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Sundays

– Nursing mild hangovers with virgin Marys and tea, while watching the Parent Trap and snuggling with your closest friends under a blanket that covers as far as the eye can see. Finally getting your lazy bag of bones out of bed, and onto the verandah for some pesto laden toast and a scenic view. The birds chirp while you chew. Oh, and its your birthday.

– Getting brunch at that new cafe that is so freaking adorable you didn’t think it could exist outside your mind. Scones and homemade jam and clotted cream. Honey ginger lemonade. Honey glazed ham and cheese on toast. The new waitress is your friend and has the inside scoop on what to order. The owner wants your opinion on a new juice concoction she is trying out. The music sets the tone perfectly. And there is a drum session going on right outside.

I’m falling in love with Sundays.

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