Lazy Sundays

I've been having a very relaxed weekend, Saturday was absorbed by a series of naps, I think I must have gone to sleep somewhere in the flat a dozen times, and I still really don't feel together. Exciting weeks are all well and good but they do take it out of a chap.

Today is going to also be lazy, I'm going to do some baking later, and make some bread but that is about it. Oh and some washing, I have to pack for the trip across Europe.

I would go for a walk on the Heath but I just don't fancy it alone today. I love my lazy Sundays, waking up fairly early to shuffle down to the shops to get good coffee and a copy of the papers. Then chasing sunbeams across the room while reading the latest on shoes and trips to far off places.

Afternoons spent walking around galleries enjoying the art and trying to spot the first dates. The delightful pace of life. So that you never rush to the shops for ingredients before it's too late, instead you take a lovely walk to pick up some artichokes or the almonds you need for the cake.

I like Sundays, I especially like Sundays with girls.

I remember the time we blew a whole afternoon drinking frozen margaretas out of jam-jars in a garden while talking about the Great Gatsby, or when we went shopping for the perfect silver shoes around Regents Street ending up in Claridges for cocktails. Or the Sunday when you came over with a sparkle in your eyes and we ate artichokes and then I showed you how much I had learnt about massage since we last met.

For all my moaning and complaining about woman-kind, I am hopelessly and utterly smitten. You might change shape every now and then, and look and act completely differently but I can still spot you. And even when something unpleasant happens and it all goes wrong. It's for a reason, if I look back on the less than pleasant moments I can see they all taught me something.

I'm not giving up on women just quite yet. I only need a few more goes to get it right, much like a good Windsor knot