Fridays used to mean a big night out. Drinks in the city. Catching up with friends. Dancing, laughing, flirting. The end of the week. Time to take a deep breath – and let it all hang out.
Then I had children, and Friday blended into Thursday blended into Monday. In fact, every day was a Tuesday, as The Builder is fond of saying. Particularly as I was working from home, wedging it into whatever hours it would fit, be it Friday, Sunday or sometime in the Never Never.
With Mr6 at school, however, Fridays have reassumed their mantel of importance. No after school activities on Friday. No reading. No guitar practice (actually, not a lot of that at any time, but I’m dealing with that). We walk to town, all of us, and have a milkshake. We come home. We eat leftovers or takeaway or, maybe, even, go out for Chinese. The Builder and I are on the sofa with a glass of wine by 8pm at the latest, in time for a raft of lifestyle programs with which to while away the evening. It’s our one total veg night of the week. Veggier, even, than Saturday.
I love Friday nights. There are no interviews to organise, no stories to write. That all waits til Sunday night (I’m a last-minute kind of girl).
This Friday, I’ll be reliving my (relative) youth, heading to the Big Smoke to catch up with friends. It will be great fun. But part of me will miss the sofa. The ritual of winding down.
How do you spend your Friday nights?