Today was my Friday off and, true to form, I spent a large part of the day thinking about what I could be doing and continually regretting my choices (mostly playing FIFA 18). But not as much as I might normally – I had a general air of acceptance about this day being for leisure, and while some disappointment did descend at around 4pm when I realised that my alone time was coming to a close, I was generally at ease with how I’d used my day. In order to take some of the guilt of doing nothing away (and to procrastinate from more creative pursuits) I did quite a thorough tidy and clean of the flat. Undoubtedly within a day I’ll feel like Sisyphus and have to do the same chores all over again – how this flat gets so messy so quickly is beyond me. How on earth we’ll ever cope with children is even further beyond.

The weather is neither here nor there at the moment, so I didn’t feel any guilt at spending more or less the whole day indoors; I ventured downstairs to check the post room a few times, and popped to the shop for some air, but other than that I stayed in the lounge. I anticipated that when wifey returned she’d want to go to the gym but thankfully she returned home absolutely shattered and utterly unable to engage with the external world – result!

I treasure these days off to myself, and I think I always place so much emphasis on making the most of them that they ultimately fall short. It makes me think I need to plot out my free time more, and have some sort of schedule that I have to stick to. Admittedly that doesn’t sound all that fun, or much of a day off, but more and more I suspect that I need structure and some sort of discipline to live and enjoy my life to the fullest – something that the rebellious, angry 20-something me would’ve balked at out of some mixed set of principles. Routine was the habitat of boring maturity and adulthood, and I wanted no part of that. That way lay mortgages and pension plans. Yuck.

As much as I love time with my wife, the time I get alone is in short supply, and I only have another 16 of these Fridays this year (yikes) so if I want to finish a script or pen that novel I arrogantly think I’m capable of, I should probably start thinking of bigger things than making Northampton Town the most dominant force in European football by 2021 and getting Canada to the 2022 World Cup. But both of those things are obviously very important too.

Soon it will be the summer holidays, and I will have hectic work days with enthusiastic children doing the reading challenge and a bored and restless teacher wife to entertain, so my only solitude will be up to and past midnight on the weekends. In a sense, I think this summer will fly by and as much as I adore it, autumn might arrive all too soon before I’ve even had time to hate the constant warmth and humidity. In another sense, come the end of July my cherished Friday day offs alone might seem a lifetime away. Still, it’ll give me time to start typing up some sort of schedule.