Andy said to me this morning, 'Are we boring?' He seemed worried by this probability.
'How do you mean?' said I, not worried by this probability, because I have been doing Maths tutoring all week and I don't get probabilities (I mean, something is either probable or not, isn't it, so by my reckoning the probability of everything is half) so have decided not to worry about them.
'Well,' said Andy, 'boring in that we seem quite happy to do nothing at the weekend.'
Of course, I knew what he meant. He meant that we aren't the type of people who have their weekends mapped out and filled to the brim with fulfilling activities that mean every waking hour is crammed with meaningful and useful occupation, and we reach Sunday evening by flopping on the sofa and going, 'Well, that was 48 hours gainfully employed. We are now better people than we were on Friday night.'
And by that score, then yes, we are boring people.
The trouble is, is that we are both home bodies. And we both have hobbies that require indoorness, like reading, writing, drawing (did you see the new header picture? Springtime is a-coming!), knitting, sewing, cat-dancing (me), computer gaming (Andy), baking and cooking and listening to the radio.
We like walking in the park. But today it was too cold and windy. And we like gardening. But today it was too cold and windy (although I did nip out the front and prune the oregano plants, which are sprouting anew for 2013 - told you Springtime is a-coming.)
And sometimes we fantasise about being 'interesting people' who do 'spontaneous things', like leaping out of bed at 6 on Saturday morning and saying, 'Let's just get in the car and drive to Suffolk, book into a B&B, and then hike around the area for 5 hours before buying an impromptu antique at an auction, then travelling on to Norfolk and performing some random street theatre in the market square, then nipping back to the B&B for a quick bite to eat of something exotic we have never tried before, then nipping to the local pub to take it by storm with our Abba karaoke act, then on Sunday travel home in order to take part in a triathlon in the park in our shorts and T-shirts even though it is sleeting and the wind will give us both earache.'
No, I am afraid we are not that interesting. I don't even own a pair of shorts.
One day we might be. (Except for the shorts.)
But not today.
Today we are boring. And it has been jolly nice.