The Saturday Guardian has been one of the things I look forward to the most for the past five or so years. I bought the paper on Saturday and I’ve only just got round to reading it properly, but it stirred up some memories and I thought I’d share them.
Saturday morning memories on a Wednesday…
Waking up late on a Saturday morning after a Friday night of dancing the Bassment to Hospital Radio, early spring, weak sunshine pulling me out of bed and giving me a gentle shove downstairs, out into the chilly warmth of a Hyde Park morning. Down the road, accompanied by housemates, visitors and dancing partenrs from the night before (including fellow #oneaday folk: Ian, Kat, Millsy, Danph, Malk, Ste, Ash and more) to Slips Deli in Headingley. Ordering a Herb Melt – veggie sausage, mushrooms and cheese – then trekking back across the road to the co-op to buy The Paper. Heading home for copious amounts of tea and tropicana, dissecting my sandwich as I dissect The Paper, stretching it out over hours. The same order every week. The Guide, The Weekend, Travel, Work, Money, Review (I always give the sport to someone else or occasionally sneak a read of the back page column depending on who’s writing it). I can’t explain the strange sense of… something that I get from doing this, but it’s one of my favourite feelings. Kind of a mixture of comfort and relaxation. It’s brilliant.
Such a pleasure and a treat. So, if I think I’m going to have a particularly busy or mad week, I try to save The Paper for a few days. A little slice of the weekend in the middle of a busy week. Lush.