As a kid, the high point of the week was always Saturday afternoon, with Saturday morning running a close second. It meant freedom, a heavenly moment between school and Sunday. It meant shops, comics, going “up the field” with your mates. Ice cream, bubblegum, biking over the bypass into the countryside, and topping it all off with Doctor Who or the Lone Ranger. It made the rest of the week bearable.
These days, one day blurs into another (no bad thing), but Saturday retains its magic. I spent mine, or a good part of it, in the hammock on the deck. Real coconut juice in a real coconut from our own tree at my elbow, Kindle with a Lew Archer novel in my lap, dogs snooting about. Watching nothing at all happen to the river in the sun.
You and yours?