Lazing on a Sunday afternoon. Spending a lazy Sunday afternoon is a pleasure to be savoured. I’m not going to try to spell out the philosophical basis for this. There may be health benefits, but I am not going to try to put those forward. Simply, lazing about on a Sunday afternoon feels good. I kicked off my shoes after church and hunkered down in a sofa. My ladies took themselves off to a nail salon. Whatever works for you.
My first-born had mentioned on Saturday evening that she would be spending her Sunday ‘doing chores’. When she came by on Sunday evening to baby sit her little sister, we asked how the chores had gone. “They didn’t,” she replied with a little smile, “I spent the day lazing around.” I did not see her face, so could not check if there was a glint of guilt in her eyes. If there had been, then I would have had to tell her to just pull up a blanket and come cuddle up with me on the sofa. Or, she could take a lesson from one of her beloved animals, the cat, who have perfected lazing so that it’s an everyday pastime, not something just left for Sundays.
Caribbean people have long been true believers of lazy Sunday afternoons. For them, that may come from an excess of party activity on Saturdays; or a long morning spent in church; or the hours spent preparing Sunday lunch; or the effect of eating that very same lunch. Postprandial torpor certainly kicks in quickly once the heat hits you, after a second plate of fried fish, roast lamb, plantains, rice and peas, and a rum punch–with due apologies to my friends who have decided to give up animal products and/or alcohol for Lent 🙂
Once upon a time, I was glad to spend the early part of Sunday afternoons lazing in a pub garden. Kicking back with a pint (or few) and perhaps a good pub lunch is hard to beat. But, it could easily be pleasant if, as a child, you get to watch the parents do that while you get a glass of lemonade and a bag of crisps (Americans read ‘chips’). Loverly! Running around and playing tag; hiding under the tables; jumping up on an adult’s knee; falling asleep on the grass. All work. I’m a man who loved his local brewery, Fullers in Chiswick. The sight and sounds of a Sunday by the Thames flow back to me vividly.
I suspect that a good few people did not relax during this past Sunday: the Oscar nominees, perhaps. Those playing in that crazy match play golf tournament near Tuscon, which had its start delayed by snow on Wednesday, then proceeded to try to complete its semis and finals on Sunday in howling winds and bitter cold.
I think back to that silly song by The Small Faces and their video, which looks like it really was filmed on a Sunday afternoon
I drive my family into their Monday activities and look at the faces in adjacent cars, at bus stops, of those walking hurriedly somewhere. Sun is shining, though it’s cold. Faces look cold, without much sign of sunshine. Not sure if many had their dose of laziness on Sunday.