Once upon a time my perfect Sunday would involve waking at midday, a dirty big all-day breakfast with the weekend newspapers sprawled across the table, a quiet afternoon beer by the river and maybe catching a movie after dinner. Yesterday was nothing like this. Yet it was perfect in it’s own little way.
A sleep in til the gloriously civilised* hour of 8.30am. Hours spent at the park, running, jumping and spinning. Playing hide and seek in the giant fig trees. Coffee. A glimpse at the weekend magazine. Cuddles in an un-made bed. Fish and chips by the river in the dying light. A sleeping toddler and some British comedy series with the husband. These days, this is what makes my heart happy, on a perfect little Sunday.
What makes your perfect Sunday?