Are saturdays as inexplicably exciting to any of you as they are to me?
I am self-employed, so I can choose which days I take off out of all seven available, and I have been known to have lie-ins on weekdays. I can also choose which days I want to party, and usually the best nights out are impromptu ones which just sort of happen amongst a few friends on a week night, though they are now quite rare because most of my friends and I have given up binges of any sort.
I have never had the slightest interest in any sport, so I am not looking forward to any football matches or whatever, and a lot of rugby now seems to happen on sundays.
I suppose I just breathe in the general air of holiday and relaxation which permeates town on saturdays, and I always have.
When I was a kid, saturdays for me consisted of getting up at about 9.30 having woken up in the luxurious knowledge that I did not have to attend the hated school, eating a bit of breakfast, then catching the number 63 bus into town. In town I would head straight for the newly opened'Wimpy Bar' and have a fashionable espresso coffee whilst ogling the slightly older girls who I did not dare to approach for fear of rejection (oh the misery of adolescence).
Then I probably just wandered about, trying to avoid eye-contact with the Teddy-Boys, squaddies and later Mods and Rockers (more Mods than Rockers - Woking was a Mod stronghold, and home to some famous Mod pop-stars). Woking (an absolute shit-hole of a town) was full of these desperadoes, and probably still is. The closest thing to any meaningful activity was finding a way of spending my half-crown pocket money on something completely useless (this was before I developed a taste for glass and candlesticks).
These days, I do something very similar with my saturdays, but without having to catch a bus to go into town. If I am on holiday, I often find myself on a glorious, palm-fringed beach remembering that it is a saturday, and actually feel a pang of regret that I am not in a British town, aimlessly wandering about. Even I think this is a sad and pathetic response from a pitiful creature of habit.
Aside from not driving to work, saturdays do not differ much from any other day of the week for me - I still follow the same sort of routine, like the visit to the pub for a couple of drinks with friends, always leaving before 7.00 in the evening to go home and cook.
I suppose this apathetic attitude to to life in general and saturdays in particular which I have been displaying since childhood may put me in good stead to deal with extreme old age, even though it has severely affected my career as a Polar explorer.
"Sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits."
I've just added this picture of some 1950s Teds - the very sort which used to scare the daylights out of me as a child in Woking. There was one who was about 7 feet tall in his stockinged feet, but about 6 inches higher in his crepe soles with quiffed hair - no joke. If he caught your eye, he would scream, "WHO ARE YOU STARING AT???!!!"