Michael Hogan 

Sunday with Kit de Waal: ‘Growing up, it was the worst day of the week’

The author reflects on Yorkshire tea, toast and jam, and tinkly Chopin in the bath
  
  

‘The ambient sound of about 30 fairly ancient church-goers singing beautifully drifts through the wall…’ Kit de Waal.
‘The ambient sound of about 30 fairly ancient church-goers singing beautifully drifts through the wall…’ Kit de Waal. Photograph: Gary Doak/Alamy

Wake-up time? I’ll lie in until 10am, when I’m woken by the sunlight coming through my slightly ill-fitting yet beautiful designer blinds. Then I’ll sit in my favourite seat and sip Yorkshire tea while I slowly come to.

Sunday breakfast? Just toast with salted butter and jam. Occasionally, my son, who’s 22, will ring and suggest meeting at the greasy spoon. He’ll have the mega-breakfast, which he wants me to pay for obviously. I’ll have poached eggs on toast while I listen to his nonsense.

Sunday listening? I live next door to a Christadelphian church; at 10.30am their service starts with hymns. The ambient sound of about 30 fairly ancient church-goers singing beautifully drifts through the wall. They had trouble selling this flat because of the noise, but it’s a plus for me. I’m not a fan of organised religion, but do adore a good hymn.

Sunday chores? God, no. I might take a short stroll to get the Sunday papers. I’ll read them cover-to-cover until there’s nothing left and I’m looking at the FTSE Index or cricket scores.

Shower or bath? Before bed, I’ll have a deep bath while listening to Chopin or something else tinkly and gentle. I’ll put in a few drops of lavender, maybe some magnesium salts. The bath will be too hot and make me sweat, thereby negating any benefits of getting clean.

Sundays growing up? The worst day of the week. My mother was a Jehovah’s Witness, so we had to go to the equivalent of church, called a meeting. It went on for two hours and was quite far away. When we got home, there might be dinner, but no guarantees. I hated Sundays. The only thing I loved was if my father was in – we’d sit with him and watch the films I still love.

Bedtime? Never before midnight. I have to go to bed when the world is still and quiet, not when things are happening. It probably needs the attention of a psychiatrist. I’ll listen to this wise podcast called The Daily Stoic, which puts nice thoughts in my brain as I drift off at 2am.

Kit de Waal’s memoir, Without Warning & Only Sometimes, is out on 18 August (£13.59, Tinder Press). She is a co-founder of primadonnafestival.com and is appearing at this year’s event on 29–31 July

 

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