Sundays are such unutterable bliss. They are the one day a week I never have to work, and although I can never decide if I want to see it as the last day of one week, or the first of a brand new one, I love the day just the same.
This Sunday just gone illustrates so well the perfectness of Sunday. Upon enjoying my first cup of tea of the day, I took a mind to colour my hair a little. (I am a particular shade that is most difficult- light brown with enough blonde in it to look not quite dark brown, and enough red in it to look not quite blonde.) So I went a little darker with a sachet of 3-wash stuff, that being all I had to hand.
I spent much of the rest of the day wafting about in my Victorian style nightie, and bare feet. I watched Pride and Prejudice (The BBC version) on dvd; I baked a Caribbean Tea Loaf; I crocheted a gorgeous hexagonal mat for my table, made up of seven smaller hexagons.
We went for a stroll around the park, and amused ourselves a lot by talking in the style of Mr Bennett. We played with our gorgeous little pet snake, and I read the whole of Rebecca Shaw’s A Village Feud.
I really do love Sunday.