The Lord’s Day

We woke up to the smell of egg, bacon, sausage and black pudding frying.

Child Sundays were not the best of days; it was a day like no other. It was the Lord’s Day, a day of rest, but there were more arguments between man and wife and mothers laying the law down with their family, because living in cramped conditions brought out the worst in people.

We woke up to the smell of egg, bacon, sausage and black pudding frying. No one would be in the best of spirits as Sunday was a day of rest and most families had a lie in, but sadly not the old lady – she had to get up and begin to do the same old dreary chores day in and day out. To her nothing was different, it was her duty to feed all those hungry mouths and the man of the house expected her to do it (until death do us part).

This morning everyone was sitting down to their breakfast and I was handed mine – but only half an egg. “Why’ve I only got half an egg, while they have a whole egg?” “That’s because you are a little lad, but when you become a big lad, you will get a whole egg like the rest of them.”

“But you said last night I was a big lad when I went downstairs for a bucket of coal…to the coalhouse…out in the backyard…in the dark…you told me I was a brave lad.” “That’s right, but not brave enough to get a whole egg, now eat your breakfast and stop your moaning, otherwise I’ll give it to the cat.”

“It isn’t fair” – this said with your bottom lip quivering. But this is fatal, you should never say life isn’t fair, because it’s like waving a red rag in front of a bull. Sunday morning everyone is tensed up, more so the lady of the house. Suddenly a figure approaches you and whatever they are holding in their hand at the time will be pointed at you, almost touching your nose end and a voice will say: “The sooner you realise my lad, that life isn’t fair, the better it will be for everyone…do you hear what I’m saying?” “Yes ma!” “Good, now wipe your nose and stop your snivelling!”

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