Sundays.

I adore Sundays.
I wake each week to Church bells chiming, the sounds of many different birds and the distant grumble of traffic. My own personal alarm clock.
Strong old coffee served with porridge and honey, Radio 4 mumbling in the background like a dearly beloved friend.
A lazy day ahead, perhaps a winter walk to the woods to see the Handsel trees and a stop off at the local.
No twist of the arm required.
Rosy cheeks and cold tips of noses warm gently by the open fire as we settle back and listen to the gentle hub of conversation.
Reluctant goodbyes will come soon after and homeward bound we go.
The end of Sunday draws closer.
Until the next time..... x