In Samoa they skipped Friday 30th December 2011. If I skipped Friday, I would miss the day I go to work on the bus. My husband has the car on Fridays. He meets his mates after work, they go bowling. He does the driving, he doesn’t drink these days.
Taking the bus means I am late and then my boss moans. Well, truth be told, my boss moans most mornings. And most afternoons.
I leave work early on Fridays and catch a different bus into town, there’s a little café at the end of the parade. In the winter they serve toasted tea cakes and hot chocolate. Couldn’t come if I had the car, nowhere to park. Max will be waiting for me, he comes every Friday. He walks to the café, he walks everywhere. We sit at the same table by the counter away from the door and window. Max tells me about his week, his job at Poundland. He’s lucky to have a job really given what he did. Max always brings me a packet of biscuits, rich tea, garibaldis, custard creams, and for my birthday chocolate digestives.
When the café closes I walk back along the parade to the bus stop calling in at the Tesco’s Express for the weekend shopping. My husband never notices the biscuits are from Poundland. He’s gluten intolerant.
I wouldn’t want to skip a Friday.