Saturday

So, what do you want to do?

I don’t know. Not really fussy. Up to you.
How about a trip to ‘spoons?
Nah. Was only last week we were down the toon.

Right, what do you suggest?

Maybe a trip to the pictures instead?
That could work, be a nice change.
Wait, what’s on - ah, a load of rubbish again.

Well there goes that idea.

Tell you what, when did we last eat out?
Hmm, a while ago. 

That could be a shout!

How skint are we though?

Oh aye, forgot we went to that show.
It’s still quite a while ’til payday.
Great, another suggestion right oot the windae.

________________________________________________

Once again we were moaning about there being nothing to do.
If only we knew….
That in a few weeks time we’d be in separate houses.
Only able to see each other via clicks of laptop mouses.

Queuing for an hour to get in to Asda.
Too many dinners comprised of panic-bought pasta.
In our offices, putting up 2m distancing signs.

As we go about our now un-“usual” daily grind.

Tuning in to Nicola and Boris, waiting with bated breath.
Hoping today will be the day that finally brings news of less deaths.
Folk furloughed, made redundant, ill with the virus and dying.
Dark days, little contact, always on the verge of crying.

Drinking, smoking, baking - anything to pass to time.
Even writing out sentences which accidentally rhyme.
I swear down, I will never complain about being bored again. 

At least not until we have another Saturday together, my friend.