Sunday was a miserable day. As totally non-thinking Presbyterians, it was a case of "Remember the sabbath day ... etc.. " No work, no noise, no drying clothes, dragged off to the kirk for a bit of fire and brimstone. I hated Sundays. The only relief was that the golf club bar was open - but that's when I was older and rejected religion.
On that note, do you know about "Sunday sticks"? These were walking sticks shaped like golf clubs, so that golfers could have a few practice shots on Sunday without anyone noticing.