What Polly Hudson describes as le dimanche français is almost a description of the very British Sundays of my youth (Is a French Sunday the secret to a healthier, happier life?, 23 August). Sundays were days of guilt-free relaxation. There was time to enjoy the company of family, and sometimes close friends, with no time constraints.
We enjoyed a good book (not a heavy one), an afternoon film on TV, board games, cards, or a gentle stroll for the pleasure of it rather than as part of a keep-fit regime. And let us not forget time to peruse the Sunday newspapers. Children got bored and learned how to entertain themselves, a skill today’s hard-pressed parents underestimate as they struggle to ensure Sundays are packed with activities.
There were no home computers and shops were closed, as were cinemas, swimming pools, theme parks and even pubs in certain parts of the country. This was occasionally frustrating, but more usually an advantage, removing the temptation to feel like one ought to be doing something, thus enhancing a guilt-free mindset. It was wonderful.
Importantly, it was the same day of the week for everyone. That made a difference. The whole atmosphere was quieter.
So what changed? My impression is that the whole rhythm of the week changed with Sunday trading. I’m not sure a younger generation would even recognise the phrase. Oh, were it possible to go back.
Old-fashioned Sundays were greeted with relief and the expectation of relaxation. No pressures, no guilt, time to just be. They were indeed rejuvenating – and necessary.
The economy probably couldn’t withstand the country going back to shops closing on a Sunday. Perhaps what we need is a youthful social media influencer to promote reclaiming a nationwide “old-fashioned Sunday”. No posting on Sundays though.
Siân Dudley
Ivybridge, Devon
I’m French and I was happy to read an article about the beauty of the French Sunday. But for most people I know, including myself, it’s not necessarily a day for lazing around. The beauty of it lies in the fact that it is a day when shopping is not an option because the stores are usually closed, except for bakeries in the morning. That forces people to do other things such as take a walk in the forest, play a board game or share an extended meal.
It is a day for enjoying what you have at hand rather than longing for more things that you believe will make you a happier person, but that distract you from the genuine joys of life.
I’m not in any way immune to the appeal of mass consumption, but I do enjoy being forcedly taken out of its reach by the existence of le dimanche français, which I can confirm no one calls it.
Benjamin Lescoffier
Annecy, France
I have lived in France for five years and it took a bit of getting used to French Sundays – no nipping out to the supermarket in the afternoon as they are all closed. The village boulangerie is open all day, thankfully, and the rôtisseur who sells his roast chickens from a little stall outside the bakery does brisk business – better be there early. It’s a day for visiting friends and family or entertaining, but entertaining made easy with the chicken already prepared by the rôtisseur.
Carolyn Dyer
Lézan, France
We have lived half the year in France for over 10 years. That the French cherish Sundays for relaxation is accurate, but you have omitted the major Sunday event: le déjeuner. This is typically a six-hour event beginning at midi. Families and friends gather at home or at a local restaurant to share a multicourse meal, an abundance of wine and marathon conversations.
I have marvelled at how the children sit attentively at the table, skilfully juggling utensils as each course arrives. They eat what is served for adults, and participate in the conversation like their elders. The meal is consumed slowly – leaving time in between courses to exchange news and stories.
By about 6pm, as the event closes, one need only return home for a siesta. This is why nobody does anything and nothing gets done on Sundays in France.
Kathleen Gallagher
Bainbridge Island, Washington, US
I remember the song Les enfants s’ennuient le dimanche, sung by Charles Trenet in the film L’Argent de poche by François Truffaut. It described exactly these Sundays, which at the time were not only a French phenomenon, but found in a lot of other European countries.
In Austria, where I was born and have lived for the past 65 years, that’s still the case, thank God. No open shops, maybe a lie-in, late breakfast, then lunch with wider family (grandparents, old aunts) or an outing somewhere close to home.
I also remember my grandmother tut-tutting when she saw the neighbour’s laundry still on the line on a Saturday evening.
Church is definitely not so much on the agenda. I have just come home from a lovely afternoon with my children and grandchildren, spent at the races in a spa town just outside Vienna. Oh what fun we had!
Brigitte Strohmeier-Hofer
Wiener Neustadt, Austria
