Today has been the Sunday that I always dream of on Thursdays. Lazy, slow, but thoroughly there.
Getting up at 10:30am isn't usually my idea of a good time. What a waste. But today I knew that I just needed it; the sort of day when you wake up after over 10 hours' sleep and feel as if your head has met a barrel at full force. That sort of tiredness can justify that sort of lie in. And I love padding around in my dressing gown - sort of lazily, sort of usefully - tidying a few things here and there, carrying a half-full (it's always half-full) mug of tea around and stopping to gaze out of the window at the neighbours busying about on their Sundays.
Sunday breakfast is becoming more and more of an institution here in our house. There is always multiple courses: fresh orange juice, lots of milky tea, warm bread, and plenty of my Mum's homemade jam. Crumbs cover the table, the new dishwasher is full by noon, but it is delicious and the company is always so good.
Full from a little too much bread (is a whole loaf between too a little too much?) we pulled on boots, wrapped ourselves in scarves and head out for an autumnal walk by the river. The air is so fresh today, the sun warm but the shade pleasantly chilly, and the colours are simply fabulous. The mist was heavy, even after midday, and winter was very much in the air. It was so fun to walk arm-in-arm with Daniel, chatting about plans for the future, ideas for the wedding, thoughts on papers that I just must read in the coming week.
The fields around us are still waterlogged from the recent floods, turned into ings and ponds where local wildlife has taken up residence. The mist hanging over the watery landscape was wonderful; white seagulls appeared stark against the grey, all flying in circular formation.
We visited one of our favourite local ruins, struggling with the gate, admiring faded gravestones and forgotten woodlands, and a man with a Guy Fawkes beard on a Sunday stroll. Then we bought coffee and hot chocolate (and a bacon sandwich for him) from a lady listening to Bon Iver in a silver camper van by the river. Red-headed children hula hooped in the mud nearby, and dogs of all shapes and sizes ran around in a frenzy. We sat and admired the boats and the dogs as we drank our frothy drinks, and the grey skies turned a lovely wintery blue above us.
Something warm has been kindling in my stomach all day long. Something wholesome and satisfied. It's easy to think wistfully upon times that were so good but now only belong in memory. It's easy to spend Sundays wishing that tomorrow wouldn't be a Monday. But on Thursdays the prospect of a Sunday is such a far-off dream, and that place where the dream comes true in the right now is something really quite awesome.