It has been a lovely Sunday.

As per my usual custom I travelled to my parents' home for Sunday Roast. Mother is a wonderful cook and I always enjoy her homemade yorkshire puds with the vegetarian gravy She makes especially for me. She still chides me regarding my refusal to consume roasted flesh, stating that I am certainly not taking in enough protein. In order to avoid a 'discussion' and the resulting probability of indigestion I assure her that I am quite well, my GP has declared it so, and she is not to worry.

We had a nice reminiscence this afternoon, of Mrs. Lundstrom and her lovely baked cherry tarts. I especially remember those. Mrs. L was the cook in the household where my father was butler and lived across the courtyard from us on the estate property. I would return home from boarding school on weekends and catch the aroma of home baking wafting on the air. Fresh bread rolls, buns and cakes of every variety, but the cherry tarts were my favourite.

Mrs. Lundstrom was married to Mr. Lundstrom, the gardener, and we were on such familial terms that I was encouraged to address him as Uncle Ted. No children were born of their marriage and thus they doted on me quite shamelessly. In truth, all the servants in the household were like an extended family to me.

Sadly, both of these charming souls have passed on into the next life. Quite often on my visits home we remember them to one another. I had a bit of a sentimental thought on the drive home, a vision in my mind's eye of Uncle Ted cradling my little girl. The thought brought a warmness to my heart and a slight smile to my lips.

This evening finds me a bit weary, but for reasons I can easily identify.

After an impromptu seeding session with MsV, Michael returned to the flat at half 2 this morning, waking me from a deep sleep. I was awake from that time until a quarter of 4 due to the boy's extreme snoring. It would not be unreasonable to equate him with the 125 decibels of a heavy metal rock concert performance. I have made a note in my diary to ring the Doctor's surgery tomorrow and procure an appointment for our human buzzsaw to see what may be done to cure him.

Mother cat was waiting on the doorstep of the flat to greet me when I arrived home. Mewing and creating quite a fuss for attention. I brought her in and we rested in my chair. I, reading over some of my manuscript and stroking her gently, was rewarded with a handsome purring. Her purr is so resonant and throaty. A cat's purr has always comforted me, both the feel and the sound of it. Such a contented girl she is.

Michael comes in from the garden and immediately, taking notice of Mame (mother cat), he strongly entreats me to take her out as he is allergic to cat dander. I oblige him as I know it is the truth. From the fence she looks back at me, eyes squinted against the sun. The very tip of her tail points skyward and twitches ever so slightly as she meows her soft goodbye and makes a move to the stables to join her children. She is a lovely, dear girl.

It seems sentimental thoughts and feelings have ruled the day, and truly that is not discommodious in the least. It is good to remember and to appreciate. It is also good to enjoy some of the simple pleasures that come without a fee attached.

I would like to take this opportunity, in closing, to wish my friend and fellow submissive, Tanomar, a very Happy Birthday. I believe that he will be 50. Enjoy the day, Tan, and the delight in life you share with Ms Juleen. All of us wish you many happy returns of the day.

Ryan