Sundays in the "olden days"

In my early teens, my Gran, who I adored, decided I should accompany her to Church - either Communion, morning service or Evensong- thank goodness one, not all! I was never a believer, but I was happy to keep her company and spend time with her, although Evensong was beyond boring. A roast for lunch, then whilst my Dad washed up, Gran and her Sister (great Aunt) would come for coffee and a catch up. (We lived in the same street). Sometimes a school friend who lived nearby and I would meet up for a walk and buy an ice-cream but that’s about it.
Later, it was making sure homework was all done and uniform was out and ready for school the next day.
A far cry from weekends now.

I cant go back as far as the 50's but i can go as far back as the 70's.

The 1 thing that always stands out in my memory was no way hosay did we enter a shop, after church it was home, end of. Saying that, the supermarkets were not trading on a Sunday, I think only corner shops but even the corner shops were not frequented by us.

I cant say looking back it was a horrible day of the week, it was just a case of it was, what it was.

After our roast, we all mucked in.
One washed, and one dried up.
Dad cleaned the cooker, and mum did the putting away, then washed the kitchen floor.

We would all go to church on Sunday morning and return home to a roast lunch that my grandad had cooked. He lived with us but never graced a church.
Dad and grandad would read the big newspapers and snooze after lunch while Mum washed up and got things ready for Monday. My sisters and I would play in our room (3 of us in one small double bedroom) or the garden.
We'd listen to Family Favourites and later Pick of the Pops on the radio. Dad loved The Goons and other similar shows. The TV would go on in the evening for Songs of Praise.
Tea would be doorstep bread and butter with cockles and winkles that we'd bought from a seafood stall that set up near the church on a Sunday morning.
My sister tried to buy winkles from a new fishmonger that recently opened near her and she had to explain to him what they were!

Sundays were usually a day for the family once my farm worker Dad moved to an arable farm when I was 5. Always a roast lunch. We’d often visit my paternal grandmother in the afternoon if our ancient and regularly broken car would take us there. If the car needed repairs Dad would be busy doing it and I’d help him. The kitchen sometimes resembled a workshop much to my Mums horror. An Uncle lived with my grandmother and always had some sort of treat for me. I’d happily wander her garden or sit and read while the adults chatted. Her home fascinated me, very traditional and ordered. Our visits were I think the highlight of her week, she rarely went out as she was afraid of motor vehicles. She had cared for me as a baby as my Mum was often unwell, not a demonstrative woman we were nevertheless close.

At home I could do whatever I liked, usually alone as my best friend had to stay indoors and wasn’t allowed visitors on Sundays. I don’t remember disliking the day unless we were visiting one of my Dad’s brothers, his wife was a teacher and always quizzed me about school in ways that left me feeling I was a total failure.

Gradually the pattern changed, by the time we were teenagers my friend was allowed out, we didn’t always visit my grandmother, Sunday always contained homework at some point. The roast at lunch time continued, the car needed mending less often and trips out took us further afield, often including my friend, something we chat about now as dementia is taking a hold with her memories from then surface and are precious.

I still get that feeling now!
Sing something simple... la..la..la..la..
Spider plants and cabbages and horrible, hateful school!
Corridors of name pegs, and droopy old spider plants.

Gosh two way family favorites!
I’m always singing-that’s started me off:-
? with a song in my heart ?

MissAdventure

Some of the things people have mentioned, we did.
We went blackberrying, and my mum would make a pie, and we sometimes went for a drive, or to the beach.

It's just that the next day looked ever closer - school... ugh!

Yup. A horrible feeling in the pit of the stomach every time that thought entered my head.

Childhood Sundays meant being forced to go to chapel and the pervy preachers. We couldn’t get out of going as they owned our house, and they would walk into our back garden and ask where we were.

Some of the things people have mentioned, we did.
We went blackberrying, and my mum would make a pie, and we sometimes went for a drive, or to the beach.

It's just that the next day looked ever closer - school... ugh!

*MissAdventure^
I hated Sundays, because I knew Monday was next, and that meant school.

Me too!

It smelled and sounded different from every other day, too.

One Sunday is still recalled with amusement in our family, though.
I was about six or seven. It was winter, it had snowed, and my dad had taken me sledging. The interminable church bells were ringing away in the distance. At some point, I loudly complained,
"I can't concentrate on my sledging for those damned bells!".

Mass in the morning, roast dinner, then visiting relatives or going for 'a drive' in the car.

At one stage we used to go to swimming lessons on a Sunday afternoon and then home for sandwiches in front of the television.

There was usually a good children's drama series running on late Sunday afternoon. The theme music from Black Beauty still brings me right back.

I was wondering why it annoyed everyone when I said it, but, I suppose they were all quietly reading, then I came in and announced my boredom.
No wonder they got cross!

MissAdventure

I wasn't allowed to say "I'm bored!"
I was told only boring people said that, and threatened with all sorts if I said it again.

Same here. My father used to say that if we were bored it was our own fault. Actually, I now think that’s true.

Sunday school in the morning then a huge roast lunch and listening to Two Way Family Favourites, it was still the days of boys doing National Service and I loved the messages and the sentimental songs.

I could have written Bohemian’s post except for Sunday school. I remember Sunday mainly for the constant round of eating; a cooked breakfast, a roast for lunch, salmon salad and tinned fruit for tea, and leftovers for supper. If it was wet, we listened to the radio. If not I was always out somewhere - in the park, in the woods, riding my bike or just walking. My parents very rarely went out on Sunday afternoon. They read the papers, my mother knitted and my dad snored in a chair until teatime!

Child of the 60s. My parents were not religious so thankfully no church. Occasionally there would be a family visit which could be boring but mostly we went out somewhere, usually with a picnic. The seaside was about 15 miles away so that was a popular choice, as were some hills we used to play on, damming the stream or running about.

Then home for a bath and hairwash before school the next day.

It seemed to infuriate my family.

I loved Sunday, Dad home, Sunday roast, playing games after dinner. My highlight was going on the bus after breakfast, two buses there and back, with my father to see his parents, my lovely Nan and grandad. I had two hours with them, us all together. Didn’t miss shops open and loved the quiet. Didn’t like Monday and school. One if the best days of my life was leaving it.

MissA, my dad used to say that too and now I say it to my son!

We had to make mum and dad a cup of tea on Sundays, and take it in to them, but we used to fight the whole time.

We weren't allowed to wake them until we had made the tea, so we learnt the art of the "silent scream".

Sunday's meant a fry-up breakfast sat at the table. It was the only time mum would buy mushrooms, 'a quarter', divided between 5 worked out a mushroom each, but what a treat.

My brother and I were sent to two different Sunday schools, one late morning, the other mid afternoon (although my parent's didn't go to church themselves). No playing out. A lot of the day was spent wistfully looking out the window at the empty field opposite, feeling very bored and longing to go out.

Sunday roasts, alternatively beef, pork and lamb (chicken was too expensive). A 'proper' tea of tin fruit salad (if lucky I got half a glace cherry from it) with Libby's evap milk. Bath, hair wash and bed after 'Sing Something Simple. A boring day!

I wasn't allowed to say "I'm bored!"
I was told only boring people said that, and threatened with all sorts if I said it again.

I’m another who hated Sundays. Soooo boring!
Church in the morning, Sunday roast with grandma visiting.
Sunday school in the afternoon.
My two brothers were much older than me so I had no playmates.

Best clothes and white sandals and white gloves.
Once in a while we went to grandmas for lunch. Her house was so dark and scary . Sing something simple on the radio.
Sometimes I had to stay the night while mum and dad went home. I hated every minute of it.

So different to these days when GC plead to stay with grandma.

My brother and I went to church with my father in the morning, while my mother stayed at home and made the big Sunday lunch. We weren’t at all a religious family, but my parents thought we ought to know about it. I remember that my father made a rule that my brother could talk up to such-and-such a road, and then it was my turn. We were both very talkative! My mother was very happy not to go to church. Her father had been headmaster of a church school, and as a child she had to go three times on Sundays. I quite liked going to church because I enjoyed singing hymns.

Then the big lunch, then sometimes we went out in the car (we did have a car), perhaps to a local beauty spot or beach. More often I went to see school friends or they came to me. When I was older I used to catch up with my homework on Sundays. We listened to the radio, but I don’t remember what was on, and of course we read. Reading was important in our house. We didn’t have TV until I was 18.

I did get bored, though. What drove me mad was when my father went to sleep in his chair. I don’t know why it annoyed me so much. Winter Sunday afternoons seemed very long if we didn’t go out,