When I was sixteen, if anyone suggested I get out of bed on a Saturday any time before midday, I would’ve caused a riot. And then sulked for the remainder of the day.
But now? I’ve noticed a new thing I really quite enjoy. I wake up on Saturday mornings almost as early as I do the rest of the week and then throughly enjoy pottering around for a couple of hours before the day properly starts.
It’s pretty much a set routine – something I find quite comforting – I get out of bed, head straight to the kitchen and start my Nespresso machine. I then grab a pint of sparkling water and take my vitamins. Once the coffee is ready, I head to the couch and appreciate the view of the London sky out of our living room window. Really, I love this view.
I then catch up on the news, wander through some social media streams, take in various favourite blogs, and perhaps write about something that’s on my mind. And I really, really relax.
At this time on a Saturday morning (between 7am and 8am), it’s still fairly quiet here in Canary Wharf. You can actually hear birdsong. There are no sirens, no construction work and nobody shouting on the street below. I love watching how the morning sun reflects off the various windows in buildings nearby and the lack of people moving around and making noise.
@TheFrankFlyer is at the gym at this time of day, so I have the apartment to myself. I might listen to a podcast or some music, but more often than not, I enjoy some silence. Which is a precious commodity when you live in London.
I revel in the long period of time between waking and having to get washed and dressed. At the weekend, getting showered and dressed signifies to me that stuff needs to get done and it’s time for me to get a move on. Errands. Social meetings. Meals to be organised.
Most weekday mornings, it’s more of a rush to get ready and dash out the door. But on Saturday mornings, I like to enjoy the time before that marker just as much as I can. Just me, a laptop and some coffee.
So like a naughty toddler, I refuse to put on any clothes on a Saturday morning, unless it’s absolutely necessary. (Hello, Mr. Groceries Delivery Man!)
At this time of day, the chance of neighbours seeing me through the window are minimal – we’re on the fifth floor, and it’s not like I’m pressing my naked form against the balcony windows! Think of the smudges I’d leave behind.
And if I am spotted, sitting here harmlessly tapping away at my keyboard, what’s the problem? I’ve lost count of the number of people who’ve seen me walking around in the birthday suit over the last five years, so I’m pretty immune to embarrassment or anxiety about it. You don’t ride the WNBR and till worry about if people catch sight of your naked buttocks as you make coffee in your own kitchen.
This ‘waking up time’ is exactly that. By the time I do in fact get moving for real, I’m 100% awake, full of delicious coffee and feeling a lot more positive about life. The violent jolt of weekday morning wake-ups is a distant memory and I can start the weekend with a smile.
Yes, I quite like my Saturday morning routine.
Do you have one?