Saturday + Sunday

Some weekends are for doing. Writing that essay, delivering that letter to the post office, running that incorrigible errand in the city. But then every once in a while, Saturday and Sunday conspire to slow you down – and there is a deep sigh of relief, a weekend spent travelling only by olive-green battered bicycle; a chocolate cake, a watermelon, a grandfather’s resilient smile, a sweet tonic of time to spend just as you please.

One wish: may there are always be evenings, always summers, always the long and lazy percolation of an ochre August dusk.