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thefridayfive 1. What do you like most: Fridays, Saturdays, or Sundays (and why)?
Fridays win, hands down. There’s just something magical about the anticipation of the weekend ahead - like anything’s possible. You can stay up late guilt-free, and even if you don’t have big plans, it feels like you might. Saturdays are lovely too, but they come with a bit more responsibility (errands, chores, all that). Sundays... well, Sundays carry that creeping “Monday’s coming” energy. You know the one.
2. What was the best weekend of your life?
Hmm… probably one that involved tennis, sunshine, and something unexpected. Like stumbling into a tournament while traveling in Europe - maybe Rome, or Barcelona - clay dust in the air, a front-row seat to someone’s breakout moment, and that warm, giddy feeling of this is exactly where I’m meant to be. Or maybe it was the first time you saw a player you’ve followed forever absolutely dominate in person. Heart full, feet sore, and totally smitten.
3. What weekend of the year is your favourite?
Wimbledon finals weekend, no contest - and I’m usually there for it. There’s nothing like the buzz of the grounds, the hush before a serve, or the eruption when someone hits a ridiculous winner. You can feel the history in the air, especially on Centre Court. It’s not just about who wins; it’s about witnessing those moments that’ll live on forever. And somehow, every year, it still feels fresh. Electric. Sacred.
4. Do you have any weekend routines?
There’s a rhythm to it, for sure. Saturday mornings are made for a slow start - coffee in a favorite mug, maybe scrolling through tennis scores or tweaking a scene in a fic. If it’s a good day, I'll get out for a walk or a gentle hit on court. Sundays are a bit more introspective - more reading, maybe a bit of journaling, definitely some plotting (both writing-wise and emotionally). And if it’s a tournament weekend? The whole schedule revolves around the match times, no question.
Fridays win, hands down. There’s just something magical about the anticipation of the weekend ahead - like anything’s possible. You can stay up late guilt-free, and even if you don’t have big plans, it feels like you might. Saturdays are lovely too, but they come with a bit more responsibility (errands, chores, all that). Sundays... well, Sundays carry that creeping “Monday’s coming” energy. You know the one.
2. What was the best weekend of your life?
Hmm… probably one that involved tennis, sunshine, and something unexpected. Like stumbling into a tournament while traveling in Europe - maybe Rome, or Barcelona - clay dust in the air, a front-row seat to someone’s breakout moment, and that warm, giddy feeling of this is exactly where I’m meant to be. Or maybe it was the first time you saw a player you’ve followed forever absolutely dominate in person. Heart full, feet sore, and totally smitten.
3. What weekend of the year is your favourite?
Wimbledon finals weekend, no contest - and I’m usually there for it. There’s nothing like the buzz of the grounds, the hush before a serve, or the eruption when someone hits a ridiculous winner. You can feel the history in the air, especially on Centre Court. It’s not just about who wins; it’s about witnessing those moments that’ll live on forever. And somehow, every year, it still feels fresh. Electric. Sacred.
4. Do you have any weekend routines?
There’s a rhythm to it, for sure. Saturday mornings are made for a slow start - coffee in a favorite mug, maybe scrolling through tennis scores or tweaking a scene in a fic. If it’s a good day, I'll get out for a walk or a gentle hit on court. Sundays are a bit more introspective - more reading, maybe a bit of journaling, definitely some plotting (both writing-wise and emotionally). And if it’s a tournament weekend? The whole schedule revolves around the match times, no question.
5. Describe your ideal Saturday night.
Something that feels rich and slow. Maybe I'm curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book that makes you swoon or smirk. Maybe you’re writing, really in the zone, letting something dark and delicious unfold between the lines. Or maybe you're watching a replay of a classic match - one of those five-set, back-from-the-brink epics that still gives you goosebumps. A little wine, maybe a scented candle, and absolutely no hard pants.
