I love Sundays. Love, love, love them. And especially since moving to France. It’s not that I didn’t like this particular day living in other countries. I did. But since moving to France it has taken on a whole new meaning. And, quite simply, I revel in them.
Early Mornings
I was awake 5am this Sunday. “Ewww, why?!” I hear you groan. Because that’s when I woke up. I’m an early morning person now. I have a candle and a coffee pot on my bedside table. The candle is for when I wake whilst it is still dark. I enjoy just enough light to see by in the waking hours. It’s a warming glow that lets me enjoy waking up slowly.
If you have ever wondered how people used to live by candlelight, lighting a candle when you wake in the dark is really good way to get a sense of what it is like. It’s truly quite beautiful. And you can see surprisingly more than you think. Then the coffee pot is switched on. It’s one of those filter sorts. It gurgles and takes forever. I mean like 30 minutes forever, as it slowly fills my room with the scent of coffee.
It’s on its last legs and will have to be replaced, but like the machine itself, I am not in a rush. It’s become part of my morning routine. And truly adored on Sundays when I know I can stay snuggly warm in my covers, dozing, thinking, reading, designing restoration works in my head until the coffee machine finishes.
In Love with Sundays
I love Sundays because on this day I let the day morph however it wishes to. I don’t make plans, or at least try not to. It’s about seeing what takes my fancy to do that day, whether it be sleep in, read a good book, garden, embroider, or even work. Sometimes. A gentle to myself day.
It hasn’t always been like this. Certainly, growing up Sundays were part of the weekend and so meant no school. And I was a typical teenager that slept most of the day away. And then as an adult, living in Wales (UK), it was more about activity. Getting up to join the local bike ride, going for a walk, or visiting a castle. Wales has lots of castles.
Fitting in Sundays with Work
My life has been a mix of 9 to 5, which meant weekends were savoured. As well as travelling, working odd jobs to fund my travels, usually in the tourism industry. This often meant Sundays were just one of the days of the week. Not special at all. Rather the day(s) I had off that week became my day to get out and do something. Make the most of where I was living.
Then I moved to France. And began working for myself. And for those of you who have or do work for yourself you come to realise how easy it is to work almost every day. When you have your own business it is really hard to down tools. There is always something more to do.
What Works for Me
And then, rather by accident, I hit upon a great mix that works for me. I work for a company as a wine tour guide, which means I am scheduled as need dictates. It’s very seasonal, which means there are times that are quiet and other times that are super busy. Those super busy times often include working Sundays. Which makes the quieter times all the more precious.
And those quieter times are spent working on my wee medieval restoration house and its garden. As well as managing my online shops (*details below). Add in writing blog posts for here, as well as others. Life is delightfully busy. And thus Sundays at home began to take on a more pronounced meaning. With all this activity I discovered that giving myself a day to myself was incredibly therapeutic.
When in France
Let’s add in to the mix living in France. Because it does make a difference. In fact it is probably because I live here that I have come to love Sundays so very much. Sundays are incredibly peaceful in this country. They hark back, in some countries, to a bygone time. Many shops are shut. Those that are open are only open until mid-day.
Then there are the French noise rules. Yup, France imposes times when you can’t mow, leaf blow, or generally use any loud mechanical thing. And on Sunday that time is really really limited (10-12), making it a very quiet day here in the countryside. People aren’t up and rushing about, which adds to the quiet. I can literally lie awake in the mornings and hear nothing but birdsong. So waking up on Sunday mornings are different to other days, and incredibly tranquil.
And finally
And last but not at all least, what actually prompted me to write this, this past Sunday morning, were my cats. Their typical routine is to wake me before dawn. It doesn’t matter what day it is to them, it’s all about being fed. Once fed, I head back to bed to usually work on something on my laptop. Even sometimes on Sunday, if the mood hits.
Then, after a bit of outside adventure, the cats drift back in with the dawns rise. One by one they settle themselves in their favourite spots on the bed, and fall asleep. As the sky lightens I am surrounded by snuggles. And on Sundays, sometimes I enjoy joining them in their naps. Or sometimes simply basking in the love and comfort that surrounds me. All of this adds up to why Sundays are now truly treasured.
Read More
You can read more of my musings on life in my Finding a Simple Living. Or if it was the French aspect of the above that enticed you, you will find more on France in my French Findings.
If you like what you read, consider joining in and nourishing Pumpjack & Piddlewick. Or buy me a coffee (that little coffee up bottom right).
*And then there are my three online shops :
My fab vintage and antique finds for Pumpjack & Piddlewick.
And my specialist vintage French Silk Scarf shop, which sells, well, you get the idea I am sure.
Here’s a taste of my finds and designs:
Simply click on an image to see more.