How do you spend Sundays ?

[teamsaint]

Since you spend Sundays listening to Debussy, regarding wind pieces, perhaps an arrangement of Debussy's 'apres midi d'un faune et Le Pétomane'?

I'm not sure how you manage to turn an comment that I happened to spend a little time this morning listening to Debussy into something that sounds like a worryingly unbalanced lifestyle, but you did !

[Beef Oven]

I'm not sure how you manage to turn an comment that I happened to spend a little time this morning listening to Debussy into something that sounds like a worryingly unbalanced lifestyle, but you did !

I only wanted to get my petomane joke in

[teamsaint]

I only wanted to get my petomane joke in

Isn't there a thread for jokes?

[Ferretfancy]

Supposedly a quick tidy of son's room while he is at university. Clean the carpet please, it shouldn't take long.... 2 hours later said carpet cleaner is in pieces on bedroom floor as I try to work out why it isn't working...

I was given a beer mat for Christmas, featuring an industrious 1950s housewife in a neat pinny scrubbing the bath. It bore the slogan "A CLEAN HOUSE IS A SIGN OF A WASTED LIFE!"
Only one beermat ! Never mind, I lUV 'em anyway!

[Nick Armstrong]

I was given a beer mat for Christmas, featuring an industrious 1950s housewife in a neat pinny scrubbing the bath. It bore the slogan "A CLEAN HOUSE IS A SIGN OF A WASTED LIFE!"
Only one beermat ! Never mind, I lUV 'em anyway!

A sign in the kitchen at home when I was growing up said

A HOME SHOULD BE CLEAN ENOUGH TO BE HEALTHY BUT DIRTY ENOUGH TO BE HAPPY

I would tend to agree...

[Flosshilde]

I can't see the second following the first though

In my case the first followed the second Or, as I say, I didn't retire, just gave up regular paid employment.

[MrGongGong]

In my case the first followed the second Or, as I say, I didn't retire, just gave up regular paid employment.

some of us never started

[teamsaint]

"Self Unemployed" is a category not widely recognised...but I am sure this government can do something about it !

[Serial_Apologist]

All year round, up at 8.15. Listen to Morning Service on R4 while in bath, hoping in the unlikelihood of a favourite hymn from childhood or the priest will say something relevant in his/her sermon. Breakfast at 9: porridge with milk and golden syrup (at the mo), boiled egg, toast, marmalade, tea, while watching the Andrew Marr Show, followed by The Big Questions reminding me what a supercilious timewasting twerp presenter Nicky Campbell is and of how live debates on TV are designed not to find answers. Handwash weekly laundry with The Politics Show in the background - another BBC programme with an unbiassed presenter. Prepare lunch, iron and put away laundry, change bedsheets, lunch 1-2 pm with R4 news programme accompaniment, followed by some recording suitable to accompany coffee, then a brisk 1-mile circular walk at this time of year, emails and online weather check on return - maybe a 5 or 6 miler in summer so as to get back in time for the afternoon cuppa - possibly a cycle ride out to the N Downs in decent summer conditions. Phone up ex-g/f, check for emails, messages on the Forum since last night, usually taking me up to supper at 7, normally half a bag of Pistaccios and one banana, then watch telly or listen to R3 if anything worthwhile on, otherwise own recordings or a video. Back on here to re-engage or not with any debates on the Forum, R3 in background on the DAB, taking me up to bedtime at midnight.

[Lateralthinking1]

All of these contributions imply that people have a structure. For various reasons, I have to sleep when I need sleep and I tend only to eat when I really need to eat. I never know what the patterns are likely to be. In the 1970s, everything was predictable. Sunday was always the one day of the week when we had a proper fried breakfast, a roast dinner and salad for tea. And Sunday afternoon was the time when we usually drove up to London to see relatives. That timing always seemed counter-intuitive. It was comparatively quiet and half of the city was asleep. We would return home through "dangerous" Brixton just as it was pulsating atmospherically. With reggae thumping out of other cars at the traffic lights, all movement in the doorways seemed furtive.

That was the era when standing on a sixth floor balcony didn't merely consist of looking out for St Pauls and people who might be running off with the car. If we had the radio on when lights appeared in rooms from other tower blocks, there was that sense of them listening too. In that connection, there was London. Well, it had to be somewhere solid. It was not in the content of the programmes but in the invisible wavelength that existed between the tower blocks. The feeling that it also soared like a bird across the capital's high ceiling. At ground level teenagers played football in the cages allocated for such games. Strangely, they seemed free of any constraints. Perhaps in some ways they were, not needing to get good exam results. Nowhere to rise to - or dive.

Inside the flats two old ladies and a man as well as us. He was normally in bed to protest that the socialist revolution had never happened although he had also seen some shockingly depressing sights in the Burmese jungle. He rarely went out because a free bus was an insult and he hadn't been put on the planet just to rely on handouts. He mainly lived in pyjamas. His wife would be decorating, never at ease unless she had an apple in one hand and a strip of wallpaper in the other. All her hyperactivity which could have been the epitome of healthy living meant that she died unusually early. Her mother would be whispering about her journeys to the market at dawn, contrary to her daughter's instructions, and fondly reminiscing about Chaplin and Queen Victoria.

There was always a bath and a hair wash on Sunday night which is not to say that there weren't on other nights probably. Either then or a few hours earlier, it would feel like an elevator had dropped in the stomach. The realisation that it was soon to be Monday again and next four other days of being whirled on a roundabout. Two islands then, only one of which existed in the mind depending on where one happened to be pushed. The one called home seemed to be a microcosm of the world but in truth it was a corner. It was a comfortable bed to the other's boxing ring. Not that I was ever in a fight but it felt like I was by being in that environment. Now every day is a Sunday without a week and there really is only one island. The other has become wholly alien.

[Lateralthinking1]

Anyhow, depending on things:

0000 Bob Harris or Geoffrey Smith Jazz
0300 World Service or Phone-Ins
0500 Steve Allen - In Conversation
0700 Comedy on R4E or some religious thing in the background
1000 Cerys on 6 or The Archers/Desert Island Discs
1200 Radio 4 - occ Tony Blackburn soul, better still C-Span on BBC Parliament
1400 Gardeners Question Time
1500 Silence - if not throughout the day; often it is complete silence
1800 Talk and drama on R3, occ. Countryfile
2200 World Routes/Jazz on R3
0015 Laurie Taylor -Thinking Allowed, if I haven't heard it before

I listen to less classical music on Sunday than at any other time, sometimes go to a farm to buy sausages, and occasionally have a walk and a meal somewhere. I do more gardening on a Sunday than at other times and it is the day for putting the right bins out.

[rauschwerk]

To round off the day:-

Reger's charming Ballet Suite (Bavarian RSO/Colin Davis); Beethoven's cello sonata Op. 69 (Schiff/Fellner) - a great favourite; Appalachian Spring - complete ballet in the version for full orchestra (SFSO/Tilson Thomas - a wonderful performance in which MTT's love of the music is evident in every bar).

[Mary Chambers]

Coming a day late to this. I love Sundays because I can be more or less certain of an uninterrupted morning. No postman, delivery man or window-cleaner etc. knocking at the door. I've been retired for ages, but I still find Sunday quite different from any other day of the week because it's so peaceful and relaxed. I potter (very good at that), listen to Radio 3, watch television, look at what people are saying on here - but then I do that every day. I often speak to family or friends on the phone, but rarely go out.

[amateur51]

Coming a day late to this. I love Sundays because I can be more or less certain of an uninterrupted morning. No postman, delivery man or window-cleaner etc. knocking at the door. I've been retired for ages, but I still find Sunday quite different from any other day of the week because it's so peaceful and relaxed. I potter (very good at that), listen to Radio 3, watch television, look at what people are saying on here - but then I do that every day. I often speak to family or friends on the phone, but rarely go out.

Pottering is an under-appreciated art form I believe, Mary.

How I'd love to be honoured as Emeritus Professor of Pottering at the University of Life

[Nick Armstrong]

I potter

Oh so do I. A source of much contentment A weekend isn't a weekend without plenty of time to potter. A great weekend is nothing BUT pottering!