And Sunday rolls around again. We slept in, of course, + as it was so late by the time we’d had breakfast, Val was good enough to let me rush off to watch the football, while she cleared up. I made it with 20 secs to spare, but the games weren’t anything much, + in any case it seems as tho’ Liverpool have romped away with the title once again. Val turned up after a short while, + then we turned into real slugs for the rest of the afternoon, just slumped in front of the dread machine. And it wasn’t as tho’ there was a single decent programme. Admittedly, we weren’t totally inactive – Val sewed + I wrote letters, but it’s still not a very constructive way to spend one’s day off. Not that it was the complete day, of course, since, as usual, there was work in the evening. A quiet evening, as it turned out, + very boring. But Julia cooked me a huge meal, so that compensated things a little.
A dull Sunday. When we are on the move, days of the week don’t cont for much (except when suddenly the shops are all shut), but now that we are in a quasi-working situation, then weekends bring with them the familiar lassitude. Not that I am entirely tied to Mon- Fri, of course, as I pretty much work every day at the Cascade. Where such treats as a full meal achieve an importance beyond their status.