Sometimes, when you go to work on a Monday morning - some of us no doubt creeping like a snail unwillingly to school - a colleague will brightly and perkily enquire what you've done over the weekend. And much as you would like to say you've been to Barcelona for the weekend, or redecorated your house from top to bottom, the answer is sometimes, well, nothing.
So in the spirit of getting-aheadness, I am preparing my response now; this is what I have done over the weekend.
Friday evening: you may recall that Friday evening in Manchester was a night of frankly apocalyptic weather conditions; indeed, Noah and his ark were clearly seen floating down Market Street, closely followed by a small pig, wearing a knitted pink sweater, at the helm of a honey pot borrowed from an ursine friend. Not only that, but half of Manchester city centre had seemingly already been cordoned off in preparation for the Great Manchester Run, and it was under such conditions that I had booked to test drive the Nissan LEAF electric car on the Manchester leg of its current City Tour.
So, I did what any girl would do, and surrendered the wheel to the husband who was blatently champing at the bit to drive the car and be able to tell all his friends about it. The car is a marvel by the way - completely, unnervingly silent, and so smooth when pulling away from traffic lights that it felt a little like gliding on some kind of magic fairy carpet (although we must assume that it may have been a little less smooth had I been at the helm, perhaps.) If you get a chance to drive one, do; I'm pretty sold on the whole idea, particularly as my tiny Peugeot had cost £72 to fill up that very morning *glares at unfortunate vehicle*
Saturday day: or, in this household at least, football day. As I live in a house with a Man United fan, the early game was watched with much tense muttering, eventually giving way to whoops of delight; the second with much bitter cursing at the luck of the blues etc etc. I sat quietly and read a book on Victorian history.
Saturday night: Saturday evening brought an embarrassment of riches - dinner at a friend's, with Eurovision on in the background (although I did miss Jedward, thanks to the excellence of the smoked salmon and potato rosti starter that I was scrapping over at the time.) I did initially have some doubts about the whole thing after receiving a 3pm text from the chef, enquiring whether it was bad that she was already drinking the red wine she'd been forced to open for the plum sauce, but I needn't have worried - not only was the whole repast most excellent, but we were all back on the sofa in time to see the UK awarded a frankly unmerited douze points and briefly top the leader board.
Sunday morning - ie now: obviously after last night's greed a day of pure virtue is called for, and so I am working off the 18000 calories consumed by watching the Great Manchester Run on television and typing very quickly on my laptop. Even allowing for the inevitable rain, Manchester looks beautiful, and as I sit here watching people dressed as ducks and superheroes run past the Peveril of the Peak, it strikes me this is a fitting end to a very Mancunian weekend.
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