Sunday morning

Do you ever stop to marvel that the Velvet Underground's first album contained the gentle and pretty 'Sunday Morning'?

Anyway, I think I hit the sack before midnight, so I'd had a few hours sleep before the Minx parachute-rolled into bed at four-thirty. Mind you, considering the Jack Daniels related indulgences of the night before on my part, neither of us were that keen to embrace the sunshine streaming through this thankfully well fortified window this morning.

But pluckily we made it out of bed in time for checkout and, having collected Hannah en route, we made our way over to Fallowfield and, specifically, the Fallow Café, where Charlie's tenure as 'front of house' is about to come to an end as she takes the path more sensibly travelled with a nine to five, Monday to Friday style job. 

It was a most restorative session involving kippers on my part and pancakes for the Minx who, by this stage, was in dire need of sugar. That said, it did, in the end, take a run for me to reboot my stuttering metabolism before I settled down to record the radio show. (Parts one and two.)

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