That Sundays are for: mooching in your pyjamas, stuffing yourself with carbohydrates, finding out who has been voted out of The X Factor, maybe having a bath, on suitable days walking across the last of the British countryside, on unsuitable days playing Scrabble, phoning mum, musing on the balcony and napping inconsistently.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg50B1ltp9xJbbtblvR2qjVjBnfi9lGo4CAo05yAaWaoQyAam29zSxGnl1DJurMq1ilTV6Kx9c-cfKfYYvuQ_mufzNFdgTMH7siAZsT9R3iDFPArbkktwVwAf7f3DVbN3E7TkkM2qAtAF_u/s320/Photo+on+2010-10-10+at+19.27.jpg)
That Sundays are not for: doing everything that needs to be done for Monday that you put off during the week; including creating a portfolio on the kitchen floor from three year's worth of sketchbooks, going into technological battle with a stubborn scanner and shouting at Adobe Illustrator (both versions 3 and 5) whilst everyone tries to civilly watch Downton Abbey.