A Sunday, just as it should be.

Lie ins, 4 in a bed.

Dog walks, chasing rugby ball grubbers.

Soup, salads and toasties.

A long afternoon, all working in the garden.

One on a tractor, one behind a mower, one with shears, one with loopers, everyone chasing the barrow.

Late autumn roses, their smell fragrant.

A reward for their contribution, time at the skatepark.

A Sunday roast beef, all the trimmings.

Creme brûlée and Strictly.

Kisses. Cuddles. I love yous.

Just as it should be.