So I went off to London last Thursday afternoon, as tired as I've been in a long time. I landed at Good Friend's house at around 5.30 and had a cup of tea with her before she had to go to a meeting. GF's Teenage Daughter was back from school, so I made some food while TD revised for her A levels, then we ate and gossiped together until GF came home.
On Friday GF had a couple of meetings during the day so I met another old friend for a gorgeous south Indian lunch and more gossiping. Then in the evening, to recover from the elections and their aftermath, GF, TD and I indulged ourselves in pizza and profiteroles. (TD made us laugh by warming her profiteroles in the microwave. They go soggy and sad. Not recommended.) GF and I made copious plans for Saturday, involving Oyster cards, art galleries and cafes, and went to bed feeling all anticipatory.
Only on Saturday we both overslept, and it was cold and rainy, and we went through the motions of getting up and dressed and breakfasted, and then we looked at each other and admitted we didn't really want to go out or, indeed, do anything. So GF popped to the shop for a newspaper, then came back and lit her fire, and we declared it an honorary Sunday - complete with afternoon naps and long-drawn-out roast dinner. It was very restful and just what I needed.
On Sunday morning I began writing this fortnight's short story, and I finished it on the train home in the afternoon. I haven't done any work on my WIP over the weekend, but you know what? I don't care, because I was so very tired that I needed to rest more than I needed to write.
Next week, however, will be a different story.