The day that never got started

I seem to have settled on 9am as a wake-up time for Sundays. So once I'd eaten my distinctly burnt breakfast, we planned to go to the Pyramids on the free ticket that everyone in my class got.
Then suddenly he was back from shopping and I was still in pyjamas, because TV got in the way.
By the time he got back from his run we thought we should probably have lunch, as we'd played the new Phineas and Ferb computer game for ages, and done some homework.
But by the time we would have been vaguely ready to leave the house, there would have been less than an hour poolside because they clear the pool early to fish out the drowned people. So we have rescheduled. It always takes us 2 goes to get to the Pyramids anyway. So I made and remade my den while Jof searched online for our summer holiday destination - my first trip abroad! (not including the Isle of Wight)
Never mind. Is that not what Sundays are for?
I see from the Times newspaper that "Mungo" classes as a wacky new middle name. Well it's not new. I've had it all my life and I was named after an ancestor from 200 years ago. Saint Mungo was from 1200 years before that.