The Long Weekend.

The weekend in my world has and always will begin on a Friday morning and end on a Monday night. So forgive me as I listen to the 'Today' programme as I write, I'm still very much in weekend 'mode'. 

 "But why does a retired goof like me need to recognise a weekend situation?" Can I not just throw away the calendar and treat every day as a Saturday or Sunday?. Absolutely not.

Routine is not for everybody, I know many young people who have no connection to any kind of structure and good for them. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea how my time panned out when I was a young man, I just can't remember. But my 'condition', more or less demands some kind of daily timetable, but as I was saying, the weekend has been extended to include two more days, and here I get stuck into my writing, reading, shooting images, while Tuesday to Thursday is for more domestic purposes, one of which is looking after our granddaughter. 

This weekend of course was torn apart by further madness on London Bridge and Borough Market, where evil was unleashed, claiming many lives in the process. I was filled with sorrow and disgust in equal measures, and struggled like most sane human beings to search for an answer.  

The last night like many I was touched deeply by the genuine outpouring of love and defiance in Manchester. I didn't become depressed, just angry, just a little, but not enough to to fall into a gutter of despair.  

It's now 9am, and I'd better show and pull some clothes on, scan the weekend papers and make a decision about the coming election. Not much of a choice.