I never appreciated Sundays until I left school. When I was younger, Sunday seemed like a complete write-off with an inevitable countdown to a gloomy Monday morning.
If I’m not working, Sunday has become the ultimate day of relaxation and I can never understand why people complain that it’s the most boring day of the week. If you work 9-5 Monday-Friday, you usually end up out on the town on Friday and sometimes inevitably Saturday as well, which is why there is nothing better than having a lay-in on a Sunday and being indulgent.
Ironically, I don’t have a 9-5 Monday-Friday job, which is why I appreciate golden Sundays all the more, especially when I’ve worked a couple of late shifts.
Usually a golden Sunday starts off with a lush lie-in (today was until 9am which is considered a lie-in these days for me) and a hearty breakfast. Currently sporting a horrendous post-Ibiza chest infection so I was grateful of a day to chill out.
If you’re a girl, there is also nothing better than a bit of retail therapy on a Sunday. No military precision style shopping which I normally do on my lunch breaks, weaving in and out of mums with buggies and people who walk at a snail’s pace and spending half my time queuing in a bank/Greggs/Topshop etc.
Today was a leisurely stroll with my mother and even though I don’t have the bank balance of Victoria Wood at the moment, let alone Victoria Beckham, I still snapped up a pair of teal skinny jeans and a cream chiffon blouse. I’ve also got my winter coat sorted- a taupe trenchcoat with black piping and a waist accentuating belt, a bargain at £25 from the George range at Asda. Don’t ever knock supermarkets, there’s some hidden gems amongst the BOGOF’s and DVDs from 2009.
Shopping was followed by a spot of lunch- a cream cheese bagel that was so yummy, it should probably be illegal. Oh well, I’m using my cold and the fact that it’s the weekend still as an excuse. I will eventually have to get back in the pool and start training for next year’s Swimathon. If I attempted it now, I’d probably end up dying on the side like a beached whale with asthma.
The afternoon was followed by talking to the world and its’ wife…my Nanna in Spain, my jetsetter of a uni friend Kiki who is currently in Laos about to start work as a reporter (check out her blog here for amusing and interesting anecdotes about her experiences) and catch-ups with friends after being cocooned in my bed for most of the week.
And finally we come to the best part of a golden Sunday, my mother’s dinner. My mother doesn’t hold back and every week, without fail, we get a three course Sunday dinner and my god, is it the bee’s knees. Usually soup and warm pieces of bread for dipping to start with and then for the main act, crispy roast potatoes, spongy yorkshire puds, a rainbow of vegetables and usually something quorn related to accompany all this as I’m a vegetarian. See…we don’t miss out!
A little later on in the evening, when the skinny jeans have been loosened (HA!) we all settle down to have dessert while chilling in front of classic Sunday night TV. A Tennessee mud pie today, if you’re interested. FYI…no X Factor in our house, it’s actually banned and you know winter’s coming when Strictly Come Dancing and Downton Abbey come back on the screens.
Right now, we have enough candles around our fire place to make it look like we’re hosting a séance, but it is rather cosy. Ben Howard, Lucy Rose and Bombay Bicycle Club have all been on my blogging playlist this evening so the height of contentment at this moment in time, is pretty much a ten. Only being serenaded by Michael Buble would top this but seeing as that’s unlikely, I’ll settle for my lazy Sunday afternoon. And that’s just perfect.