Yes, I had a great one, and thank you for asking. It was very restful and relaxing, which was something I needed after the stressful fag end to last week (admittedly, the stress was down to the need to get oodles of things done in a short time so that I could take a Saturday off without feeling guilty – my life, mostly, consists of stumbling from one Catch-22 situation to the next).
What with Friday being the first day of summer, and Saturday forecast to be the last, I decided to head for the coast and, thanks to the miracle of buses being not only on time but arriving early at their destination, I was in Gorleston on the east coast just after 9.00. After a brief shuffle round the town centre I headed down to the front and, kicking off my trainers and socks, headed out on a paddle that took me for miles, with the occasional diversion up onto the beach when the shingle underfoot overwhelmed my latent masochism. The water was cold at first, but I soon adjusted and managed to convince myself that it was healthy and refreshing. The sun was shining and there wasn’t much wind, and quite a few people had come out to play, but being a misanthrope I found an isolated spot where I could read my book in peace (Harlan Coben’s No Second Chance), soak up some rays and watch the world wander by, deviating from this routine only briefly when I trekked back up into town to purchase some serviceable chips to eat and check my emails at the library.
In the evening I read some more (my first Coben, and it was really rather good), watched an episode of Charlie’s Angels Series 3 on DVD, and spoke to both The Imaginary Girlfriend and Miss P, comparing our days.
Sunday was more of the same. A lie in, a long bath, a walk round the village, saying hello to people. Start reading another book (The Company Man by Robert Jackson Bennett). Lunch of garlic chicken in breadcrumbs with salad, eaten to the music of Debussy, with Prelude a l’apres-midi d’un faune and La Mer particular favourites of mine. An evening with the Angels again, but films this time, not the series (more on those later). And so to bed some time after 23.00, but not to sleep as I had to phone Miss P for our end of day conversation.
It all sounds rather boring, and I guess it was, but then, the Chinese knew what they were about when they coined the phrase ‘may you live in interesting times’ as a curse. I’ll try to be interesting some other time. Promise.
And, after that dull but idyllic weekend, Monday morning I turn the computer on and wait patiently for it all to turn to shit.
*The Subject line comes from a song on The Who’s Quadrophenia, loosely adapted by moi – “He’ll ask me about my weekend, but he never betrays what he thinks.” The ‘he’ in the song is the character’s psychiatrist, but I’m really not interested in anyone’s opinion of whatever mental health issues I have.