Some days feel totally different to others. It amazing how often we say "It feels just like a Sunday", simply because Sundays feel special.
In our house 'Sunday' means relaxation. The Sunday paper gets spread all over the floor, we occasionally watch Andrew Marr on TV, and we tend to stay indoors (other than dog-walking), doing as little as possible.
This last Sunday we went out for lunch (as I mentioned yesterday), otherwise a roast would come from the oven; the only occasion of the week on which the oven gets used. Usually a Chicken or some Lamb.
We have also decided that our afternoon cup of Lapsang will be served in a pretty old-fashioned Tea Service that hasn't seen the light of day for decades. There is little point owning such things unless they're used. This one below is a particular favourite; very 'refined', and definitely requiring the use of one's pinky pointing outwards. A slice of Battenberg completed the picture.
Sundays should be special. In previous times it would have meant a tedious hour or so dressed-up and spent in Church, but these days such practices have given way to a comfortable sofa, and conversation about what's in the paper.
Long Live Sundays.