Saturday morning, and the spirits have been set right by sobriety, sleep, exercise, sunshine and... slightly less predictably... entertaining ads for All Bran and Edf's Price Promise. Who isn't a sucker for talking animals and squishy orange characters dancing to the Hawaii 5-0 theme tune?
I think someone from the office of unnecessary research investigated the most feel good moments of the week for people. Supposedly the mass, British middle classes (I can't make assertions for anybody in say, India. Christ, I haven't even left the flat today) are at their happiness peak on a Saturday morning, when everything's looking rosy, everyone else is in a good mood because traditionally, they can eat what they want, watch what they want and might get laid tonight....
Well, possibly. In reality, who ACTUALLY experiences that sort of unbridled freedom, that's what holidays are for right? The average 9 to fiver these days seems to spend more and more time switched on to work, staying online, playing keepy-uppy with fellow weekend emailers, checking in with the boss or just reassuring themselves they staying one step ahead come Monday when all that aspiration crashes down and they're facing the grim prospect of a sleepless week juggling the everyday, putting their dreams on hold and just staying employed and housed in this jolly old recession.
I'm fascinated by the mind shifts a few hours makes, and our communal sense of time and occasion. I take utter triumph in confounding my own routines - taking a different route to work, eating curry for breakfast, or even just thinking about a shot of disaronno in that morning coffee (come on, it's so sweet, it can't do any harm, surely?)
But returning to Saturday morning, and putting to one side those self-destructive leanings towards the extreme, what REALLY feels good about today? It's just the promise, I think. That's all. The promise and freedom to pursue your ideals. Even if there's so much to do, you just get confused and eat some cake instead. It feels good doesn't it! And channel flicking is one of my favourite parts - mostly because I find watching adverts fascinating. I love that disconnect between what your life is and what you're told it can be, it feeds of something essentially very good in people. But it's not just the ads, it's the ridiculous kaleidoscope of shows on my Freesat box. This morning, from my cross-trainer (yes, I don't even have to leave the house for that any more, and yes it's cheaper than a gym membership) I've enjoyed cookery programmes, visited a market in Puglia, stared down into the vacuous, empty, champagne-bubbled souls of the Made in Chelsea caricatures (I got bored after 3 minutes - why do they move and speak so slooooooowwwwly?), hopped from their Yacht to the fictional peaks of Emmerdale, and wound up in god knows where with the original series of Star Trek.
Now where it seems rather old fashioned to celebrate the travelling power of TV, it just about fits my Saturday morning state of mind. Where shall I go today? What shall I do?
Are we just going to stand here?
Little else we can do, says Spock.
No Spock, it's Saturday morning for another 21 minutes, and I'm going to go through that door, laser set to stun. I'm going to make a plan. And I'm going to eat some cake.
And the funny thing is, if I didn't choose to live alone, I would already have done a lot more. But probably felt just as content. It's just another day, but it feels different.
Anyway, I'm going to sign up to donate to Save The Children each month. Just as long as they don't spend 60 seconds on an ad again. They had me in ten. It's Saturday morning for gods sake, of course you can have my money (by the way I'm not rich, it's just Saturday)
And then, maybe I should buy some car insurance through confused dot com. Then I'll get 1000 nectar points. Not that I have a car or anything. But it's Saturday morning. Why not?
Go forth and waste it, waste it and feel good!
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