The roast is in…
I am done with summer. I am welcoming autumn with open arms. I have no expectations for autumn. I have purchased my new hunter wellies to walk in the woods, kicking the autumn leaves.
I have bought a new throw for the couch so we can wrap ourselves up as the nights draw in.
Summer be gone. You disappointed me more than Gary Barlow did when he allowed Robbie Williams back into Take That.
There are a few signs that summer is over in my house.
The heating has been sneaked on. I have stared longingly at the fire. The chiminea in the garden is already so last season.
Xfactor is back on TV – which only heralds the countdown to Christmas. Of course I only watch it because the small things beg me. I would much rather be watching some intellectual drama with subtitles.
But the ultimate sign; the great big chiming clock of autumn that marks the end of any more (dashed) hopes of crazy days in the garden is the fact the Sunday Roast is back on the menu. Every Sunday.
It’s a staple in my house, it ticks my good mum checklist (that along with pillow fights and reading with the kids) and the small things devour it like they have never eaten before. To be fair after last night’s picnic tea they could be right.
It reminds me of the good old days when I was growing up, when summers really were summer, where we played out with our mates and when a penny chew was actually a penny. *stares wistfully down a rose-tinted memory lane*
It reminds me of mum mooching (when I say mooching I actually mean cleaning and doing proper mum things) around the house with the radio on and we were playing with our Sindy dolls (Barbie’s just didn’t cut it in our house – she was too perfect). Mum was usually ironing (something you will NEVER find me doing) and singing (badly) her own made up words to songs. My favourite still is ‘The Lift is up when we are down’ to this…..http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFYtpTot7hQ
The Sunday Roast is a powerful meal – it’s the one meal in a week where I sit down with the small things and we chat. The rest of the week is usually a chaotic mess of rushed dinners, dinners without me and a couple of days with their dad.
Today, my sis in law is coming over with her (not so) small things and the roast will be the focal point of activity all afternoon.
But for now I am mooching* around the kitchen, drinking coffee, roasting potatoes, whipping up Yorkshire puds, listening to music, singing the wrong words badly while the small things play on the iPad.
Times not changed too much then.
*mooching I do not mean cleaning or ironing – that would be ridiculous.