Perhaps I should begin with the candles. To light them, to pass my hands over them, and say a blessing. To cover my hair, and to declare ‘Shabbat Shalom’. Because I understand why Friday night is a thing of wonder, a night when rest begins, when time stretches into another day that also has its peace.
My Friday nights are not about dancing shoes, pubs, chill-inducing party clothes. They are about rest, stopping, anticipating a further rest the next day. They are about pulling back to the home, the warmth, the relief. I may not be cooking cholent, but Friday night meals are, at best, the ones that are short on effort and long on flavour.
In my teens, Friday nights were bath night – for me. (I did wash on other days of the week, I assure you.) But with time ahead, Friday night was the night to commandeer the bathroom, ideally for an hour, to read, to grow wrinkly and steam a little more and then top up the bath again.
On warmer nights, I’d prop open the window a little too, hearing the brass band practise in the little centre across the park from us. I’d make sure not to drop the book in the bath, though I’m sure the pages crinkled a little where I held onto them.
Later, in my half year of waitressing straight after leaving school, I would just about make it to the pub…with my parents. And our neighbours. They’d bring their dog. You could order a cup of tea. Not so rock and roll.
We could probably have just holed up in their kitchen, or ours, but it became a precursor to going home and watching Have I Got News For You. That need for comedy, release of tension, mocking the seriousness of our weeks – let alone those of the politicians.
In my days at the office full-time, I’d make my excuses when others were heading to the pub. Home, weary, looking for space without emails, maybe even the place to myself if I got home first. The night to kick back, eat whenever, linger at the table, watch some QI later, and laugh our way into the weekend.
Now, even though the rhythm of the days has changed, Friday nights are still anticipated. An early easy tea for one. A grownups meal later. There might be vegetables. There might be spices. There will hopefully be a cold beer too.
Friday night. It’s a small, perfectly formed box of delights all in itself. Let there be food. Let there be laughter too, where possible. And above all, let there be rest.