Weekends…the edit

What are weekends? What are they for? Breaks from the working week? From busy lives?

To me, of late, they are everything. Be they spent busily rushing around or doing next to nothing it doesn’t matter to me. With a million people rushing by in a frenzied whirl or alone it doesn’t matter to me. Seeing friends and socialising or sleeping until noon it doesn’t matter to me.

It doesn’t matter to me so long as I am with you. Equally happy whispering daft song lyrics to you while you sing beautifully and with gusto, or rushing to the shops to not buy the things that we want, or cooking you dinner while you enjoy your post massage snuggle, or (edited for common decency! lol), or playing pool and chatting up random old men. It doesn’t matter to me. Be I in this country or be I in yours, it doesn’t matter to me. Whether I am travelling across country or awaiting by the fire for your arrival, it doesn’t matter to me.

All that matters to me about them now, and every other day, is that I get to spend them with you. My life has changed in so many ways but none that are probably perceptible to anyone else but me. I no longer wish for how I used to spend them before.

But then the weekend…ends. I look around and see the state of the kitchen and it’s washing up yet to be done piled up high. The clothes on the sofa and the **** in the lounge. The duvet a tumble of **** and ****, the tossed aside ****. I see myself in the mirror with unwashed hair and looking a state and……..I…….smile. I smile because I spent the weekend with you doing whatever we wanted to. I smile because I think back to everything we shared and how you smiled and laughed and teased and joked and looked so very happy.

Weekends are for love. Weekends are for you. But now I have to work out how to make the weekends become days of the week too.

Scum

Fucking lowlife fucking scum who steal from my girlfriend’s car. That’s all they are…scum.

I wanted to give her a lovely weekend break away from her busy work and home life and some one, or bodies, decide to literally prise open her car and steal her bag from within containing things of value, things of no value but to her heart (which surely must have broken a little at least) and things that are just a pain to get stopped, or anew or replaced.To them it was just a “nothing” crime…a means to an end but for her it was so much more.

Guilt is what I feel most of all. Guilt for it happening while she was down here to see me. Guilt for living in what is a nice quiet place mostly but seems to be getting ever more surrounded by the scum of the earth. The drug dealing, jobless, chav, fucking scum. It’s not often I get angry these days but I am about this and what’s worse still is that there is nothing I can do about it.

Hope you are feeling all right about it tonight darling. Wish you didn’t have to leave, so I could keep you wrapped safely in my arms for evermore. It wont happen again.