Martel

Maxwell Not quite The Waltons, but we were very close

AH, is there anything better than a Sunday roast?

Granted, a trip to Mallorca/ the pub/lovely cafe might surpass the humble roast – but for now, small pleasures are all we have and I was excited. Then it hit me.

Unpacking the shopping bags, I’d forgotten a key element – Yorkshire puddings. Trivial? I’m not so sure.

With a wee puddle of gravy in the middle, it’s one of the highlights of the dish (we were having chicken, along with crispy skin, roasties and veg).

So, for the first time ever

(it’s not something I’d even contemplated), I made some from scratch.

It’s not a boast (well it is a wee bit) – I’m as surprised as you – but it turns out all you need is plain flour and eggs and they were rather tasty.

If I told you we played a family game of Monopoly before said roast, I’d be sounding like our family is actually the Waltons.

It’s probably the two key facts someone with a perfect kind of Instagram or Facebook page would post: “Hey guys, sun’s out and we’re having a gorgeous ‘family Sunday’ with board games and a roast. What you up to?”

And you’d think “oh, do jog on. I’m slightly bored, slightly down and slightly needing a wee, that’s what I’m up to, but thanks for making me feel like a loser”.

I wouldn’t post anything so misleading – for in between these wholesome pursuits, there were hours of screen time per child.

There were tears and snotters over Monopoly (not just mine) and when it did come to the roast, the youngest would only eat upside down on his chair with legs akimbo, while having morsels spooned into his mouth – and being blackmailed with threats of no pudding if he didn’t sit up like a good boy.

It wasn’t entirely relaxing. After the full roast with all the trimmings, we had sticky toffee pudding (homemade

. . . by Tesco) with cream and ice cream (don’t judge). A lot of food. I was ‘glaikit’ with the calorie intake.

Monty, 7, then asked if he could have some of the chocolate-covered rice cakes.

I envy their metabolisms – but then realise they never stop moving. Chester, 6, likes his food so much he dances when he eats something he likes – which is everything.

Dancing while eating – someone’s bound to come up with it on YouTube soon. Maybe Joe Wicks.

Time for bed and there was only one thing left to say.

“Good night, Daddy. Good night, Mama. Good night, Jim Bob. Good night, John Boy.

(For anyone under the age of 35, it’s something like the quote that ended every episode of The Waltons. Don’t worry, you can catch it on YouTube.)

The Walton family always seemed to live in perfect harmony.