After Confession this morning, I said my allotted penance (a very fitting Memorare for Our Lady's aid in the spiritual combat, and three Gloria Patri's in thanksgiving to the Trinity), lit some candles, and read Matins, Lauds and Prime of the Blessed Virgin. It was good to have the chance to do so kneeling by the sacred images, near the High Altar where the Blessed Sacrament is reserved... on my way from the confessional to the candlerack, I passed the large Crucifix, and am not ashamed to say I kissed the Feet it portrays as nailed there - for only thereby am I saved.
My Saturday morning routine consists of having a sleep-in past my usual workday waking hour, then going to confession at Church of Apostles; after that, I make my way into town, look about, and read The Australian over coffee and brunch. To-day, I was pleased to find that the café serves not only croque-monsieur ("Mister Crunch"), a French riff on a toasted ham and cheese sandwich (made with gruyere cheese and quality ham with a scattering of gherkin, between baguette slices panfried in butter, not toasted), but his partner, croque-madame ("Mrs Crunch"), which contains a fried egg as well. Very nice, especially on a cool, rainy day (the very wet weather is still continuing, after a bizarrely fine day yesterday; the Gorge remains in flood).
Making my way back to the car, on a sudden inspiration I made a return visit to church and read Terce and Sext, plus the texts of Our Lady's Mass as meditation.
(By the way, a pious custom I picked up from my former parish priest, Bp Jarrett, is to say three Glory be's after the Angelus on Saturdays, in thanksgiving to the Trinity for Our Lady's glorious privileges: I think this is a decent practice.)