Sundays in the "olden days"

We had to go to Sunday School at the Methodist Chapel at the end of our country lane. (We weren’t Methodists, but the spinster lady who ran it was a friend of Mum’s). Only about half a dozen of us attended.

One day when we were walking the half mile to reach chapel, a poor rabbit had been run over, but wasn’t dead. It lay, a bloody mess in the road. My sister and I and the boy from next door were horrified and didn’t want to walk past it. I plucked up courage and bypassed it, the others followed.

Can’t remember the outcome, if the rabbit was dead when we went home or if someone had moved it.

?

I loathed Sunday's too especially in winter although it did start my love of old films which my parents invariably nodded off to as I do now.

My Sunday's as a child depended on where I lived, my father was in the army, so we moved allover the place.

When in Britain, except for going to church on a Sunday and the Sunday roast, For a child Sunday was like any other days, we played with our toys and outside much like any other day. If we were unlucky, in Summer time we would have to go to watch a cricket match. My father was a good sportsman and always played in the Unit team, wherever he was posted - and cricket matches were social occasions and they were so boring. No one ever had children the same age as my younger sister and I and my mother would never let us take a book or a toy, so that we could go in a corner of the cricket pavilion and play quietly on our own. I loathe cricket to this day.

When we lived in warmer climates, we spent Sunday at the swimming club, large outdoor pools and a social club where our parents socialised and we would see our friends. Cricket matches that meant no swimming were doubly resented.

Dad owned a newsagents/bookshop and we lived above. I remember on a Sunday when the shop was shut going downstairs to sneak a look at the bodies in a Health & Efficiency magazine that a naturist customer used to order.
Sunday nights were bath night and then for watching a programme I enjoyed on reindeer herding tribes in Greenland followed by Billy Cotton’s Band Show.

In the 50s, liverpool anfield, all the family to church in our sunday best, bath night was saturday. I had 2 dresses. Then out to spend the afternoon in stanley park or rarely on the bus to otterspool and even rarer, across the mersey to new brighton. Poor but united, all nine of us

We were never allowed to play out on a Sunday as it was considered a quiet respectful day, occasionally a friend would be allowed to visit and play games indoors.My parents would buy a couple of weighed out bags sweets as a treat from local off licence which had very restrictive opening hours and we would watch a film on big boxed TV.If during hols we stayed at our GPs then we wore our best clothes and taken for a walk to visit relations where we were usually given a handful of coins on leaving.Sunday tea was a very simple salad,PEK ham sliced, maybe tin salmon plenty of bread and butter,malt loaf or cake and tinned fruit and evaporated milk.
Bath night with hair washing ready for school on Monday and as we got older Mum frantically trying to gather correct change for dinner monies and school saving stamps which were collected and stuck in little books then later transferred into a bank book.Once Dad got a car we did go for drives/walks into country.So unlike today when weekends for our DGCs are full of parties,sporting events,meals out,shopping and generally rather hectic.

I loathed Sundays as well.

Message withdrawn at poster's request.

I hated Sundays, because I knew Monday was next, and that meant school.
After the charts on the radio, it was time for "Sing Something Simple", then bath time, ears cleaned out, and toenails cut painfully short.
I feel depressed thinking about it!

Granmarderby10

I absolutely loathed and detested Sundays as a child and to be honest not that keen on it now. Sunday had a smell to it (obviously roast meat ok) but a sort of cabbagey steamy, cloistered atmosphere of deadness and massive newspapers and being sent to the off license fora tin of marrow fat peas, -it was always peas. No kids played out. This was in the 60s and the Sunday television offerings consisted of boring suited men yakking about sport ( a lot of sport was shown then) or politics or later cowboys and Indians type films in front of which the adults would sit or slump snoring or reading the papers. It was SOOO BOOORING! ?

I felt the same.

I absolutely loathed and detested Sundays as a child and to be honest not that keen on it now. Sunday had a smell to it (obviously roast meat ok) but a sort of cabbagey steamy, cloistered atmosphere of deadness and massive newspapers and being sent to the off license fora tin of marrow fat peas, -it was always peas. No kids played out. This was in the 60s and the Sunday television offerings consisted of boring suited men yakking about sport ( a lot of sport was shown then) or politics or later cowboys and Indians type films in front of which the adults would sit or slump snoring or reading the papers. It was SOOO BOOORING! ?

What fascinating memories. I hope you will write up your life story to include things like that for your children, nephews or nieces. Precious memories and stories that will be lost forever if you don't.

The grandchildren always look bug-eyed when I tell them we had nothing except a radio at home. They can't imagine it. Today they have a constant stream of entertainment whenever they want. That's why our memories are so important.