Saturdays

I love Saturdays. They feel so brimful of possibilities. Today I'm going to sort out my office, finish the revision of my manuscript, bake a cake, clean and beautiful my house.

Yep, I know what you're thinking. For that, I'd need a month of Saturdays -- as opposed to time feeling long and drawn out in a month of Sundays. I can hear my late mom using that expression, and I suppose it came from my grandmother's Calvinistic upbringing when Sundays had to be kept as a day of church-going and rest.

Nevertheless, I'm going to do quite a lot on that list, even if I don't accomplish more than start tidying my study, and only get around to laundry and bathroom cleaning.

When I was a child I often used to spend weekends staying with a friend who lived in a mansion, with a garden to match. The lovely thing was, Saturday mornings were always devoted to baking and to picking and arranging flowers. That feeling is surely what still works in me today, all these many years later. Yes, childhood experiences can go very deep.