If it’s Sunday it can mean only one thing – a roast lunch.
Even during the warmer summer months it has to be roast at lunchtime – not in the evening when I would normally eat a main meal.
As a child, my mother would always cook a lunch and as I became an adult that tradition never ceased – in fact it grew, rather like my belly!
Even today I will have a roast lunch – and look forward to it. And what of the days when other plans mean it’s not a roast? The excitement of doing something is always tinged with the disappointment of that roast not being enjoyed. The meal – the food and the company – is as part of my life as my DNA.