Sunday 25 September 2022
Sunday
It’s a rum day is Sunday. There was a time when it was the day of rest, when shops were closed and it was generally a fairly quiet day. Some people even went to church.
Now, if we want to buzz off around Derbyshire on a reasonably fine Sunday, we have to be off by 9:30 at the latest. It’s not that 9:30 is particularly early, but if we don’t stick to it, we’ll hit the Sunday traffic queues and car parks will be filling up.
Even with a 9:30 start we have to avoid our usual route if we aim to miss the Sunday car boot traffic. An advantage of doing that is that we also miss that strangely unpleasant aroma of fried onions wafting over the car boot field hedge as we drive past with the top down.
Today we beat the café rush by about ten minutes. That’s cutting it rather fine, so maybe our 9:30 start needs reviewing. Day of rest indeed – it’s ancient history now.
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Me and Mrs DiscoveredJoys went into nearby Leicester in the late afternoon preparing to see our granddaughter dance in a dance school show. That was great.
However we were surprised how many young people were milling around at 5 pm in the afternoon when we were used to town 'dying' by 5 pm on a Saturday. We were surprised again after the show to see so many pubs, clubs, and restaurants doing a roaring trade for the younger set. Clearly modern life has changed. Didn't see any cricket yobs though, which was nice.
Sundays are our busiest day. Mrs. Vega rushes around the parish doing various services, and sometimes I have to move chairs or run up to the church with stuff she has forgotten. The children are at home. And the road outside is like a racetrack with rich people whizzing by in antique status symbols (which are nice to see) or astride motor bikes (which are a nuisance). Mondays are lovely and peaceful.
It occurred to me about frying onions. If I come into the kitchen and smell them, it makes me feel hungry. At any sort of public event, though, it makes me want to puke.
Your reminded me of the Lad from 23 Railway Cuttings, East Cheam and his Sunday Afternoon. It captured the endless mind numbing hours of a Sunday afternoon.
It was funny because it was true.
DJ - life after 5pm seems to be a city thing. From what we hear, the younger set generally head for cities if they are going out with friends. Round here it's Derby or Nottingham.
Sam - it's as if burger vans fry their onions in a special way, possibly at a lower temperature. Whatever it is, the aroma is not the same as onions fried at home.
Doonhamer - a few months ago I watched a video clip of him doing a Sunday monologue from 23 Railway Cuttings. Still made me smile.
Did you just say 09:30 isn't particularly early? I'm never out of bed at that time on a Sunday morning.
I don't really care what goes on outside the house on a Sunday as I ralrely leave it. Sunday has always been my day for relaxing and it always shall be
It even annoys members of the family from time to time. "We'll pop round on Sunday". "No you won't". I always stand my ground when it comes to Sundays. I won't even answer the door if the neighbour pops round to borrow a drill bit
Saturday = busy. Sunday = bugger off!
Bucko - I couldn't stay in bed that long even in winter. In summer 7:00 can seem late.
There's a 7:00?
Bucko, AKH.
7 o'clock?
am or pm?
Doonhamer - am for me. The other one is for wondering what we'll do tomorrow.
Doonhammer - Thre is no 7am on a sunday. That's far too early...
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