Sunday’s

I know for many Sunday is a day of relaxation, a day of family time, for some reason for me, Sunday’s drag. I just want them to end. I don’t like Sunday’s! I often wondered if I had a reason unknown to me as to why, all I get though are happy memory’s, Memories that took place in the 80’s and will forever stay there.

A young girl aged 7, waking up too early for a weekend, it was only because I was so excited.
For today was a Sunday, my daddy would be coming over to pick up my brother, my mother and I, to go back to his for the day, were I would also see my nana.

They lived in a small village in the middle of no where, it was so peaceful.
The day would start with a visit to his friends home, they had a daughter around the same age as myself, but she had no interest in me, I didn’t mind, I preferred my own imagination, playing in their large garden trying to catch butterflies and wild mice. After a morning coffee, we would walk the few short steps to the local pub. I was never allowed in the pub unless I was going to the bathroom, so my dad left his car door unlocked, I would be handed a can of coke and a packet of cheese and onion crisps and told to not take off the handbrake. Then I would be left to do as I wanted for a couple hours.
There was a maize field next to the car park, as soon as the pub door closed, I would run to the gate, clamber over and would just run, trying not to get lost. As soon as I became tired, I would head back to the car, where a new game of pretending to drive to the stars and other unrealistic places would begin.
My imagination stopped me getting lonely. Sometimes I would have a book or a comic, whatever I had, I was always content. Sometimes bored, but always content.

When my parents had finished their drinks and catch up, it was back in the car, and a short drive to my nana’s for dinner.
I will never forget her home, the row of cottages, the long path with grass either side, opening the door and the smell of a roast floating through the air. Darting to the kitchen to find some juice, before running back for hugs.
My brother and nana would sit on the sofa, my self and dad would sit on the arm chair, TV on with Land of the Giants or Star Trek, or even racing, none excited me, I was just glad to be there.
Mother on the other hand would sit alone in the kitchen, refusing to join us in the lounge.
My nana dear of her, was deaf and dumb, I never got the chance to learn it, and rarely understood her, but I loved her. She soon learnt to give me stern glares that told me off, if I was annoying her. More often though it was warm hugs and like most nana’s, food!
She adopted the most amazing cat, or should we say he adopted her, a huge black and white beauty, whom she named Photo. Another reason I loved to spend time there, he hated children, but as a child this made for a challenge as I tried so snuggle into this fluff as claws came out, grumpy old boy, who lived to the grand ole age of 23 I believe.
The days seemed too short, it was only every other weekend, I wished it could have been more.
The weekends soon dwindled out, then, finally, we moved over 100 miles away, and I never really saw nana again.
A handful of times, when my brother was able to take me up, or when dad could pick me up, but sadly she passed on my 14th birthday, I never got the chance to say goodbye.
My dad, joined her a few years later.

Maybe this is why I no longer like Sunday’s, they will never be the same as this, people grow, society changes, people pass on, the pub has gone. places change.
Time Moves On.

I never share really personal photos but I want to share these with this post, the 2 most precious souls, will never forget either of you, thank you for making sure at least part of my childhood was safe and happy. Oh and the grump ole boy too 😀