The travails of Sunday
TOWN MOUSE goes to press first thing on Monday, so, human nature being what it is, I generally end up thinking about what I might write on Sunday afternoon and then doing the work after dinner. This habit has unexpectedly come to shape family discourse. I first realised this when the children started pitching ideas for the column on Sunday evening: political events or the imagined adventures of a favourite toy (both of which show that they think it’s much more exciting than it really is). More recently, when I lost my temper on a Sunday, I was consoled with the words ‘Don’t worry, you can write a Town Mouse about it’.
Now, the column has become a bargaining chip, too. I don’t know whether the children ever believed the assertion that ice-cream vans only play tunes to warn children that they’re empty. Whatever the case, it’s now quite complicated getting past them without negotiation. Following a recent Sunday-afternoon picnic, it was suggested that ‘if you buy us ice creams, you could write a Town Mouse about it’. Unknown to the children, things are about to change. Henceforth, the printers need my Town Mouse copy on Friday. Sundays will never be the same again. JG