I love my Friday mornings. It’s the beginning of my weekend and I look forward to a morning of quiet productive writing.
It is almost 9 am. Mr R has just left for work. The linen is in the wash. I sit comfortably, my breakfast cereal cooling while I type. Except for the distant sound of the washing machine and the laptop keys clicking away, there is absolute silence. I can hear a bird in the trees nearby and the hum of the motorway is omnipresent but you can easily forget about it in the quietness of it all.
Come to think of it, if you really, really, really pay attention, there are so many sounds in and around a quiet house. The creaking of wood as it expands and contracts, the occasional hum of the fridge, cars whizzing by on the road below, an airplane overhead.
This is my kind of morning. One that I relish because I have it all to myself. I hug it to me greedily, savouring each moment. I am free to do what I want with my time – lounge in my pyjamas till noon, have my breakfast without rushing, spend the morning conjuring up words… I can relax and stretch my legs without worrying about missing the bus to work or thinking about Work. It’s a day of rest for me. Call it decadent, but for my sanity, I need mornings like this – away from people and noise. Just me, my thoughts and my words.
11 am : Talking about words, this one morning has been more productive than the last four weeks put together. In two hours, I’ve completed two articles and sent them off. Three thousand words down on paper (or screen, to be more accurate). I’m pleased with my morning’s work. Ideas are brimming in my head, but the solitude of the bedroom is shattered by a radio that’s on downstairs. The RJ’s voice floats up along with the sound of plastic bags being ripped as our Japanese neighbours set up a barbecue to enjoy the glorious sunshine outside.
I’m distracted already. It’s time to move on. Which means, I’ll just pick up the laptop and move to the living room. Ah, the joys of technology.
Or perhaps I can get on with my reading. There are books waiting to be read. Still half-read are books from the library : The Pleasure of Reading, an anthology, Voices of the Crossing, a collection of essays on the impact of Britain on writers from Asia, the Carribean and Africa, Big Mouth Strikes Again , a collection of articles by Tony Parsons, and Telling Tales, a collection of stories written by famous people for an AIDS charity. The writers include the likes of Kofi Annan, Nadine Gordimer , Woody Allen, Margaret Atwood, Hanif Kureshi and Salman Rushdie.
Or I could straighten out the house – vacuum, dust, do the laundry, get some order back into the wardrobes which seem to have a life of their own. Then there’s lunch to think of.
There’s much to be done and so little time. Wish I had longer weekends to cope with the demands on my time 🙂