That Sunday Feeling

The kids were asking yesterday why we have roast dinners on Sunday rather than any other day. I hope today showed them. We were all up late: so late in my case that the 3.15 roast lamb and trimmings was in effect my breakfast and, speaking at 9.20pm the only meal of the day.

There's a lot of prep in a roast dinner, and even more clearing up after, but all worth it. I certainly couldn't do it every day of the week - nothing else would ever get done.

And then Doctor Who at the wrong time of day (though we closed all the shutters to give more of an evening feel to things) followed by a lovely sit outside in the sun with a stack of gardening books and a sleeping Mr B.

The shot is from this afternoon, early on in lunch prep. Mr B's coffee lies abandoned - himself having been distracted by the piano - and the bowl foreground is full of brambles foraged by the kids, destined for a bramble and apple crumble that was never made when I realised that it not in fact October in Northern England, and ice cream would be a more popular dessert.

Tonight I have to get on top of this summer's sleeping difficulties.