Harry's Blog

I'm really beginning to enjoy Sunday mornings. They are almost how they should be. Chilled, relaxing and time to recharge after a hard week.

When I first moved to Northolt I found Sunday mornings rather difficult. Back then my weeks were very hard - five work days alone with two very demanding little babies. Trying to be a good dad and keep my job. And a lot of the time I did that alone.

By the time the weekend arrived I was completely worn out and in need of a break. But Sunday never was a day of rest. In some ways it was harder. The day you expect to be a family yet it's nothing of the kind. Because it wasn't a work day for me it felt all the more lonely.

Then there was the expectation that I should bring them to church...with the added pressure of 100 nosey people watching my every move. Post wedding though I've escaped the clutches of the church and I feel much more relaxed about life now. Christmas aside...it doesn't bother me, and I don't bother it.

The real change in Sunday mornings however comes thanks to the twins growing up. Now they are two gorgeous 18-month old toddlers. Right now they are sat on the sofa holding hands and giggling at each other. They got up there themselves. They can walk and climb, find the toys they want to play with, sit for ages looking at books and keep each other greatly amused.

Being a father no longer feels like one of those variety acts that tries to keep numerous plates spinning on the end of canes. No, instead I'm the supplier of meals and cuddles, the former at set times, the latter any time they want them. My Sunday mornings allow me to relax just as much as the twins do and I begin Mondays without the hangover from the previous week.

So my Sunday mornings are almost perfect now. There's only one missing element now, and I'm sure you can guess what, or I should say who, that is.