Why I Newly Love Sundays

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BACK in the day Sundays were so lazy, so laid back they were practically horizontal.  Let me take you on a trip down my memory lane.

If my lovely cousin with the initials D and M is reading she will laugh and laugh when she remembers this. 

A bus stop in Ranelagh and a massive massive unstoppable belly laugh so loud and long and thoroughly enjoyable I almost peed my pants.  That was a Sunday to remember.  And it was over such a blonde moment (mine!) I couldn’t possibly speak about it here.

But that was how my hung over Sundays happened back in the day.  We would have been on the tiles the night before and Sunday saw us catching a bus into town and going into O’Neill’s on Suffolk Street for a carvery lunch that was so humungous it was falling off the plate.

I suspect the lovely chef knew hangover pain when he saw it and was feeding it away.  

Whatever, we stopped short of asking for straws to suck up that gravy after our roast beef/lamb carvery.

Then we would haul our meat sweats into the cinema on D’Olier Street and watch something, anything as we digested our dinner.

At any given time there would have been 8 of us.

After the cinema the obligatory Have To Be Done bevvies were enjoyed in The Long Stone before we caught the 48A back out to Ranelagh.  Perhaps fell out of it and further fell up the steps into our apartment and into bed where literally 10 minutes later the alarm clock would jolt us out of sleep by screaming, “Get up, it’s Monday!  Time for work! Come on! Come on!”

It’s slightly different these days.  Slightly. I still love Sundays but for different, very different reasons.

I get a lie on. Usually mostly.  Words cannot describe what this feels like after a long week.  It really sets me up for the next round.  It is particularly lovely if the kids are fed and dressed and the draining board cleared when I come downstairs.  Ahem.

I get a cappuccino with a muffin.  We like to go for a coffee on a Sunday morning and I love that blueberry muffin sweetness and a strong cappuccino to wash it down with.

It is my day of rest.  From exercise.  I have been very lazy of late where running is concerned. I like to blame the dark evenings which are a factor but there is nothing to stop me going out at the weekends.  Except laziness.  But for the last 7 weeks I have been working on my core strength and I take Sundays off.  I enjoy the work out very much but I enjoy my Sunday’s off a bit more.   

It is the last day of the weekend.  Weird I know but when I wake up and think ah shite it’s Monday but then realise it’s Sunday, a little “Yay!” unfurls in my head and we share a high five.

Lastly but by no means least I get a few hours to myself on Sunday afternoon when the kids get taken off to their granddad’s for a while.  This is worth its weight in gold.