The morning was ideal.  A 7am wake up and it is time to make the doughnuts…or in my case decorate the cakes for some side cash.  Maybe it was the glint of my pallete knife across the buttercream or maybe it was Living Colour’ s “Cult of Personality” streaming in loud and clear through the FM like 1989 was right on top of my fridge, but the morning was perfect.  It was still and quiet at first - just like a perfect Sunday morning…someone else’s Sunday.  I turned up the radio dial to break the erie perfect snug morning dew then began to think about the fact that in a Sunday to come - I will be in London and there will be nothing snug or perfectly normal about the morning. I smile.