I love Fridays. I don't have a job, or rather I don't have an external go to work kind of job but I still love Fridays. They are the special day in our house; the day that the FB gets to eat his beloved chocolate, and have his specially planned evening.
Fridays have always been special. I grew up in the Middle East where the weekend is Thursday and Friday. Fridays were our chocolate day as children too. We would have a leisurely breakfast sometimes even having croissants which had been flown in from Paris the day before (so a very very expensive treat). And then in the evening my mother would cook something delicious for dinner. If we were very lucky we would have Roast Beef, and the best bit about that is of course the Yorkshire Pudding. Frankly if my mother had served up the Yorkshire Pudding and gravy, and missed out the beef I would not have been that fussed.
Now I live in the UK where the weekends are Saturday and Sunday, and we aren't woken at dawn by the call to prayer from the mosques, and still Fridays are special. And I know it is very vain but part of me hopes that the sight of a little boy running down the road, chocolate stains round his mouth, shouting "I had some chocolate mummy, I have lots of energy now. I can run!" makes a minute in someone else's life a little special too.