That's my Funday

Weekends. They have this misleading way of starting off slowly, all filled with lazy promise (Friday). By the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, and you've run the errands, or caught up on some DIY or just spent the whole morning cleaning the Friday-night aftermath, the weekend is just galloping past. Sneeze once, and it's time for bed on a Sunday night.

A couple of weekends ago, I had a brainwave to really turn Sunday into a day of rest. Actually, this decision was brought on by two very important external factors. First - the pork sausages I had defrosted the night before for dinner, which we ended up not using.

And second: my determination to conquer my secret shame.

Nigella. Jenny. Jamie. Jeremy. Rachel. The good ol' Cook and Enjoy aunties. The list goes on.

Cook books. I have a thing for them. They always feature on a birthday or Christmas wishlist, and I am always thrilled to get one. My shame is this: that over years, I have cooked about five recipes in total - collectively - from this entire shelf of books. I always end up looking for recipes on the Internet. Or getting them from friends. Or my mom. Anywhere, except my treasure trove of wonderful cook books.

Ahem. Back to Sunday. I decided that since it was another beautiful day of unseasonably warm weather, we would celebrate by having brunch outside in the garden. Under our beautiful tree. With fruit and coffee and fresh-baked muffins out of one my books. Because my new resolution is this: to cook at least one thing at least once a month out of at least one of these books.Very achievable, which is just the way I like my resolutions to be.

Muffins baked, table laid, scene set for our go slow Sunday.

And after fruit and muffins, before eggs and sausages: a bit of exercise. Swinging, sliding, soccer (her version anyway. Where you throw and catch the ball.) The birds sang, the sky sparkled and the tree threw it's winter sticks and tiny leaves gleefully all over our table.

This tree. It makes the biggest mess in winter. Sticks, and leaves and tree junk all over the grass. But we love it. Countless picnics, parties, sprinkler jumps, painting sessions and play dates have taken place in it's welcoming shade. It's our very favourite thing about this house.

When the food was eaten, and we were all played out - we curled up and slept. For three hours. The entire family.

Because it's not called go slow for nothing.

Happy Funday.