8 am. I wake up but stay in bed, reading. Peter is snoring like a baby beside me and I admire the color combination of our bed linen.
I'm currently reading a thriller called 'Sharp objects' (or 'Vassa föremål', cause it's in Swedish) by Gillian Flynn. So far I don't like it very much, but it might just be the translation that annoys me.
9 am. By now Peter's awake and in a hurry for work. We're having breakfast that might not look it, but tastes good – ginger juice, lemon tea, mango yoghurt and vegan ham sandwich.
While P is all stressed I'm taking my time, enjoying my day off.
10 am. After breakfast I'm doing my weekly face cleaning routine – cleanse, scrub, mask. When the mask is drying up I do the dishes which hasn't been done for a couple of days. I really hate doing dishes and can't wait to have a dishwasher one day.
11 am. I take a shower and get dressed. I rarely wear makeup on days off since I always wear makeup to work. It feels nice to let the face breath now and then, especially if you've got skin as mine that's always been a bit of struggle (oily one day, dry the other and super sensitive in between).
Then I cut off the seam on my Levi's jeans, never getting bored of the raw edges look apparently.
12 am. I'm taking the bus to Dalston junction to change for another bus to take me elsewhere. Wearing my newly cutoff jeans, a white linen shirt from
Gina Tricot, old Birkenstock's and a straw bag from
Beyond Retro.
When I jump off the bus this is what I see. But no, I'm not spending my Sunday in St Pauls Cathedral.
1 pm. I'm getting hungry and decide to have lunch on my own at Pain de Quotidien. Pea and feta frittata.
2 pm. After lunch I walk over the Millenium bridge to Tate Modern.
My plan to see both the Mona Hatoum and the Georgia O'Keefe exhibitions fails when the price is around £15 for each exhibition and there is no combined tickets.
I decide to go for the Mona Hatoum exhibition since all the tourists seem to be there for O'Keefe. Plus Hatoum is much cooler. I manage to snap some photos before an angry guard tells me not to.
3 pm. I've seen the whole exhibition and found my favorite piece – this photograph called "Van Gogh's back".
4 pm. On my way home I do some grocery shopping since all the shops close at 5 on Sundays. I treat myself to some sunflowers and realize this is the second reference to Van Gogh today.
5 pm. I have a Pimm's while pinning things to my Pinterest and waiting for P to come home from work.
6 pm. I start preparing dinner. We have this rule that the person that's home from work first (or if you're off work) is the one who cooks. So this day it's my turn and I decide on prawn tacos with a nectarine and avocado salsa.
7 pm. Dinner's ready ---> time to eat.
8 pm. On Sundays P works at this coffee slash bike shop and once in a while he brings home leftovers like raspberry and apple tarts.
Now I'm so full I struggle to move. I guess I'll spend the rest of this day watching reruns of Girls in bed and making plans for the upcoming week. How else would you spend a Sunday night, really?
