one hundred and thirty one

I am grateful for friday nights.  A glass of red on a cool late autumn evening is even better on a friday. In fact everything tastes and seems better on a friday. I think its because friday nights are magical, they are never the same. Sometimes they are gentle and quiet and sometimes they are hectic and best forgotten and often they are not as expected. And sometimes, especially with B away, they are too quiet. But tonight as I enjoyed my red, my quiet evening was turned on its head with the unexpected arrival of a couple of boisterous teenage boys. So tonight, I am grateful for a friday night filled with unexpected fun and much hilarity. The quietness was getting to me.