Sundays used to be so simple BC (before children), we would lie in bed late if we wished. Eventually we would get up and I would get the papers, make breakfast and spend the next couple of hours perusing the sundays. Then at an acceptable hour it would be down the pub to meet the mates have a few pints and if very lucky on to my mum’s for a Sunday roast.
Now it consists of getting up the back of six! Making breakfast for number one son who has an unnatural need for very little sleep and making a bottle for number 2 son after which there is no point getting back in bed as the eldest has now taken up squatters rights on my side of the bed, so I tidy the kitchen make some green tea and wait for the garage to open in order to get the sundays which will be mostly unread by the following weekend. The rest of the day goes by in a blur. Then before I know it it is bath time for M and the weekend is just about over only The Westminster Hour on radio 4 while making the pieces (packed lunch) for the following day and polishing shoes left to do. . . Still, wouldn’t have it any other way.
Abba – The Day Before You Came
The Streets – Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way