For me, Sunday is the most beautiful day of the week. A day where you can completely ignore all chores and obligations – without guilt, and wear pajamas all day, drinking endless tea and completely relax, without the judgment of being a slovenly lay-about. Sunday also comes with a delightful ritual that France taught me, one of many. Sundays were my day off in France, there was no school, no waking up early, no running after the children to get the up and dressed. Like wonderful clockwork, Papa would go to the Boulangerie in the village and pick up a bag of croissants and pain au chocolate and we’d all sit in the garden together munching pastries and sipping coffee in the beautiful sunshine. I absolutely adored spending Sunday morning like this with the family, and even now in Germany, there’s something special about nipping over to the Bäckerei and putting a big pot of coffee on and just enjoying it. I’m especially lucky now, because although there’s no southern French sun here to warm my bones (German winter after all), there are glorious church bells that ring out. And coffee, croissants and church bells are nothing if not a treasure. Play some Al Green and you’ve got yourself my version of heaven.