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Sunday Stuff

Posted on Sunday 25th November 2007 at 00:00
Sunday is a funny old day in the Iggy household. That is, assuming that household is the right word when one lives alone. Yet more changes to the work schedule mean that for the time being I don't have to work on Sundays, which although not a great thing financially, does at least ensure me a day off each week.

I often spend Sunday morning in bed, sound asleep. I need this time to make up for my very poor sleeping patterns the rest of the week, but frankly I'd rather be awake in bed with the radio on, a continental breakfast and the Sunday papers. Once again, this is prevented by living alone, as the very act of getting up to make breakfast and go and buy a paper rather defeats the purpose of staying in bed.

I usually rise around lunch time and spend my shower time cursing myself for not being up in time to cook a really nice breakfast on the only day of the week when I have time to eat one. Lunch on a Sunday is, frankly a miserable affair. I was brought up in a fairly traditional home, where for the majority of my childhood years, Sunday Lunch was a full roast with potatoes, vegetables, gravy and dessert. We ate at the table and no one was allowed to leave until we'd all finished eating.

This last rule was infuriating for the entire family, since it meant having to waste half the afternoon watching my brother Michael pick away at his food and complain bitterly that he didn't like this and that. Eventually he'd be forced to finish it, but not before we'd all near died of boredom waiting for the next course. But I digress.

Because of this long association between roasts and Sunday lunches, I find myself greatly saddened by the sandwich I have for lunch on a Sunday now. I miss the smell of the meat cooking in the oven, with maybe a pineapple upside-down cake adding its own sweet scent to the aroma of the house. Sundays often meant a trip to Blackbushe Sunday Market, and on our return that wonderful smell would be there to greet us.

My mood perks up a little in the afternoon, though not very much, as this is the one time I have to really sink my teeth into the housework. I'm well known for being a slow worker at the best of times, and even the basics such as vacuuming, dusting and cleaning the kitchen and bathroom can take me hours.

If the weather is fine, I might allow myself some fresh air by washing the car for 20 minutes, but even this is no substitute for what Sunday afternoons should be about. After lunch is the best time for a long walk in the countryside; taking in that fresh cold air and gazing with wonderment as the scene before me slips from autumn into winter.

When the weather is less accommodating, a good book or magazine strikes me as the perfect way to pass those fleeting afternoons and long, dark evenings. I seem to have little time for such things as reading these days, and it is beginning to vex me somewhat. I hope that this week I can find the time to get all my housework completed on Saturday, sometime around my time at work, so that when I've lunched on Sunday I can focus my attention on doing what I want to do again, and not on what I feel obliged to undertake.

Happy Sunday everyone.

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