When I was growing up, Sunday lunch was my favorite time as a child. We would have a big Sunday English meal, and we would argue about things.
We're the kind of family that gets together for Sunday lunch. I see my younger sister all the time.
I've only been a mom for not even two years yet, so I haven't had much of a chance. But boy do I wish I could have lunch with my girlfriends in the middle of the afternoon. I don't remember the last time I had lunch in the afternoon with my girlfriends.
It is Sunday, mid-morning-Sunday in the living room, Sunday in the kitchen, Sunday in the woodshed, Sunday down the road in the village: I hear the bells, calling me to share God's grace.
Sunday lunch is always pretty social.
I came home every Friday afternoon, riding the six miles on the back of a big mule. I spent Saturday and Sunday washing and ironing and cooking for the children and went back to my country school on Sunday afternoon.
I save everything up until Sunday night because if I start sending emails on Saturday afternoon, then people have to start responding to me on Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning.
We're a really close family. And actually, we see each other and speak on the phone all the time... the odd Sunday lunch, or pop in for coffee or something like that.
It was a Sunday afternoon, wet and cheerless; and a duller spectacle this earth of ours has not to show than a rainy Sunday in London.
The most important ingredient of Sunday lunch is the conversation. Without that, it's dead and gone.
Let's be honest, we all love a roast, but Sunday lunch could be a huge plate of salade nicoise; it could be eggs benedict; it could be a barbecue. The important thing is you're making an effort, and you're all together.
All my kids are great, because of my mother. Every Sunday, we're over there at my parents' place for lunch.
I never missed a Sunday lunch growing up and I've continued that tradition with my own family.
I get to have Sunday lunch at my mum's, pick my nephew up from school now and then: it's a very normal life.
Isolation among older people is a massive problem, and my grandad used to come round for Sunday lunch every week for as long as I can remember.
We had poverty in our house. Even on the council estate I knew I was one of the poorer kids. I used to go round my friends houses on a Sunday to get their Sunday dinner because my mum couldn't cook either so I used to love going round my mates and say: 'Can you ask your Mum if I can come in for Sunday dinner?'