A Sunday kind of love

Through my teenage years and very early 20s *pretending I’m still in my early 20s despite the fact i’m now 24* I always lived for Saturday. Even when I worked in retail and had to spend my Saturdays showing endless amounts of customers where their size was on a clothes rail, it was still the centre of my week and the time I looked forward to the most. Saturdays were the time that I knew I would be social. I always had a new outfit on order from my beloved ASOS in preparation for a night out to my local hellhole nightclub *because god forbid if someone saw me in the same dress twice* and a bottle of rosé chilling nicely in the fridge in preparation for predrinks. It didn’t bother me that I spent more money on shots than on nice things, and that I saw the bouncers who worked on the doors more than I saw my family. A Saturday night spent indoors was seen as a failure and my entire existence revolved around staying out late, dancing to r’n’b classics.

As the weekends flittered by, I began to realise that time was incredibly precious, and therefore I should using my Sundays more wisely. The proactive adulty me no longer wanted to spend her Sunday’s in a hung over pit, sighing the day away like a scorned Greek muse, only taking breaks from feeling weary to throw up last night’s kebab. I wanted to get out the house, see more of the world, and spend less time dreading work on Monday knowing I had done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING with my day.

Sundays are now a day for life admin. If I have any jobs that urgently need doing (such as drafting a blogpost or making sure I have food for the rest of the week) then that falls to Sunday morning. Unlike before, I look forward to getting up, getting dressed and getting shit done.

Sundays are also the day I spend with James. As his weekends fall differently to mine, Sunday is the only day we are both off and can do nice things together. Although sometimes this is a bit of a pain as we are somewhat limited in the time we can spend together, it really is a good incentive for getting out the house. Our Sundays together are usually spent in Greenwich, eating our bodyweight in pub lunches at our favourite The Gypsy Moth, or pottering around London on a mini adventure. I have already pledged to spend every sunny Sunday in the upcoming months on a blanket in Greenwich Park, catching some rays and spending some quality time with the people I love the most.

I would be lying if I said that I no longer wake up on Sunday in a drunken haze. I’m still very sociable and of course it would be unrealistic to stay in every Saturday night. But my priorities have changed and so have my taste in how I spend my money. As I’ve said before, I like to go out in the day time (mostly to brunches and afternoon teas) which thankfully means that I’m home and tucked up in bed by 11pm at the absolute latest. I alway make sure I have copious amounts of water before bed, so I never wake up with that horrendous dehydrated feeling at 8am. I have my make up wipes reading on the bathroom side, so I don’t wake up with panda eyes and lipstick that resembles the joker from Batman. If I’m really organised I even have a fresh pair of PJs prepped at the end of my bed so I can snooze in the upmost comfort. Sometimes I don’t go out at all, and can look forward to James finishing work so that we can have some dinner and watch a film in bed. My teenager punishment of a night in is now my adult treat.

My Sunday activities (in no particular order)

1. Having time to exfoliate and moisture properly

2. Eating one of mum’s amazing roast dinners

3. Going for a long walk around Greenwich market

4. Finalising my latest blogpost

5. Taking photos and editing them for the blogpost

6. Afternoon naps with James

7. Meeting my gal pals for lunch and not feeling hungover

8. Going to the cinema

9. Lounging around after a day of being productive

10. Getting in to bed and knowing I haven’t wasted a day

One thought on “A Sunday kind of love

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