Monday after a Sunday is always tough.
I always find it hard to get out of bed, wrestling with my cozy bed and the dilemma of just how many times I can realistically press snooze.
I love the weekends so much.
Saturdays, to laze around, catch up with washing, shopping and cleaning.
Then Sunday, yesterday, I had fun catching up with friends over a relaxing lunch after church.
I love girlie chats and pots of tea, don't you?
Of course, it was also Father's Day but we still managed to find space in our favourite cafe to eat and catch up.
I chose my favourite:
but I could have had this:
Then time for Lemon cake. I hoped it would be nicer that the one I made this weekend. It looked nice. Hmm. Nah. Dry.
It had been a tough decision because I also liked the look of this:
I should have had the coffee cake.
So, Sunday came and went and it became Monday.
I fought the will and duvet and got up, went to work.
Swam at the gym to relax on the way home.
Welcome back Wimbledon.
I have missed you.
I can't play tennis, not at all.
Not even for toffee.
What does that phrase mean?
Anyway, I can't play and have yet to go and watch a match.
I will be watching you on the telly and eating a few strawberries too.
And maybe a Pimms?