The only day when I felt bored, and extremely grateful for the pile of books I would have taken out of the library the previous day. My father insisted on us being quiet - not a natural state for us four girls. He liked to sit in his study and sleep read the papers and we were not allowed to disturb him.
The day started with us having to be dressed and clean, ready for breakfast at 8am. As my mother didn't like that either, it was a sullen affair. As we got older and rebelled and turned up in pyjamas, the rows started.
We children were then packed off to church (but not the adults, note) where we were eventually thrown out for disrupting too many services (whispering mainly) and finally, for a sister discovering that if she placed her hand at a certain angle, she could direct the sunlight off her watch face straight into the eyes of the vicar. He complained to my father, and banned us all. Hooray! Only then my father shouted at us and threatened us yet again with boarding school. He tried to get us into Sunday school instead, but they refused to have us. Apparently my father wasn't willing to give up his Sunday to accompany us to church and monitor our behaviour, and was quite annoyed by the vicar's suggestion! I think my father's behaviour, on reflection, was quite appalling, using the church as a babysitter, although I do realise that they were quite happy back then to do so, in the hope that they would save our immortal souls.
Then, on to lunch. We all dreaded it because this was the weekly battleground with my father on the issue of table manners and topics of conversation that he found acceptable. As my mother had tea with us quite happily throughout the week with no problems whatsoever she must have felt like cracking a tray over his head many times, as I think, looking back, she must have seen it as a criticism of her child-rearing abilities.
If the weather was nice, occasionally we would go out for a picnic, or a walk, or even play shuttlecock in the garden with him if he was in a good mood, while my mother did some gardening. One of us (we were on a rota) would have helped with washing-up while she cleared away and dried. If wet - just dire, quiet reading of books only, board games if we were quiet about it, while he had another nap. The worst time though was if he wanted to play Monopoly, then we all had to play whether we liked it or not. I hate Monopoly to this day.
Tea tended to be something on toast, or sandwiches, salad and cake or ice cream.
I used to be quite relieved to be allowed to go to bed and pick up a good book again. As I grew older, homework became a very good excuse for getting out of all the forced family togetherness. Looking back, I think my father forced himself to do something he didn't enjoy because he thought he ought to, and we sensed it.