Monday 12 August 2013

How to not hate Sunday

From "The London Dark Teatime of the Soul" onwards Sunday has a bad reputation in our house. Husband and I generally do a good job of sleeping through chunks of it.

Today the secrets were uncovered. Get together with friends.

One of my little friends (one of the many to whom I'm fun-Aunty-Nat, or funny I'm never sure) was being christened. Church service followed by pub celebration. I renews acquaintances and made new ones. 

As that party broke up I hot footed it over to the other side of the River to meet some dear Twitter friends.

There was a glass of wine waiting with my name on it.

The only blot on a great day was the unexplained decision by Greenwich Council to dig up the bus station... again.

Bus a long walk down steps, taxi rank a route march away. I was with the Walker but still nearly had to crawl there with sit-stops every six feet.