There are advantages to not drinking anything at all on a Saturday night. There are also advantages, although I admit these are fewer, to working such long hours that you find yourself with odd sleep patterns. Among these advantages (well, ok, the only one) is that you very occasionally find yourself getting up at 6.47 on a beautiful Sunday morning.
6.47 on a Sunday morning is a time that I had previously believed to be a myth, like the time of King Arthur, the time of one million years BC when dinosaurs shared the earth with Racquel Welch (I’m sure that SOFA will understand that I just have to show a picture of her, I wouldn’t be a bloke if I didn’t) or the time when men thought that long hair and platform shoes were cool (there is no photographic evidence that I am aware of that proves that I was ever such a person).
There is such a time, though, and on a morning as lovely as this it is a time when the sun begins to creep up over the top of our house, giving us a picture like this:
As it moves around to our front of our house we get a scene from our front door like this:
And as it begins to shine into our sitting room we get a picture like this:
So that’s my attempt at showing the contrast between sunshine and shade. I hope you enjoyed it.
Now, since I’ve been up for five hours and it’s only just noon, I might go for a snooze in front of the TV.