Sleepily contemplating gnocchi while gazing at the rain darkened pavement outside my bedroom window on this Wednesday night, it seems like a good time to be looking back at the last couple of leisurely Sunday afternoons that I've enjoyed in a similarly languorous fashion. Sundays have not always been the highlight of my week, in fact, up until recently, Sundays often signalled the start of my working week rather than the breakast-in-bed-athon as they are known to most. On the rare occasion that I swapped a shift, I would almost always be found pedalling down to Columbia Road for a cup of coffee from Lily Vanilli & a bunch of blooms before it was time to head home for tea. Now that I'm working just two days a week (a development I enthusiastically blogged about very recently) the potential for my Sunday plans has been infinitely increased. I'm pleased to say that over the past couple of weekends, Andrew & I have been able to make the most of the tail-end of the weekend with some thoroughly Sunday suitable activities.
Finishing my last week of working full time last Saturday, I felt that the occasion needed to be marked & that it was only right that Andrew & I should celebrate. The two of us falling through the door at almost seven o'clock, however, quite quickly agreed that neither of us could actually, errr, be bothered to. At least not that evening. A long lie in the next day, however, found us restored & sufficiently tempted by sunny skies outside that we were, admittedly against our habit, ambling East on Dalston Lane. Swinging by The Hackney Peddler, The Russet & over Hackney Downs, we found our way to Clapton Pond & (eventually) the right end of Lower Clapton Road for The Clapton Hart. Frequently name dropped by one of my favourite blog writers Ava of Shake, Guac & Roll for its occasional vegan roasts & toad-in-the-hole(!) amongst other things, I trusted in her judgement that it would be the perfect venue for my first London Sunday roast. Yes, I admit it. Despite often walking past our local pubs en route to weekend markets, their pavements outside full of picnic benches of people having their fill of yorkshire pudding soaked in gravy, every week agreeing 'we should really do that one day', almost three years together & we've never quite well, err, got it together. This Sunday was different. Eagerly settled at a seat in The Clapton Hart's vast beer garden at its back with pints in hand, we impatiently flipped through Sunday papers while waited for our veggie roasts. Napkins in laps & sleeves rolled ready, it was worth the wait. A pistachio & apricot nut roast alongside crisp roast potatoes, new potatoes, a monstrous yorkshire pudding, a pile of shredded greens & roughly chopped carrots. Scoffed in sublime sunshine for just over a tenner alongside (alas, reasonable by London standard) £4 pints, it was an afternoon better spent no other way. Winding up the day with a circuitous walk down to Shoreditch for a friend's gig at the Old Blue, it is a Sunday that we will (really this time) repeat soon although I suspect sadly sans beer garden weather.
Succeeding in my aim to enjoy more breakfast food since I'm not working as much (not the absolute extent of my ambitions, I can assure you, employers), this Sunday just gone also got off to a splendid start. Perhaps predictably following a recipe from my much-loved 'A Modern Way to Eat' cookbook (that I nothing short of waxed lyrical about in my full review of it in my last post), that morning I let a few handfuls of oats & amaranth simmer with a pint of oat milk in a saucepan while my tea brewed nearby. Adding a swirl of honey & a scattering of blueberries to the porridge as it thickened, it was enjoyed back in bed with the first volume of Proust that I managed to re-read in a dizzying three days this week, phew. With Andrew at my side, we made good on another long term promise of paying a visit to the Tate Britain south of the river to see the late Turner on there until the New Year. Leaving late, we picnicked on pretzels & raspberries on a bench outside the gallery before making it around the exhibit in the last couple of hours before closing. There was some sentimentality to these plans as one mine & Andrew's first 'dates' was to see some Turner canvases at Tate Britain by way of research for one of our university courses. Still, I've always had a fondness for Turner's seascapes & sunrises, struck by his delicate but commanding use of colour & light in particular, extended further to include the unusual pictures that incorporated myths & legends, circles in square frames. Shortly after our tour of its six rooms, both stocked up on postcards, we buttoned up once more & walked up to a rapidly darkening Westminster to get a train home again for more episodes of 'Mad Men' (I'm besotted) & getting back into bed.
This week has been, I suspect, making up for Sunday's laziness but I'm making sure to appreciate the pleasure of days spent on course reading, how spoilt I am(!) Tomorrow my Grandy is coming down to London for the day so I'll be able to show her the sights outside of my bedroom & blog about it for you. As for now, having survived my first seminar this afternoon (thanks for being friendly, fellow students!), I think I'll be getting something of an early night in preparation for Andre Gide & a certain Friedrich Nietzsche this time next week, yikes.
How do you like to spend your Sundays?
Speak soon - O.
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