As an exercise in keeping ones brain active enough not to fall asleep either before the end of the working day or while driving through the Friday rush hour, writing a random blog post about nothing much at all doesn't really cut it. But the filter machine downstairs has been turned off for the weekend so there's no coffee left, the office is hot enough to cook pizza from the built-up white heat of technology and opening the window only brings the buzzing sound of an elusive two-stroke motor. So there's not much else I can do right now.
Just what are they doing that requires a small two-stroke on a wet Friday anyway? No need for leaf blowing, it's March. Similarly they won't be grass cutting yet. Sounds far too constant for a chainsaw. Generator? Surely not one of those nasty little Chinese portable jobs with the chocolate bearings and the pre-glazed bore!
My weekend will be spent variously spaced out on Zopiclone, racking last year's cider and fettling various rusty bits of farm machinery. Wet and rusty bits of farm machinery, that is. The BBC tells me we're due some light rain which is to say anything from a soft spring shower to a miserable drizzle. We Brits have many different words for our precipitation. Still, with luck I'll taste a little of last autumn's golden halo in the rough proto-cider I draw off the lees. If you're not a cider-phile then I can only describe the flavour I'm looking for as intensely pippy, as in apple pips.
Whatever your weekend brings you, I hope you sleep well.