My Morning

The Perfect Start To A Sunday

There are sometimes moments when travelling that I miss normal life routine. Like those things you do at a certain time, every week, almost religiously because, well, it’s just that thing that you do, at that certain time, every week and you like it.

There’s one routine in particular that I treasure and sometimes wish I could just pop home to do and then pop back to Australia. And the more I see friends back in England posting wintery photos, the more it increases this wish.

Let me paint you a little picture;

It’s a Sunday morning, 8:30, the sun is seeping in through my bedroom window (I never shut my blinds, I like to wake up to light) and my dad lightly knocks on the door to wake me up. I get changed in to whatever comfy, warm (it’s England) clothes I can scrounge from around my room – Sundays are my tidy up days… so it’s usually a bit messy at this point – and get dressed.

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My parents, Oscar (our loveable labrador of seven) and I hop in to the car and drive a smooth ten minutes through town and park up. And from there we walk through the beautiful fields that, much to my amusement and relief that I no longer attend, sit behind my old college.

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Lovely muddy fields, full streams and lots of other playful dogs later, we head onto the path and towards town.

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Everyone has their guilty pleasures. My families is coffee. To the point that when my parents announce they’re off to ‘the pub’ at 8pm on a Wednesday night, they actually mean they’re heading to the Costa down the road that stays open late, for a small cappuccino and half a chocolate twist each.

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Anyway, on a Sunday morning, my family head to the Pret a Manger where we order one cappuccino (my mum), two flat whites (my dad and I), one pain au raison (halved by my parents) and one chocolate croissant (mine, which will absolutely not be shared, unless my dog gives me those eyes, then he may get a few crumbs depending on my hunger levels).

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After our delicious light breakfast (because Sunday lunch is only a few hours away), sat outside, discussing what’s to come this week and sometimes touching on what on earth I’m going to do with my life (still undecided), we make our way back in the cool, sunny morning, to the car and head back home.

I love this routine more than anything and I hate it that looking back sometimes life got too busy and I missed out on this perfect start to the day. Still, there’s many more years to come – sorry ma and pa, I plan on gatecrashing these Sunday strolls again when I get back!

Here’s to good coffee, a lovely Sunday and wonderful parents.

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One thought on “The Perfect Start To A Sunday

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