The Saturday Song

Today has been, in my opinion, everything Saturday should be. When I was a Brownie we used to sing the Saturday Song, which I sadly cannot remember all of the words to, but began with “Strolling along the road, speeding on your bike, having a lovely time, doing what you like”. And doing what I like is exactly how I have spent this Saturday.
After the good old Skype call to home first thing this morning (not too early – a lie-in is an important part of Saturday), I set off on my bike into Richland. As usual, it was a beautiful sunny morning, blue skies a-plenty, and for the first empty mile of my ride along the river, I let loose and unleashed some of Rogers and Hammerstein’s best into the open air. But as I have mentioned previously, moths have a terrible tendency to gather in huge hordes just around mouth height, so I had to eventually resort to humming instead.
I had booked an appointment to get my hair cut this morning, which is always something I look forward to, and today I was not disappointed. In fact, there was only myself and my hairdresser in a small salon and he was so lovely and friendly that I was soon chatting away (read “rambling on”) whilst he cheerily pretended to listen (whilst, incidentally, doing a stellar job at interpreting what I wanted him to do with my hair). I cannot help but mention with a bit of a giggle that about halfway through my haircut, his being friendly turned to asking me what kind of man I thought I would marry and telling me several times that I have a “beautiful smile”, which I was not sure how to take until all was finished and he asked for my number! Though I’m sure given his manner and the emptiness of his salon that I am neither the first nor the last of his clients to have been asked this, it certainly gave me something to smile about as I headed back towards the boys’ apartment!
Since the day was so hot, we decided to put off our planned walk along the river until early evening, and instead spent the afternoon messing around in the pool again. I love how it seems almost a given that apartments will be provided with a pool here – it’s the perfect way to fill a few hours without having to do much!
Incidentally, in America it is not normal to call a swimsuit a swimming costume. To Americans, costume is a word apparently reserved only for fancy dress, which has caused some amount of mirth in the last couple of weeks. Also, stag and hen dos are quite unknown here, replaced by bachelor and bachelorette parties.
This evening I experienced my first brewpub, which is not a pub at all but in fact just a fairly informal restaurant, but which brews its own beer. I read in the Washington guide book that this state is particularly good for brewpubs and my pint of “Atomic Amber” (references to atoms and radiation here are rife – see also “Manhattan project pizza” and “Radcabs”, the main taxi service) was tasty enough, accompanied by a delicious “Nuclear Fettucine”!
It was a long walk back from the brewpub, but in good company and the cool evening air it went quickly enough, just leaving me time to inspect my newly-acquired tan-lines (once I stop being bright pink, I will surely become tanned?!) before a welcome early night


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