Today is Sunday, which naturally means a bit of a lie in. But better than that, it's Valentine's Day which also means breakfast in bed. And even better, it's half term which means the usual monotonous Sunday routines of washing school uniforms, packed lunchbox food shopping and getting ready for work don't apply. The absolute icing on the cake is that we're also away in our favourite cottage in Wales, so really today couldn't get any more perfect.
I sent the man out to hunt and gather the newspaper, which given our secluded and isolated spot meant a 10 mile round-trip in the car, and for shame, he went in his onesie, spurred on by the thought of slipping back into bed to savour breakfast. At least we're 300 miles from home and nobody knows him.
The Sunday Times is not my usual paper, but I was intrigued to see their newly re-launched magazine, so we delved in. I'm slightly embarrassed to say that we are predictably stereotypical when it comes to our approach to the Sunday papers. He'll automatically go for the sports section, followed by the business and then the news. I'll always pounce on the glossy magazine first, and them move on to the homes supplement, and then travel.
I tried my best to keep the magazine to myself, but my daughter spotted her idol Taylor Swift on the front cover and desperately tried to spirit it away.
What I love best about a huge, meaty bundle of papers at the weekend is flicking through idly until something catches my eye. I like to dip in and out all through the day - on a normal working week it might sometimes take me the full 7 days to get through the whole thing.
Since Sundays are about lazing and relaxing, I returned to the magazine over lunch. Venturing outside even though it was cold, with my mittened hands I sipped spicy cumin and squash soup, followed by a very generous portion of homemade chocolate fudge cake. This was when I read the fascinating article about the Douglas children and the scientific studies that have been carried out over decades which shape policy making in everything from education to health.
It was a brisk, bright day so we headed out for a walk to take in some of the stunning Welsh views. The walk was rather longer than it should have been due to some inept map-reading, and we returned after trekking (mostly uphill it felt like) 12 km, with rosy cheeks and icy fingers.
While the Sunday roast was cooking, I grabbed half an hour to sit and read and found myself nodding with a wry smile to John Aldridge's tech column about 'techiquette', and as someone who's recently given up wheat, I drooled rather uncontrollably at the chestnut pancakes with bacon and syrup recipe - tomorrow morning's feast if I can figure out where on earth to buy chestnut flour from round here.
After dinner and once the small person was in bed, it was time to rest my weary legs on the sofa with a hefty G&T. With the equally shattered puppy curled up at my feet it was back to the magazine again. Since the fire was blazing and I was by now feeling toasty and snug, I was drawn to the fascinating photo essay on Canadian ice fishing huts. My partner is a crazy cold-water swimmer so I'm used to being out near freezing water, but this is another level. The hardy Canadians conduct their fishing through holes in the ice, but from the relative 'comfort' of their own individual and portable huts. Much like us Brits might personalise a seaside beach hut with pastel stripes or hanging bunting, these ice huts are a thing of beauty with bespoke paint jobs and personal additions, and, I'm pleased to see, little woodburning chimneys protruding from each roof.
There's still so much more I want to read - articles about Ruby Wax, Dita Von Teese and India Knight, as well as some I'll happily remain in the dark about - Jeremy Clarkson and Nigel Farage. Now you can't say it's not varied!
Disclosure: I was compensated for this article but all views and images are my own.