It’s Sunday, and the sun is shining, the sounds that abound remind me of Sundays past. Young lads working on their pride and joy cars, the sounds and smells wafting over of Sunday roast being cooked and the faraway sound of a dog barking it’s joyfulness as it’s being walked (or should that be walking it’s owner) Birds flitting to the bird feeder, keeping a watchful eye on the cats dozing in a sun trapped corner of the garden.
And apparently I have been on WordPress for 9 years, yes NINE years.
In this time I have done many things, and some are on my still to do list……. ( I don’t call it a bucket list) I like to do things at my own pace. Sometimes it’s slower than others. I like to march to the beat of my own drum so to speak. ( or stroll)
I like to take the time to look around me. First this morning I drew back the curtain onto my garden to see next doors cat, oblivious to every thing around him just rolling about in the sun bleached grass, enjoying the early morning sunshine, which for an eighteen year old cat is pretty good going.
After a few minutes he decided to act his age and have a snooze
Only it’s Bank Holiday Monday. The only sounds heard are the wood pigeons calling out to each other. The roar of a car engine momentarily shatters the peace. The car speeds by, the occupant apologetic. It feels like a Sunday even though the refuse truck has been and gone. No Bank Holiday for them. It feels quintessentially British. A throw back to the television shows from the sixties that I would watch endlessly as I grew up. Any minute now John Steed and Emma Peel would appear, roll opening credits……
It feels earlier than it is, the sun is still hiding behind low cloud, perhaps hiding in a game of hide and seek that only its playing.
There is a stillness in the air, it still feels like it should be Sunday…..
It’s Sunday. Growing up in my household, it was always the day when not much happened. It was the day when cars were washed (by hand) Usually by me to earn a little bit of extra pocket-money. Newsagents opened for a few hours. Definitely closed by 1pm. Teenagers worked on their bicycles or if they were old enough on their first car. You could smell the roast dinners cooking in each household. One of our neighbours would always pass over the fence the chicken giblets for our cats to eat (we had three)
One of our cats loved cooked chicken so much so she would sit down in front of the oven as it cooked!
Once lunch was finished, the afternoon was usually the time for a trip around garden centres and DIY stores. I never really enjoyed these trips as a youngster as I suffered with hay-fever and was allergic to a lot of things contained within them. We often would go out for a ‘drive’ to nowhere in particular.
I wasn’t to know that years later these little trips around Bedfordshire would be a great help in my working life right up to the present.
One of the places we would go to was right on our door step so to speak. Bedford River. The Great Ouse.
The view from ‘The County Bridge’ better known as Prebend Street Bridge.
The view facing the Town Bridge
The view of the Town Bridge from the opposite direction