Karen

Quelday

My favourite day of the week is Quelday. It’s the eighth day of the week and it’s all mine. Well isn’t it ok to have a day that’s just for you?

On a Quelday it would always be warm. Not that awful baking heat but the comfortable warmth where you can sit in the sun with a gin and tonic, feeling the warmth in your soul. The birds would sing their harmonies in the lush green trees and a slight breeze would wisp around my toes.

A book would be resting in my hands. A good read. One where it would be effortless to turn the pages, that would draw me in, absorb me in its world.

The clouds in the sky would be fluffy and white and vapour trails would decorate the beautiful, vast, powder blue sky.

Happy laughter would spring from the house as the children played nicely, occasionally showing me a picture they had drawn or telling me of the kindness they had shown to one another.

A rockpool with a small streaming waterfall would feature in the centre of the garden on Quelday. The constant, rhythmic, gentle sound of the cascading water would calm my senses, drawing me almost into a meditative state of mind.

On a Quelday, there would be no clubs, no arguing, no school and no work. Quelday would be the day to clear my mind, to take a moment, to breathe. The day to make space for new plans, new ideas, new stories.

A plate of appetising exotic fruits would lay on a china plate upon a small round table a mere arms reach from me. I would sink my teeth into the ripe juices and taste the mouth-watering goodness, feeling it flow round my body, healing every particle within me.

Tea, scones and pancakes would appear later.

Why shouldn’t everyone have a Quelday?