I had one of those deep nostalgia moments earlier, I remembered all the way back to the early 1960’s, specifically Sundays. We always went out on a Sunday, but not until the afternoon. Before then I had to endure the ritual of the cooking of Sunday dinner, it drove me nuts, and is probably why I still hate Sunday dinner!
As soon as we’d had breakfast, the oven would be lit, the meat and all the veg prepared. At the same time ALL the windows would be opened, sash windows so lots of cold air came rushing in. That was the problem, the house never had any heating, or running hot water, but I digress, back to Sunday dinner.
I would sit curled up in the chair, freezing to death, the smell of roast beef wafting through the house, my stomach growling like I hadn’t been fed for a month. It was torture. Starving, cold and bored to tears, I just wanted to go out on our Sunday outing!
When dinner was finally served, I then had to learn the art of balancing on a cushion while nit-picking my way around the plate. The only veg I would eat was peas and potatoes, didn’t like much meat either, Yorkshire Pudding was the best bit, especially as some were kept warm to have with syrup after dinner…but only IF I ate all my dinner!
And this is how miserable I looked after having suffered the Sunday dinner ritual!