|Saint Mary Redcliffe Church, Bristol|
Dong, Dong, Dong, the bells of Saint Mary Redcliffe Church started our Sunday morning, then St Lukes followed along with St Francis Church. All three churches within half a mile from each one and we were situated between all three!
They would all start their Sunday morning with a peel of Bells that could truly wake the dead. my sister and I, still in bed, would put our heads under our pillows and wait for the clamour to stop. The bells would gradually slow down until just one bell tolled till it stopped.
That started our Sunday.
|HP Sauce ad from the 1950's|
Next off we went down stairs to Grandma's room to have our hair brushed out from the plats we wore during the week (a protection from getting nits as they called them) we would sit by the fire in which Gran would put a curling iron, when hot enough she tested it on newspaper before curling the ends of our hair ready for the dreaded Sunday School.
I think this is where, as girls, habits were handed down ( not that we knew it then), Mum after breakfast would start to prepare the veg for Sunday dinner, the table cleared and peas would be podded, carrots scraped, mud washed off the potatoes, and if it was roast lamb, a favorite, we were asked to pop down to the garden and pick some mint, even thinking about it makes my mouth water, it would be washed and chopped and mixed with malt vinegar and some sugar in a little jug. Pastry would then be made for the apple pie and apples peeled. More often than not Sis and I would sit at the table chatting, Mum was always in a good mood on a Sunday, I suppose it was girls time.
To live in the NOW, old habits die hard and handed down from mother to daughter. You don't realize it till much later in life it sort of dawns on you especially on a Sunday morning.
Sunday is not just another day even though the pundits might think it.
|I still love a good Sunday Breakfast!|
Anyone else have a special day?