Saturday September 24th, 2016

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the weekend.

Busier day today, as I expected Saturday to be. Ended up with only four loaves of bread, a couple epis, and five ciabatta buns. The shop closed at 3 (instead of 4 like the last three days) and I managed to get out of there by 3:40 without having to rush too much.

Very much looking forward to having the next two days off, to spend time with my family and to maybe hopefully possibly rest.


It comes with promises
Of rest, of freedom, of fun;
Quickly, let's do it all
Before the weekend's done...


Greg said...

What does happen to the things left over at the end of the day? I could see the loaves being turned into toast (if you served it in the shop) or bread-and-butter pudding to sell, but I'm not sure what you could do with the cinnamon buns you've mentioned before.
Does catching up on comments count as rest :-P I hope you have a good couple of days off!
Haha, I think your poem catches the feel of many weekends perfectly! So busy, all the time, that even time off gets regulated and "done".

The weekend
The children are with their grandparents for the weekend.
It's a shame they're dead, but the graveyard is peaceful
And it's a wonderful place for them to seek friends,
And we're relaxed, well fed and this duvet is heatful.

Marc said...

Greg - loaves go in the freezer, either to be sold after we sell out in the coming days or to go to one of the local restaurants as part of their order.

The cinnamon buns get chopped up and put into a coffee cake/bread pudding thing that is quite delicious.

Hah, that second line caught me completely off guard. I do quite like the image of the third line, as it makes a great companion for its predecessor.

Also: I can completely understand that feeling in the final line, and why, as a parent, sending the kids to hang out in the graveyard is absolutely the right thing to do on some days.