Sunday, 30 September 2012


Daniel calls it nesting: these wonderfully slow Sundays that fill the house with flour dust and the smell of warm bread. I have a loaf baking in the oven and a pastry case chilling in the fridge, and no real inclination to step outside.

The turning of the leaves - which I can see happening day-by-day on the ancient tree behind our house - turns me into somewhat of a homebody, and I could quite happily spend an entire weekend experimenting with new recipes, admiring my home from the comfort of the sofa or the study chair, and listening to Gardener's Question Time on Radio 4. Something about being at home on a weekend is endlessly appealing to me, and as exciting as some of my friends' adventures are - weekends in Wales, days at the seaside, autumnal picnics - there is nothing I look forward to more than just being here, with him.

Somehow it's Sunday evening already and I'm looking forward to a bubble bath, lentil soup and a slice of homemade treacle tart. I love these darkening evenings, with shards of rain on the windowpanes and trees in a constant flurry of wind. Tomorrow I'll get out there into the elements and take in what the world has to offer me, but today I'm wholeheartedly here.

1 comment:

  1. Cosy Sunday's at home are the best.
    Treacle tart is an extra bonus.
    Lisa x