Well, now, at last, I get it. The point of the roast it to have something for all of that liquor to land on that you're drinking in the afternoon on a Sunday. On a nice day like today, that's exactly what you want to be doing, sitting out at a patio bar, working you way through pint after pint or, better yet, a jug of Pimms (unless the bar you're drinking at is, sadly, out).
The other big option is to be napping. I did that today, too, after my brilliant debut at noon. Look at me, I am a power sleeper! My napping was from about 2:30 until 3:30, which meant no tube journey to the Southbank Center's grand reopening party, no trip to Cambridge to listen to Fretwork play evensong, no excursion to some beer/cider festival in the hinterlands. No sir, my grand outing for the day was to walk a mere half an hour down the river bank to The Crabtree, favored pub of my coworkers, where I was amazed by the glory of the many Sunday roasts being consumed by my fellow Sunday afternoon tipplers - with half a chicken sitting on a pile of potatoes, carrots, and cauliflower, with a "Yorkshire Pudding" (microscopic puffy batter thing) holding a puddle of gravy and a scoop of stuffing on top of it all, it was more than enough for the two of us to split. Yum.
Anyway, J and I came home to a wechsler, who was up for a round of Citadel (I won), which was, I think, improved by the Pimm's based alcoholic beverage I was tossing back. Now we're all feeling tired and (me) lazy. I've been blowing my nose constantly for the last half hour, and while I'd imagine it is allergies, fact is, there's no new pollen since yesterday and I fear this is actually a cold. Plus my body is a bit achy, more than it should be. Bah. Here's hoping it gets cleared up before tomorrow. And still, all in all, I think this was a good, lazy Sunday, and a very nice weekend.