Every Friday I make plans for the weekend, which usually include watching a movie and doing something on Sunday, and every Sunday I do absolutely nothing. I wake up, sometimes at a silly hour like 06:30, and potter around, and at no time do I experience any desire to leave my front door. Not even to go to the local Cineworld.
I listen to CD's on my wonderful Marantz PM / CD 6003 set-up: today I went through a bunch of John Taverner CD's: The Protecting Veil, Song for Athene, and the Choral Works. I read, browse the web or work on some blog posts. I don't even do e-mails. I cook lunch, which I eat while watching an episode or two on my equally wonderful Sony Blu-Ray + Bravia TV set-up. Today it was four episodes of series two of Lie To Me, during which I did Windows updates on the netbook. This merges into afternoon tea, or in this case hot chocolate with toast and jam. I'm currently listening to a bunch of Wagner highlights on CD while ripping some CD's to go on the Nano I use at work.
It's been like this for quite a while. The grey skies do not make me want to leave the front door. Yesterday was a sunny-blue Saturday and I went for a walk in Virginia Water, some shopping, sat in the sun-trap reading Art and Text and saw The Lincoln Lawyer at the local Cineworld. Not today.
I used to do quite a bit more, but then I wasn't working in central London, so it was a treat to see and art show, watch a movie, browse round Foyles and have tea in Soho. Now that's where I work and what I do in the evening. Maybe I need the Day of Rest. And maybe what I need it from isn't so much central London as trains and crowds, and all those housework-y, life-managing things. Which would make sense. I do wake up on Monday feeling, let's say, more ready for the fight than I was Saturday evening.
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