk my dog, over the fields, to the shops for the papers. I chat to my beloved, we throw the ball and the dog returns home happy and ready for his bones. We then spend the day in individual pursuits; some study, some work, reading the papers, perhaps a snooze, sometimes a meal out, a bottle of wine. These days Saturdays pass like a trip across a calm sea.
In the somewhat distant past Saturday was race day. For all of my teenage years and into my 20s I spent my weekends on the water. I sailed my rainbow – Tiger-Country – to oblivion at the end of the fleet with my fellow incapables. We were competent but not particularly competitive. Fletch, Guy and me, mouldering at the arse end of competition, having a great time. (Well perhaps the for’ard hands did not so much, as they got a great deal wetter than Guy, Fletch and me. But now mine, Paul, runs part of the ANZ Bank, so clearly not traumatised by Saturday seasons on the Derwent with me.)
Then I went rowing and Saturdays remained on the water but racing with girls now, more grunt, more races, more wins too and lot more exhaustion but I did love it. Not to mention the plethora of handsome fit men, also half naked for most of the day. Can’t argue with that. Thence to the pub, the trip home, unloading the boats and off to a party somewhere. Saturday night was party night in my town.
Saturdays can be as busy as you want, as chilled as you want. It’s that lovely moment in the week when the world seems all right again, all things are possible once more. Enjoy your Saturday, look forward to Christmas, to a visit to Oxford, to time with your family, your friends, doing what you want to do because Saturday belongs to us all, in whatever way we want.
Live, love it, own it – make Saturdays your own. (Images courtesy Google Images and Private Collection)