What do Sunday's mean to you? What is the first image in your mind when you see the word Sunday? Or someone says the word Sunday?
Putting on your Sunday best and heading off to Church?
Maybe it's not even an image that is conjured up for you... maybe it's a smell...
The traditional Sunday roast. Beef, roast potatoes, stuffing, parsnips, carrots, peas, broccoli, brussell sprouts, cauliflower cheese, Yorkshire puddings and, of course, thick, meaty gravy covering the lot!
Then a brisk walk to burn off some of the calories?
Or maybe it's watching Match of the Day?
Pretending not to be paying any attention while your Dad and brother watch the footy.
Yawning away as you flick the pages of your magazine. Definitely not showing any interest in the muscled sweaty thighs, firm buttocks and flowing hair (well, in the Lineker and Hoddle days... and let's not forget there's only one Chrissy Waddle *sigh*)
Or it could be an image as simple as the last one...
Granddad and Uncle Bert (these ones aren't mine, but close enough) snoring in their chairs, top button undone to relieve their widening girth after those four extra Yorkshires they managed to talk your Nan into making.
But somehow they always managed to wake again just as dessert was being served.... uncanny.
Sundays for me are probably a mixture of all of these things and more. Homework, long soak in the bath and hair wash before school the following day and the Antique's Roadshow before bed. Not a care in the world, except whether or not David Smith was going to notice me in maths.
Now I'm the one cooking the roast and doing the washing up and I wonder what will be my children's first thought when someone says the word... Sunday? How about you?