We always hoped that my dad would get the car out to take us all to church but unless it was pouring with rain (not that unusual in the West of Scotland), we trudged downhill and back uphill in our Sunday best, hats and all (1940s). Roast beef for lunch followed by perhaps apple pie or treacle tart and custard. No Sunday school for us - it was mind-bendingly boring. We girls would go round to Granny's in the afternoon to read the comic strips in the Sunday Post which we never had at home. My uncle would take me out for country walks and taught me about bird calls, then to watch cows being milked; or down to the harbour and small shipyard to see what was what, with an ice cream on the way home. When I was a bit older, I'd take the dog out for a walk myself or we would all go for a drive and give her a run on the moors. Inevitably the day ended with homework and, in my case, reading as late as I could get away with.
