Surefire ways to waste a Sunday

Where, my son, lolling in front of the television, says, 'You have had yourself a Sunday break, Dad, won't you cook us something nice for dinner?'

Sunday morning. It has rained, the weather is perfect, the sky has a washed look — just right for spending the day at the farm. There is beer in the fridge, an unread pile of books by the bedside — what more could a man want? “Good morning,” says my wife, ruining the contemplative moment. I am putting bread and eggs in a basket, rolling up the newspapers — all that I need to carry on my day away. “I am coming with you,” she says, and will not be dissuaded. I would not mind — not too much, anyway