Sunday, 22 May 2011

Sunday Girl

The Hubster's CD collection is pretty one dimensional in my opinion; The Clash, Boomtown Rats, The Best of Punk, he is stuck in a time warp.
However I did find one gem and I have hardly listened to anything else since; Parallel Lines by Blondie. Appropriate to be listening to Sunday Girl on a Sunday methinks.

"I know a girl from a lonely street, cold as ice-cream but still as sweet, dry your eyes Sunday Girl"

I was just 9 years old when this was Number one in May 1979. Class is always timeless though isn't it? It really doesnt seem that long ago but................. time waiteth for no man.

I'm so thrilled the world didn't end yesterday, they referred to it as The Rapture, well the only rapture I 'm familiar with this morning is buttie shaped.

We always have the boys full attention when the aroma of bacon wafts temptingly under their noses. It produced a superb photographic opportunity though with the boys looking particularly handsome in this one I think.

Man or beast, the redolence of sizzling bacon results in instant "salivatiousness" Its a Debbie word! For me bacon has always signified one of two things Sunday mornings and/or camping trips and it always will.

Sorry boys, I eat the crispy fat too, sacrilege to discard it.

A long, languishing look through the papers, a linky, lonky walk with the dogs and time for a bit of pottering in the garden, this is a Sunday girl's Sunday, my Sunday and I love it.

Planting up the trough, I have gone for a bridal theme this year, in honour of K &W.

Once in full flower, we will have standard & trailing Geraniums, Lobelia, Begonia and Spurina and hopefully if I water, nurture and tend sufficiently, it will be all "white"

Down pipe? What down pipe?

After the bacon doorstop, lunch is a more delicate affair. Seafood, fennel and saffron soup. Having ready to go fish stock in the freezer is always a winner and worth the effort.

A culinary cocophony of river cobbler, mussels, king scallops and prawns, served up with a gusty hunk of granary and well, replete and the sofa calls once again. I also love to add clams or fresh cockles but they are near impossible to get hold of in the sticks.

Later on, Hubster starts packing for the week ahead. I have never been comfortable with this, accepting yes but ...... well it is what it is and we have our routine. He does what he has to do with his suitcase on wheels and I pour us both a glass of wine and wait.

We peruse the evenings viewing options together and then its snuggle time, him, me, the boys.

Chez TJ and home is where the heart is and this is a Sunday for the Sunday Girl.

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