The Sunday Morning Service (hint: not involving church)

"That looks like pancake perfection" announced Julian as he slid his pancake onto his plate.

I had to agree. It looked as though I had created yet another Sunday morning winner. Slow cooked in creamy butter, and fluffier than a dryer kitten, this flapjack only needed real maple syrup to reach nirvana state.

Needless to say, the condensed nectar of the mighty acer saccharum was liberally applied. This has become a Sunday morning ritual.

Could today get any better?