Sunday lunch back then
Mum steamed up
in the kitchen,
her four sons steamed up
down the pub.
Supposed to be home by one,
we usually roared in late.
Whole family round the table.
A roast with three veg and gravy,
followed by pudding and custard.
Mountains of dirty pots and pans,
crockery and cutlery in the sink.
Our job. How we moaned!
Lovely memory, I wonder if such Sunday lunches still happen? My husband used to go to his Nan’s in Liverpool for Sunday lunch and nothing could be left. If he didn’t finish his food, his pudding would be placed on the same plate, gravy and all!
Yes, a lovely memory. Stanza 1 is especially good.
I think I’d be inclined to end it:
Our job. How we moaned.
The title tells us it’s ‘pre-dishwasher’ and the whole tone of the poem tells us you ‘appreciate it now’.
I agree with Robbie – we are right there with you and we all feel the same so there is no need to say the last line.
Really like the “steaming” in the first stanza.
Yes, Sarah (L) – Those were the days!
Good points, Robbie & Sarah (D) – see my amendments!