The Sunday Afternoon Conundrum

So your visitors arrive on Friday evening and you have supper in the pub and lots to drink and go to bed tipsy and happy. On Saturday you have long country walks and eat good food and have nice things to drink and you put on a film and everybody falls asleep in front of it. On Sunday you have delicious breakfast and read some papers and all the while you're chatchatchatting and then, suddenly, they're gone.

And then what do you do?

Normally, I would have a very long bath and then polish myself to a high shine. But in the absence of a tub, I become like a bear with a sore head. I can't lie on the sofa and watch movies because Herself thinks that's the DEVIL'S WORK and also has to do actual work. The dog is begging not to be taken for any more walks. So I tidy up, which is sad and boring because it means the fun's over and gone back to London. I do the washing up, which is sad and boring because it means the fun's over and gone back to London. I wish I still smoked. I wish I drank on Sundays. I wish something, anything, would happen to relieve the boredom.

It's like being 14 again. Awful.

Herself's theory, and it may prove to be a good one, is that we should have decided on something very delicious to eat on Sunday night, rather than our usual leftover whatever. Cooking! I can do that. Plus I think there should be sticky buns or at least crumpets to have for tea. And I'll go for a wet sploshy run, too. Is this the answer to the Sunday Afternoon Conundrum? We'll see...