It was Sunday. I never get up early on Sundays. I sometimes stay in bed until lunchtime. Last Sunday I got up very late.I looked out of the windows. It was dark outside. ‘What a day!’ I thought. ‘It ‘s raining again.’ Just then, the telephone rang. It was my aunt Lucy. ‘I’ve just arriced by train,’she said.’I’m coming to see you.’
‘But I’m still having breakfast,’I said.
‘What art you doing?’she asked.
‘I’m having breakfast,’I repeated.
‘Dear me,’she said.’Do you always get up so late? It’s one o’clock!’