Slow Sunday

It's one of the most scary things about growing up, realising how much you are becoming like you're parents. The Moore genes are strong and I can see my dad in me more and more as the years pass. We used to mock dad for getting his breakfast ready the day before, but recently I've found myself doing the exact same thing. The coffee is ready to brew in the morning and I've given up trying to pretend I'm not turning into my dad.

Bacon and egg sandwiches after church today, followed by the obligatory Sunday soup making (carrot and coriander this week, if you were wondering). Quick view of a house (more for curiosity than anything) and then a jolly little 8km round the block (river is flooded again).

Wondering if I need to hold back on the use of brackets (thoughts welcome).