Sunday, 22 September 2013

Sundays aren't what they used to be............and preparing myself for the departure.

So I am going for a nostalgic blog today. It is Sunday and I was up at 6.45 am. This is not right. Sundays used to be a day of rest and reflection. Now, unfortunately they are just like any other day but church bells ring - well they do in my street as I happen to live right next door to a church. If I am lucky enough to be able to lie in then I sometimes get woken up by the people going to church and the sound of hymns. These Methodists are a lively bunch. 
When I was a lass I actually lived on a street with the Church of England 3 doors along and a convent about 8 doors along the other way. It had real nuns and everything and they were all a bit, well ,eccentric. They had minis ( cars not skirts ) and would drive them rather carelessly. This was in the days before speed bumps were invented so I often had a near miss at the hands of Sister Whoever rushing to get back to the convent.
Sundays as I remember always used to include the following.....
We always had our roast at lunchtime.....I don't think I have ever cooked a roast at lunchtime , it's always at night in this house.
We always used to go for a long walk after lunch.
'Tea' was sandwiches and scones and cake.
No shops were open apart from the odd corner shop where I would be sent for a forgotten Sunday roast item, like Paxo or gravy powder.
Sunday night telly would involve at least one costume drama and always on the BBC. 
I am sure that I did bathe on other days but Sunday night was a definite.
An early night with that sinking feeling of having to go back to school the next day.
And these days? Well I am usually working on a Sunday which annoys the hell out of me, all shops are open, as well as not doing a roast at lunchtime, sometimes I don't even do a roast at all, and really it's now just like any other day in most respects ....only a little bit quieter.
I personally think it's a shame. I always think that despite it now being the same as a weekday that Sundays just always 'feel' different don't they? A bit like Christmas Day. If you step outside on a Sunday and close your eyes you just know that it's a Sunday. It's true and if you don't believe me then try it.
B and Q broke the law back in 1989 by opening on a Sunday ( bit of quiz trivia ) and now it would appear every single shop known to man is open too, but they often close earlier. I know there was uproar in St Ives a few years ago because the Spar opened on Christmas Day and I thought that if you couldn't live a day without going to a shop then you were a bit of a sad act. By all accounts though it was a busy one and the big selling items were batteries, good old Paxo and of course.........WINE!
I am not a fan of the commercialism of Christmas so double reason for me not to go out the house and when you've got sprouts to peel and cross on the bottom there's no time for it anyway.
My hangover has gone! My carb laden dinner soaked up the last of the nasty vodka and all the pints of water that I drunk flushed it all away. I slept quite soundly although the elves in my head were still having a little hop and a skip and I am never going to go out again on a Ryvita dinner. I have learned my lesson.
H has just come in after a night out and I have a feeling that there may be nagging involved when I try and persuade her later to do some packing before she returns to uni. I can't actually see her bedroom floor and there are clothes literally pouring out of every drawer and I don't want tomorrow to be dominated with ''Mum have you seen my......?'' and ''Mum where did you put my........?'' type conversations.
She has been home for 3 months. I am used to her being here again and I know I will get used to her not being here again. I am happy that she is doing well, I am happy that she knows  what she wants to do with her life, I am trying to figure out how the hell my baby is 21 in 2 weeks time, and I am going to be brave. The chick is flying from the nest again and although I am used to it now, it still wont make it any easier when I hug her goodbye in Cardiff on Tuesday.
And of course I am driving back on my own by myself and I am not nervous at all.
If I take the wrong turning then I am sure London is fabulous this time of year.
I will be fine - as long as I'm back by next Sunday.

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