Sunday mornings are by far the best mornings.  Imagine a week full of sunday mornings? I would be the most contented little bean there ever was if that could ever be.

Our Sundays are spent sleeping until we wake.  Sometimes that's 9am, sometimes it is 12pm.  Today it was 8.30am.  A lazy morning of cuddles, endless cups of lady grey and the most heavenly scrambled eggs and warm crumpets.  The most lovliest start to the day. If i could have a sunday for everyday of the week and eat breakfast at every meal, i would be so full and happy.

After layering up with cosy creams and peepings of paisley and jade green; a day of cycling, sunshine gazing and doing everything a little slower was all i wanted.  









Tangled hair, snowdrops, green green grass and new brown boots.  Warm wind and no mittens! And the most perfect sunday sunset to end the day. 

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Tonight the Mr will mostly be not listening and watching Top Gear and Being Human.  Since i have no love for cars or Jeremy Clarkson (or werewolves come to think of it) i shall be ringing home for a catch up and then doing some cutting and sticking i should think, possibly accompanied by a walnut whip and some camomile tea.  And i must wash my hair. And iron some pillowcases too.  Although obviously not at the same time.