Saturday - the day of rest

Yesterday was busy; I had my boys for a couple of nights; I work 4 longer days (Monday to Thursday) in order that my family friendly employer will let me have Fridays off to look after my sons. It used to be a full on day with a 5 year old and a 1andahalf year old, but now the older son is at school on a Friday, I tend to get my time alone with the younger one (albeit usually in Asda - oh well...).

But I had them all day and I had also arranged for my brother who lives in Valencia to come over for dinner last night with his wife and my nieces. I fed the boys early and bathed them, ready for the arrival of the relatives, and we had an hour of super excited boys showing books and cars and bendy buses to bewildered Spaniards...
Dinner was a starter of roasted beetroot with mozzarella and a balsamic vinegar glaze, a main of pan fried chicken breast with a papaya / mango salsa, rice and pak choy. Dessert was chocolate and pear sponge with a butterscotch sauce.
Followed by coffee, a few drinks, a few more drinks.
Actually, it wasn't that late and I see my brother pretty much annually so it's good to see him and chat and hang out in a relaxed atmosphere.
Good too for them to see me at home with the guys, in my recently acquired flat, decorated, furnished, comfortable, cosy, stylish but also a family home for my sons. And a relaxed evening.
But on the back of that, I was washing dishes until midnight, and then at precisely 0603, Alex shuffled in to wake me off the sofa and into the day we go, a mere 4 and a half hours sleep not nearly sufficient to get me through today...!
We were up and out by 0815 to return the boys home, a five minute walk up 'the View' as they were off to visit their de facto aunt in Wishaw.
So by nine, I was back in bed, reading Stoner (loving the seemingly inconsequential events that are actually devastatingly simple and heartbreakingly common and the themes of emptiness and unhappiness striking a chord) until I fell asleep for an hour and a half before getting up and showering and tidying the house.
I had been expecting a visit at lunchtime from my lover, but she called off and I had the afternoon to myself. Beset by festive indifference, in spite of a list of things I need to paint or screw or fix or write or organise, I could not be bothered and eventually the easiest task was to take down the Christmas tree.
I knew if I took it out, the fresh air would catch me and I'd by irresistibly drawn out for a wander, and duly after dumping the tree at the nearest bin, I headed off to the breakwater as darkness was falling.
The tide was as high as I can remember - I have lived within a half mile radius for the last ten years in 3 homes now - and have walked the breakwater dozens of times. There were a few stray dog walkers and joggers and couple of Polish guys out at the angle, tucked in behind the old swimming club hut, chatting away, clad in gloves, woolly hats, thick jackets and sipping spirits from plastic cups. But mostly the rising darkness served to heighten the lights of the town rippling across the water.
In a day where I have done very little, it was so at odds with being inside, messing around, half starting my new scrap book, half painting a bit of wood I want to use as a notice board. But the instant I get outside, I walk, my head clicks into gear, I become a different person, lethargy gone, eyes looking for photo opportunities, ears zoned in on the glooping tide running in through the stones of the breakwater, scurrying rats, the splash of a seal (probably - I turned to see the ripples), the chandlery of the few yachts in the harbour clanking, the dull drone of traffic along the shore road.
Tomorrow will need to be more productive...!