Today I declared June 25th a ‘gimme day’. So far today, I have rolled about in my pyjamas. (Actually, I say pyjamas, I actually mean an old t-shirt, with some suspect stains, and a pair of socks). I have watched two movies, and gone back to bed for a catchup-sleep.These days are infrequent. A combination of Rachel, work, and various other committments, and a very grown up belief that doing ‘nothing’ is a fairly decadent, indecent sort of way to spend your time, mean that this is a rare occurence.As it is a rare occurence, I am unsure whether writing about it in this blog is wise- what if I was to give the general impression, that I was the kind of louche individual, who can while away hours in a state of slobby dress- doing absolutely nothing? Oh wait- I am, or would be precisely that sort of individual, if I could get away with it… I did throughout my late teens and early twenties.Until I was 24, I would discuss weeekends in the following terms- saturday daytime would be spent trying to get out of bed. With me eventually rising, to give me enough time to get ready for whatever civilised social engagement(usually the kind of civilised engagement (which meant a packed room of 2-500 individuals, moving rythmically, to repetitive beats, with conversations in corners fuelled by endless cigarettes, consisting of utter bollocks between strangers), followed by a return home at dawn, or soon after. With Sundays being entirely spent, in bed, dozing, and eating junk food with the people I had been out with the night before.I was vaguely aware that sundays for others, were spent doing more ‘meaningful’ things- DIY, shopping, watching the Eastenders omnibus over a roast dinner, playing sports, or spending time with/avoiding close family. This awareness was combined with a sense that whilst that all seemed very admirable, I wasnt quite sure how these people lived a life where it was possible to be awake during a Sunday daytime. Although I completely knew how people got themselves to a bar for a sunday evening round up.Throughout my twenties, as my career developed, I gained new responsibilities- these sundays became more and more infrequent. And this week, I spotted the opportunity to have one- even though it is actually Thursday. So here I am, in my pyjamas, eating Haribo sweets, with a beautiful boy making me cups of tea, between naps, and episodes of the Daily Show on download. I can hear people outside occasionally, going about their meaningful existence- and again, while I understand it, I cant for the life of me understand why anyone would not want to be dossing around in their pyjamas, drinking tea, and watching movies- with the curtains tightly shut, and that world on the other side.