Since both my children started full time school, I work on weekdays rather than Saturdays. I much prefer it this way – don’t get me wrong, the people I worked with were great, but the job sucked. Badly. And there was always a sense while I was working on Saturdays that I should really be at home, spending time with my kids. So, my boss agreed to change my shifts, and everything’s better now.
There’s only one thing I miss about my Saturday job, and that is the travelling through Cardiff while most other people are asleep. I’m not generally a morning person, but these mornings were nice. In the summer it was lovely because the sun is already up and you feel like you have the world almost to yourself (I’d leave for work at about 6.30am, at which time very few people are around at the weekend). In the middle of winter, on dry days, it was equally pleasant as you’d be out in the almost-dark, looking up at the stars slowly fading as the sun rose to a crisp, clear day.
Once you hit town, you start to see more people out and about. The fruit and veg man loading up his stall, ready for the busy Saturday trading. The window cleaners attacking the shop frontages, getting the finger marks off the glass from the previous day. The council lorry, watering the many hanging baskets and planters which are scattered around the city centre and of course the revellers, for whom this is a late night rather than an early morning.
Maybe, before the summer is out, I should make it my mission to try to capture a couple of very early mornings again. There is such a sense of peace and of promise when you are out in the very early morning, as if anything is possible. Or maybe it’s just that I miss out on the solitude of early mornings, given that my day is usually started by two exuberant and very loving boys leaping on my bed to wish me good morning!