I used to hate Sundays, especially as a student, for it meant I'd have to return to school the next day to face my teachers, tests, assignments and all again, for it meant I'd have to get everything done.

But they're very interesting days, Sundays.

The weather is quite often very nice and sunny on a Sunday, the air exceptionally clear, the sun shining brightly, the entire world awash in luminance from the brilliant sunshine, a cool breeze blowing through the air.

There is a certain tranquility about Sundays, the distant happy shouts of boys and girls playing basketball down at the court under my window, the resonating bounces of the ball a gentle rhythm, the songbirds singing away, as the world sits still.

And there's always Sunday Life!, the weekly column by Sumiko Tan I enjoy reading so much.

Sundays are lazy days; usually the television set in my living room blares away as my father sits in front of it, his eyes half-shut as he snoozes away, as my mother naps on the sofa and I, well, trawl the house in search of something to do, but never quite finding it.

There's a laziness in the air on Sundays, that I suspect has something to do with the beach-like weather that so frequently visits Sundays. There's always that sense of anticipation, that something big, something fun, something exciting, is going to come my way, that somebody's going to ask me out.

But, it never happens.

And so Sundays nearly always end up, well, just bland, boring, and lazy, but nonetheless, nice, in that simple way, with my family around me.

What lazy days Sunday can be.