There’s a shop that we walk past quite often. It’s a sort of bookshop slash alehouse slash cafe, but in a very low key, arty way.
The window sign invites passers by to come in for a pint and a read. We were indeed passing by recently when my husband gazed wistfully into the middle distance and remarked, “do you remember when we had leisure time?”
Yes, yes I do. Of course, we still do leisurely things nowadays. I had my hair cut this weekend, which was nice, and we sat on our arses in front of the TV on Saturday evening. But it’s not the same. It’s pre-governed leisure, completely bereft of any spontaneity we might have once had. Everything is planned out, time-plotted, measured against the clock. Our weekends are always full to the brim of us launching from one hour to the next, never quite resting or relaxing.
The children, of course, think our weekends are great. They get to go places and have the odd treat and usually get bought some item of clothing. They bloody want for nothing. They have wall to wall attention from one or both of us from dawn to dusk. Us grown ups, on the other hand…how nice would it be to piss about one Saturday afternoon, unencumbered by smalls, and just decide to swoop into a bookshop for a drink? I bet we’d even hold hands on the way home.
Instead, I’m reigniting a slightly forgotten hobby that was a mainstay of my weekend pre-Moo and certainly pre-blog. Baking. This week, my little sous chef and I made cherry and coconut flapjacks with a (burnt) chocolate topping. She’s very, very good at tipping things in and knocking the mixing bowl off the scales, and sending sticky oats all over the worktop, only to be picked up and licked off of fingers when she thinks I can’t see.
She loves getting her pinny and her stool and asking lots of questions, throwing in occasional gems such as “who did you like when we went to the circus?” which is a reference to something we did at the start of MAY: her memory is insane.
Sloping off for an arty pint, sitting in a battered leather chair surrounded by books is quite close to my idea of heaven. But it’s not going anywhere, I guess. One day. In the meantime, I’ve got 27 minutes spare so I might whizz up some fairy cakes.