Slow Sunday

For today I am the tin man, rusted and unmoving. Joints ache, and I stumble as I take the stairs.The cold and damp has seeped into every joint, swelling knuckles and knees; making my spine creak and groan. It is a day for swathing myself in soft tees and cosy knits, for snuggling on the sofa with borrowed lives from the well worn pages of 'The Night Circus'....  cocooned in my own little world, safe from the wind and rain, with a steaming cup of coffee and newly remembered bar of dark chilli chocolate; it strikes me that there is much to be said for a little Sunday self indulgence;