Now that they are the only time when I have, quite frankly, time to relax, I love weekends. Nothing quite beats waking up at half past nine on a Saturday morning, awaken by a stream of golden sunshine, which is reminiscent of the summer that I yearn to re-experience. Of course, I cannot entirely drag myself out of the previous day's events - I won't even bother giving you two guesses as to where I was - but the sleepiness clouds my brain, including the thoughts that were among homework a mere 24 hours before.
Like many people will agree, there is a lot to like about weekends, apart from having a two day break from the suffocating environment that is school. The relaxedness. No raised eyebrows at tucking into your breakfast at 10am when, had it been any other weekday, I would have otherwise been getting into a pickle over equations in class. Trawling around shops which, as the only time to visit them is mainly limited to Saturday afternoons, are as enticing as walking into a dreamlike sweet shop. And, depending on your tastes, you might fancy going for a stroll - as I did with my friend earlier this afternoon - or simply catching up with the programmes that you record on Sky, but constantly forget to watch!
The opportunities are endless once the weekend strolls around, but the problems appear once it escapes your grip come Monday morning...
Although plenty of Sundays have passed in recent months, you can bet your money on a sense of dread starting in the pit of my stomach the evening before the new week commences. After enjoying such a pleasant weekend, the thought of leaving it behind for another week pains me like a needle being inserted in my arm; I truly, truly hate it.
Two days since I waltzed through the door on Friday afternoon, I still feel somewhat exhausted and in need of getting some rest - hardly the image of enthusiasm you would expect the day before school! The oh-so-extremely-long lie-ins might have eased my headaches that throb like a constantly played One Direction anthem, yet there is still a way to go until I regain my classic spark and wouldn't stir at the prospect of dedicating seven hours of my day to schoolwork. If only I'd remembered how difficult the first week back at school is, because only this on-going experience has taught me this tough, yet frightfully honest lesson!
At least I'm not the only one who is suffering from post-summertime sadness (which, despite my unsaid allegiance with her, this is in no way associated with Lana Del Rey) because, if honesty was the only exception when producing an answer, fellow pupils' reluctance to settle down into a routine couldn't be more obvious. Sure, it saddens me to think my summer of fun won't resume until next year, but it won't motivate me to the extent that I'll become disruptive and cause trouble because of it. As much as it hurts us to do so, some things - including a routine as restrictive and boring as going to school - must be accepted. If we achieve thanks to the efforts that we make, these sacrifices will only do us the world of good. Even if it prevents us from appreciating the glorious sunsets and bright afternoons that are unlimited to us during summer.
Despite yearning to spend another day at home, it pleases me to walk into school tomorrow, holding tightly onto the thought that my weekend was as pleasurable as I could have hoped. For example, I
- Saw my four week old kitten Teddie, who is striving and developing a feisty nature which might even be in a league with mine! There is a strong possibility that we could bring her home a week earlier than originally planned, so I only have to wait less than three weeks until a new kitty is on the block.
- Met up with my friend from school in the village, then went for a walk (with her gorgeous labrador) around a field, taking in wonderful sights of the countryside. Yes, a self-confessed living-in-the-city-wannabe actually likes Sunday walks, trodding along on grass and taking pictures of faraway fields.
- Might have discovered another handbag to add to my ever-expanding collection!
In some peoples' eyes, my weekend might hover towards the more basic side, but it provided the perfect escape from the drama that unfolded earlier this week. More often than not, simplicity works wonders when you're seeking a dose of happiness. Even if I go on a drive around the local villages, I'm happy. Though nearly six months have passed since I moved here, taking in new sights never bores me.
Oh well, here comes the inevitable which, if needs must, only the hardest of all wintery illnesses could get me out of tomorrow. I've had my fun, so I guess that working hard will re-compensate for my natural ability to have a very good time. Still, who really knows what is lurking around the corner? A snowstorm in September would be a miracle...
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