Grass Matinee

Latin sleeper.

It is a hobby, a lifestyle, a hope, a vague souvenir, an achievement... "la Grasse Matinée". For once, this post initiates with a French expression. Literally this translates into "fat morning", and depicts the situation when you stay in bed, most likely on Sundays, for lengthy hours, with ceiling-staring for only occupation.

Waste of time? Life indulging? It is a matter of perspective. It is also a cultural difference. Latin people tend to appreciate those periods of inactivity more than others. Farniente, repos, siesta, grasse matinée, somme... These too many idioms for a simple nap testify.

British gardener.

Since I moved to London, I must confess I have left behind some of my French habits. For instance I sleep less. But I have started enjoying different pleasures. Like my daily walk through the leafy park around the corner, on my way to work. I am indeed lucky enough to walk to my office, and to avoid commuting in the lovely, packed public transportations.

As a matter of fact I do appreciate strolling across this nicely cut grass. Still wet from the night drizzle. Without a single flower to disrupt the perfection of the lawn. Just a pure, green surface. A natural pool table on which I roll from one gate to the other. This is my parenthesis between the hectic high times of my professional life. My pleasure of the day.

It is amazingly perfect. And so British too.

Instead of wasting their time under blankets on Sundays, the locals prefer to enjoy themselves in their gardens, refining the cut of their edge, the alignment of their rose trees, and the height of their grass. More than a hobby, it is a philosophy and even a national sport.

Talking about philosophy, Voltaire finishes "Candide" by an image: cultivate your own garden to find the route to happiness. Will do, just after my 2 o'clock nap.