So the aforementioned walk. It’s a gorgeous sunny Saturday. And one of the things that crosses my mind is that it feels like a Saturday and that I wished that I had got up earlier in the day. I wanted to do some tidying before going to do some writing. I wanted to do something. But what.
I begin to think back on my childhood. Saturdays to me was always a day that felt like it was made for adventure. Friday night I always seemed to stay at my Nan’s so Saturday morning I would be up. Watch cartoons and Going Live whilst eating an Animal bar and having a hot chocolate (I never drank Tea until much later in life) before going out to play with my friends. Later in life Saturday meant meeting up with my mate Nick and might involve a shopping trip to the city or washing his car. Even as an adult Saturdays were spent hanging out with friends, weather off doing something or just relaxing. Ut that’s my Saturday and more than once over the years I’ve wondered how others spend their Saturdays. I use to see strangers in their gardens or through the window into their houses and I’d get a brief flash of imagining what their life was like. Weather I was ever right I’d never know. I also remember a girl I worked with and thinking how does she and her husband spend their Saturday. What do they get up and do.
You see I have this notion in my head of what a Saturday should be like. I think it’s getting up and putting the TV on. Maybe the music channels to listen to whilst having a morning cuppa and maybe doing bits around the house. Perhaps it’s relaxing with a book on the sofa. Or just sat watching movies on TV and preparing lunch. What is this idyllic lifestyle I’m dreaming of? AS I walk I see people out cutting their grass. Ah now there’s a memory. A strong one, a favourite one from my childhood, my dad cutting the grass, the sound of the mower, over head the sound of a propeller plane or helicopter. The smell of the cut grass in the heat of summer. The smell of petrol. The feel of heat on my skin and the feeling of happiness and carefree. It is a moment I think of whenever I hear the sound of propellers faintly in the sky or the sound of a mower or the smell of cut grass.
Saturday to me is for relaxing after a week of work but also doing something. Work on the car or pottering in the garden. Going out shopping somewhere or maybe cutting the grass and having a BBQ. Maybe it’s out playing football. I just know that with so few Saturdays in our life they should be lived to the full and enjoyed.
But what about Sundays. Sundays are also part of the weekend but somehow they feel different. True all those things I’ve mentioned above could be done on a Sunday. Indeed I plan on cutting my grass tomorrow. But for me Sunday has always got Monday looming over it. It’s back to work the next day. No staying up late. Sunday is a day for relaxing. Not doing anything. Maybe a pint or two in the local. That’s what my childhood always thinks of. Going down he local football club on a Sunday morning. My Mum would be working behind the bar and my dad drinking on the other side. We would have a bottle of coke. Proper glass bottles and hopefully get on the pool table. In fact even when I and my brother stayed at my nans in the holidays this is what happened with my Gramp. Him drinking at the pub whilst we eat crisps and drink coke.
Then followed by a Sunday roast. Actually our Sunday roast was always on a Monday due to my mum working. But yeah for most people, even myself now it’s a roast for Sunday. When I live with one of my girlfriend years ago Sundays followed this pattern. She would cook a Sunday Roast then we would relax in front of the TV.
So that’s Sunday, relaxing ready for a week of work ahead and not really doing anything. It’s funny how to days, both on the weekend can feel different. To have some kind of idea in my head of what those days should be like.
It’s now half seven on a Saturday evening and I haven’t tidied nothing up as planned. But I’ve done some washing. I have washing up in the sink. I’ve done some work on my novel and written a few blog posts. I’ve been for a nice long walk and had a pint with friends. Maybe this Saturday hasn’t been too bad overall and there is always tomorrow morning before the Sunday roast.
Ok it’s been a little while since I’ve posted. Life has been a little busy recently. There is a couple of blogs I’m working on to do with music but it’s taking some time. I’ve also been busy with starting another novel. NaNoWrimo is running their April writing camp and I’ve set myself a goal of 20000 words for the month. (Currently on 10200)
It’s another great day. The sun is shining, the day is warm with the promise of a hot week to come. I’ve spent a couple of hours in the café writing and now I fancy a walk. I’m thinking maybe half an hour to an hour. It actually takes me about two hours but it’s good. I have my music playing, I’m exploring the countryside and I’m musing on things. I start with thinking about my novel. Ideas for scenes, where my main character is heading. In amongst this my mind starts wondering to other topics and it’s while I’m out walking that I realise something. At this moment I am happy. I feel content. Sure not everything in my life is perfect but things are ok at the moment. I still want out of the job I’m in but I’ve come to terms with the job and don’t get as stressed or depressed about it as I was a few months ago. My love life is also still up in the air but I’ll keep working on it and whichever eay things with this girl goes I know I can get on with my life.
As I’m taking in the sounds and the smell of the things around me and thinking where the hell am I and will I ever find my way back home I think of where I am. I can see for miles across the quarry I’m currently making myself around thinking on just how far I seemed to have walked and remembering previous times I’ve been out for walks. A lot of those walks have evolved soul searching and a lot of brooding. Many times I feel pangs of regrets that I’ve got older as I remember my past and think on regrets and how my situations have changed over the years from times when I was happy to now. About things that I’ve missed out on.
This doesn’t happen this time. I realise that I’ve had a good life. Not what some people might think is fantastic. I haven’t travelled far and wide. I haven’t been off on great adventures or spent time pursuing some extreme sport or activity. But I’ve been to uni. I’ve been a Ghost Hunter. I’ve had some good relationships with good friends over the years even if some of those friendship are now sadly gone or changed into something less than what they were.
You see I spend a lot of time reflecting on my past. Remembering times when I felt happy. With pain in my heart I also want to go back and have thing how they were before. But recently I read some words of Russel T Davis the man who brought Doctor Who back to our scenes thirteen years ago. About how he is often asked if he would go back to writing for Doctor Who and his answer is no. Not because he didn’t enjoy it but because he realises that he has moved forward and looks towards the future.
I’ve spent so long thinking how I loved it when I was hanging out with my best friend or how I wish I was still in uni that sometimes I make myself feel as if my life is over and the best years are behind me. And I’ve always been afraid of getting older. I want to be young again, fresh faced and full fringed. And these are the kind of thoughts has made me get stuck in a rut instead of thinking what’s next. And I have always worried about change. Ever since I was a teenager I realised that change always come. There is that saying where people talk of children wanting to grow up to fast. That never happened to be. I loved my childhood and I didn’t want it to end. I tried to cling on to it for dear life. I wasn’t worried about wanting to be old enough to drive or drink. Because it meant I also had to work. I had to grow up and be mature. I wanted to carry on playing in the woods, building camps and enjoying long sunny holidays with nothing much to do but hang out with my friends. I wanted to run forever and feel the wind beneath my feet.
I ended up working and I loved the job but it came to an end. I started another job, not great but I met a woman who would become one of my best friends and together we got into ghost hunting and I felt true happiness for the first time and the fear things would change and ultimately in a self-prophecy kind of way it did. But after a year I pulled myself together. Before we fell out my friend had suggested I go back to college at the time we fell out I was already looking at uni. And I loved uni. I enjoyed the lessons, I like writing and doing the research and even more I enjoyed hanging out with fellow students in the SU bar.
And this time I learnt to saviour every moment because I knew this time there was a time limit of this situation. Uni was for three years and nothing I could do could change that so instead of worrying about it I just took every moment for what it was worth.
Things change but if we concentrate on trying to make your life better then things will come along. I’ve forgotten to think about my future. I’ve forgotten to live in the present. This moment right here and right now where I feel content and happy isn’t the time to mope about the lost past. I have to start trying to find and enjoy the good times again. No they won’t be the same as before. It might involve different people, different lifestyle but it could be fun. It could be good. I still have plenty of life left and its there for enjoying. I have ideas buzzing around in my head and I want to get back home to get writing. Instead nearing the end of my walk and on the last stretch home I get picked up in a car by two men and taken for a drink (its ok I know them, a lucky coincidence being there at that moment. It leads to an invitation to a party later in the month. Things are hopefully coming to me again. If anything my past has taught me that these things usually come around.