What Sunday Dinners Mean to Me by Nick Spalding, Ian Moore & Heather Hill

Nick Spalding, Ian Moore and Heather Hill

 

Nick Spalding – Nick Spalding is the author of the bestselling ‘Love’ series of novels, Fat Chance and his latest, Bricking It.

 

The greatest tragedy of the Sunday roast is that technically you can only eat it one day a week. Oh sure, you can have Tuesday roast, but it’s just not quite the same thing, is it? There’s something about a lazy Sunday that lends itself to a mountain of crispy potatoes, pork crackling and butter smeared veggies. Perhaps it’s the fact that you need the rest of the day to recover from climbing said mountain. I’m fairly sure the Christians only decided that Sunday was the official day of rest so they could munch their way through a giant Yorkshire pudding without fear of having to do anything energetic afterwards.

 

Ian Moore – Ian Moore is a stand-up comedian, author, and Brit living in France, as chronicled in his books, A la Mod: My so-called Tranquil Family Life in Rural France, and, C’est Modnifique!: Adventures of an English Grump in Rural France.

 

Sundays Will Never Be The Same.

 

“What’s up?” I asked Dad. He looked ashen-white, like he’d been suddenly hit with a massive shock. “What’s happened?” I asked again quickly, when he seemed unable to speak.

He shook his head, speechless, and in his eyes there was a deep sadness. Whatever it was had left him bereft, apparently grief-stricken.

“It’s my mum, your nan.” He said slowly, trying to gather himself.

“What?” I was frantic now, what could have happened? What had I missed? “But you’ve just come from there? Is she ok?”

“She’s fine.” He said, with no apparent relief or happiness.

“What then?”

“She…I can’t believe it. She taught me how to make them, she’s never done this before. I can’t believe it.” He was shaking his head some more, a little boy again confused by a world he wasn’t prepared for.

“For God’s sakes what?!”

He looked up, angry almost, on the verge of tears. “She used FROZEN Yorkshire puddings!” He shouted.

I sat down next to him and put my arm around his shoulder. It was now up to us alone it seemed to keep the family recipe going.

Ian Moore

 

Heather Hill – comedy writer and Mum of five (not the band), and author of bestselling romantic comedy, The New Mrs D.

 

For me, the best thing about Sunday Dinners is that, for that one day in the week, all of the grown and flown children come back home. No wait, that’s the worst thing…

Sunday at our house is actually a pretty unique experience. For one thing, we live on a farm road in the countryside with fields full of sheep all around, so eating roast lamb with guilt-inducing sound effects does kind of ruin the whole experience. It’s enough to make me want to try the nut roast alternative, but the mere mention of it makes my husband nervous, especially if I’m edging towards the flame-thrower at the time. (All families have flame-throwers, right?)

For another thing, I have five children and now the older ones have partners, I’ve lost count of the amount of times we’ve had to bring garden furniture indoors to extend one end of the table and add the breakfast bar at the other side. The tables look fine because you can cover them in a pretty cloth, but it’s hard to disguise the fact that the people sat at the breakfast bar are up in the air on high stools, and the people sat at the garden table end keep losing the salt shaker down the umbrella hole in the middle. But the garden chairs are superb for entertainment value. One minute you can be sat feeling peeved that there are too many people for cake seconds and the next you get treated to a spot of Morris Dancing from the kids, before finding yourself completely alone in the room so you can help yourself to all of it.

I really should clean the spiders off those chairs before I bring them in.

Terrific times. Why can’t every day be Sunday?

Heather Hill

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