My quiet Sunday is once again upon me. And I've taken it really easy today other than a brief shopping trip and some boring domesticity. With the sun trying to shine I content my afternoon with a Haydn opera and some reading.
After what was a good day time my mood slumped back into flatness last night. I didn't stay out late but rather came home for a glass of port and a comparatively early night. I awoke this morning with my mood a little brighter but nothing spectacular-oh for one of my mini highs. But a little up is far better than this time last week.
Belly pork strips roasted with sage and potatoes await me later along with peas, carrots and cabbage. Very basic I know but you will have noticed to simplicity of most of my Sundays. I'm way too English and traditional on Sunday. Others do culinary adventures of Sundays but not me.
Other than a governors meeting on Thursday I have no idea what next week looks like. Oh I forgot I have to go to a talk on the dynamics of suicide mid week. I know them well, I wonder if the speaker does? Just another week I suppose as I move inexorably towards turning 45 in August.
As for now, it is time for tea, Earl Grey I think today. See you soon.
I Heard a Voice.
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