Just an Old-Fashioned Sunday

One of the things I love about being older is the huge amount of precious memories I have accumulated, many that have been stored for decades. On dreary rainy days, like today, I take them out and enjoy replaying them again. 

One of the most enjoyable is a good old-fashioned Sunday.

Sixpence

The day started with a shout from my dad, “Who wants to earn sixpence?” With a large household there was always someone happy and willing to run to the shops to pick up the morning newspapers.

I was the youngest of seven, so rarely got the chance, but if I did, my sixpence would probably be spent on a bar of Caramac chocolate, half eaten before I arrived home. I would usually save a few squares to share with one or two of my siblings.

Sunday Roast

Oh, the smell of Sunday Roast! Mum would start cooking soon after breakfast, and the whole house would smell delicious. :) Roast lamb was my favourite. How, each and every Sunday, my poor mum rustled up such a magnificent feast on such a tight budget, I will never know. Roast potatoes, mash, cabbage, peas, carrots, Yorkshire pudding, and, of course, the roast meat itself. However hard I try, I can still never recreate that incredible aroma of my mum’s Sunday Roast.

Children would be sent out to play, returning home just in time for it to be dished up. I never remember any of us being late! No one would risk getting what was left. :)

Full Bellies 

With tummies full to bursting, everyone settled down in the sitting room for games or debates. I loved these times, especially in winter, with a huge crackling fire (my dad was a coal man). Snakes and ladders, chess, ludo, cards, where there was always someone to play with. Debates were lively and always interesting. As the youngest, my points were not very valid, but I learnt so much from everyone else… and also learned how to have a voice in the noisy confusion of life. :)

Afternoon Tea

It is hard to imagine, but even though we were a relatively poor family, Sunday afternoon tea was a sight to behold. It sometimes reminds me of the John Betjeman poem, Myfanwy. Fortunately for mum, she took a backseat at the event, which was usually left to the children (my eldest brother was 17 years older than me). Various sandwiches, two Swiss rolls (chocolate and jam), a trifle, fruit cake, angel cake, tinned fruit, a jug of custard, jars of marmalade and jam, delicious homemade bread, and lots of fishy things! 

My sister and I, being the youngest, were often paid a penny to make winkle sandwiches, or take the shells off prawns for my dad. That meant we could buy a penny bun on the way to school the next day. :)

Goodnight

After a long and eventful day, we were bathed, hair washed and sat in front of the fire, gleaming clean and smelling of medicated shampoo. :) If we were lucky, there would be enough milk for an Ovaltine or cocoa before being sent up to bed, with strict instructions to read for only half an hour and then lights out.

In wintertime, the rooms were freezing, no central heating back then. The windows were also single glazed, and I can remember marvelling at the beautiful patterns made by the inside frost. Hopefully, dad would have popped a brick wrapped in an old towel, in our beds, heated in the oven above the fire.

Downstairs you could hear the comforting sounds of the rest of the family talking, and as my eyes gently closed, I dreamed of the day’s adventures playing in the bomb sites of London, completely oblivious to the dangers. What a very lucky lady I am to have such wonderful memories! :)

Join the Conversation:

What is your favourite Sunday memory? Have Sundays changed much for you? What, if any, traditions do you keep?