Sunday
roast, back in the day, would bring an unnatural amount of condensation to the
kitchen window. We could never really tell if it was the cooking that made the
day look grey and dull outside, or if it was the steam from the potatoes boiling
before they were roasted.
Dinner
on Sunday was always a big thing, Mam would spend hours slaving way. Peeling
Potatoes, Washing the vegetables, slicing the meat. Dad would come in from Golf
and maybe read the paper, or go our and do a bit in the Garage. All the brothers
would mingle around the house like lost souls. Drifting from one room to another
as they waited to be fed.
After
dinner we would go and see Nana & Lala. My fathers parents.As they were getting older, they no longer drove into Wicklow with
(Under Construction)
