Pyjama Sundays

How acceptable is it to eat your Sunday dinner in your pyjamas? Do other folks eat Sunday dinner in their pyjamas? Does it sound better if I call them lounge wear? These are questions which have been mulling around my brain for some time. Sunday is supposedly a day of rest and relaxation. Sitting in bed until late morning, sipping coffee whilst scrolling through social media or playing the latest game; occasionally glancing at the news headlines; whilst Paul potters around downstairs. The best bit about Sundays, though, used to be not feeling guilty about staying in my pyjamas and dressing gown all day; unless we were off out; and lazing around the house doing sod all. Back then we didn’t always have a Sunday dinner, particularly through the summer months, and when we did it wasn’t always a roast dinner.

Then, in 2019, everything changed. Kate and her son moved in with us for a couple of months. Then Netti got herself a job working weekend night shifts so we had her three offspring every weekend as well. Which meant a big family gathering every Sunday with a full Monty dinner of roast meat, mashed potatoes, roast potatoes, roast parsnips, at least three veg; well, we have to cater for all our likes and dislikes; and the appropriate side dishes; stuffing and apple sauce with pork, stuffing and bread sauce with chicken and good old Yorkshire pudding with beef. Although there are some in the family who will argue that whatever you have it’s not a Sunday dinner without Yorkshire pudding. And since we were going the whole hog, as it were, I started making puddings, my first attempt being a peach cobbler which, to this day, remains a firm favourite. In fact the first thing any of the grandkids ask as they come through the door each Sunday is: “What’s for pudding, Granny?” So I now have my work cut out, not only in cooking dinner but coming up with a pudding to boot! Even after Kate and Harvey moved into their new home they continued to come round for Sunday lunch for a few more months and, four years on, we are still cooking for Netti and her three, despite them not staying over anymore now she’s on day shifts. Don’t get me wrong, I love these big family dinners and really miss it when the kids have other plans but it put paid to my quiet, relaxed Sundays. They are definitely a thing of the past but do I really have to give up pyjama Sundays as well?

I always felt I had to get dressed before going down to start on dinner, it felt decidedly wrong to be cooking in my nightclothes; a throwback, perhaps, to my childhood where staying in your nightwear meant you were poorly, sick and dying, not just having a lazy day; but I seemed to be the only one making this effort. Even through those infernal pandemic years I always got dressed when everyone else stopped bothering. The kids always spent the whole weekend in their pyjamas and I could hardly insist Netti got dressed when she’d only just rolled out of bed after her night shift. Not to mention Paul, who currently eats, sleeps and taxis everyone around wearing his “lounging” shorts! Then, one morning a few weeks ago, choosing what to wear seemed such an effort, which is when I decided I couldn’t be bothered with the hassle any longer and opted to stay in my pyjamas. I did put a hoodie on as it felt a little more appropriate and neither did I want my dressing gown to smell of cooking. I must admit, it still feels a little odd sitting at a fully laid table, complete with serving dishes, and eating a Sunday roast dinner whilst wearing my pyjamas, but I have slowly got used to the idea. Which means that although I might have a busy day ahead at least I no longer have to worry about what to wear. Pyjama Sundays are back.