And I was thinking back to when I were a girl of maybe 10 or 12 and Sunday afternoons were spent watching the film on television, usually a musical or cowboy. Everyone, even hard-working granny, sat down on a Sunday afternoon and relaxed. We don't do that any more. Oh we walk George of a Sunday afternoon and that's very lovely but to sit down in the middle of the day and watch a film - when you're not ill - is an unheard-of luxury.
I'd planned the roast for tomorrow but found out that Younger Son and Fiancée won't be here then so decided to have it today. It turned out Fiancée was working so it was just the three of us anyway. Younger Son was miserably silent, depressed because he's failing to find employment to support himself when he begins his PhD. I tried to get him to take a more positive attitude while Husband sat and chomped down his dinner.
At the end, of what I have to say was a very nice Sunday roast, did Husband say, 'Yum, that was nice, dear'? Did he heckaslike. He said, 'That was too much.'
'You didn't have to eat it all.'
'I did if it was on my plate. It's your fault for giving me too much.'
Just wait. When YS and Fiancée move out we'll be living on beans on toast; then he'll be sorry.
3 comments:
Oooh, Liz - be careful with the beans on toast. You'll be sorry, too, if Hubby eats too many beans!
Haha! Keep us posted on his reaction to that!
I think George must have been on the beans today too, dragonstar!
I will, welshcakes.
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