No plan Sunday

This entry is a short one.

At the end of the half term week, after an amazing Glastonbudget the weekend prior; after driving an hour to buy pointe shoes only for them not to have the right size point shoes; after having what I think may have been covid and my body aching; I needed a rest.

On the first weekend in June I read an article (Marie Claire) about someone who had started to follow a ‘no plans Sunday’ approach. And for one weekend only I wanted in.

Sitting in my back garden doing very little

By nature, I’m a planner. I plan weeks, months, sometimes years in advance. My diary is full and so I find this approach pretty uncomfortable. But this weekend I wanted to do nothing and not feel guilty about any of it.

And so rather than wandering, I sat in my own back garden. I put the radio on. I had a slow breakfast. I read a book (The Hidden Palace, The Daughters of War, #2 – Dinah Jefferies). I fell asleep. I played darts with the family. I had a beer. And another one. And it was lush.

Whilst I have Sunday plans for most of the rest of the year (honestly, no joke), and I can’t subscribe to ‘no plans Sundays’ for a prolonged period, it was absolutely delightful this past Sunday not to do a whole lot.

And for this weekend only, there was no wandering. Quite simply, that’s it.