A Good Night In

There was a time in my life, many years ago now, when I would have regarded a Friday night in as tantamount to an unmitigated disaster. In fact, for a period that would have been the case for any night of any week. Now the prospect of relaxing with an Elmore Leonard, listening to a bit of Bruckner (I've got the slow movement of the 8th in mind), and, finally, settling to a good murder (of the Midsomer variety) sends distinctly delicious shivers down the old spine.

According to something said at flag-raising this morning, if we regard our lives as spanning a week beginning on a Monday it seems I've arrived at approaching noon on a Saturday. It's nice to think that's always been my favourite day of the week.