The Skeleton Cupboard
“Before the days of video games, American-style bowling alleys and shopping malls that stuck it to any Christian notion of a day of rest and reflection, Sundays were bloody boring.
My Sundays were often spent wandering aimlessly around the house. My grandmother would be watching wrestling—not that she was a particular fan, but there were only three channels in those days. At some point Mum would tell me to tidy my room or help with the gardening or write in my diary.
My mother was a stickler for... a daily diary entry—a reflection on the day: what we had learned, what we could improve on—and every entry had to be finished with the phrase “Tomorrow I must try harder.”
Boredom was the Sunday curse of the 1970s childhood. It was elevated into despair by the realization that the next morning meant the end of the weekend and school would resume for another five days.
Having left the GP practice, I was about, yet again, to change gears and was preparing for my next six-month training placement.MoreLess
My Sundays were often spent wandering aimlessly around the house. My grandmother would be watching wrestling—not that she was a particular fan, but there were only three channels in those days. At some point Mum would tell me to tidy my room or help with the gardening or write in my diary.
My mother was a stickler for... a daily diary entry—a reflection on the day: what we had learned, what we could improve on—and every entry had to be finished with the phrase “Tomorrow I must try harder.”
Boredom was the Sunday curse of the 1970s childhood. It was elevated into despair by the realization that the next morning meant the end of the weekend and school would resume for another five days.
Having left the GP practice, I was about, yet again, to change gears and was preparing for my next six-month training placement.MoreLess
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