Self-Winding · A Sort of Progression

As I'm reminiscing about childhood, I looked out a cutting showing exactly what I remember of the 5th February, 1953 the day sweets came off the ration. I think I got toffees. I cut this photo out of a newspaper years ago; it perfectly catches the moment of excitement and looks exactly like the shop next door where I joined the queue.

I was recently taken for lunch at at a posh pub - gastro I suppose - out in the Suffolk sticks; the dining room was full and fate placed us next to a well-dressed family with two children aged about eleven and twelve. The pantomime that ensued totally overshadowed our own meal. Loud argument about the menu was followed by a scattering of cutlery and napkins to the floor, the flower vase was overturned and the girl child started to snivel and act up.

When some sort of savoury tarts arrived, the soft contents were removed by means of fingers to mouths, the pastry cases were placed on the cloth for the waitress to remove. New forks were provided for pasta Bolognese. Starving piggies at trough could have given that family a lesson in tidy eating and the table would not have disgraced Sweeney Todd's kitchen when they finished. Finally, they chose puddings that they didn't like (£5.99), so the kids grizzled till they got ice cream instead. The parents said nothing, the staff said nothing and I, as a guest, said nothing about the outrageous manners that had troubled us all. The children will never learn. This happens often now.

I was thinking how my Mum would have handled me if I had ventured but one of their horrors. There would have been no pudding and sharp instructions to behave or leave the table (she would have left it herself to make the point). Much would have been said on arriving home.
Mum was big on manners. Left on her own, she had little money to spare, but I was sometimes taken, very young, to the wonderful Lyon's Corner House, Marble Arch - style on a budget. We would have just beans on toast or poached egg, partly as a treat and partly to learn about eating out. We'd be served by a nippy with the full silver service! The tea was in a silver teapot and china cups, the napiery was white linen. An orchestra played, there was a buzz of conversation, a heady scent of mayonnaise and cakes and strawberries in the air. I felt grand and acted grand in response and I never forgot. Perhaps Jamie Oliver could tackle some ambience training and basic table manners for kids next?

I have two rather sweet pictures of the childhood me at Lyon's. Aged about six, I must have got my hands sticky eating a cake and called the waitress as she passed. I asked politely if she could please bring the dishcloth for me to wipe my hands. Mum said she was kind and brought a white cloth; they both had a good laugh as I cleaned up.

Another time I was fascinated by an American soldier eating a waffle and syrup at the next table, I had never seen one before. Apparently I kept glancing at his plate until, amused, he called me over, asked me to sit down and cut a piece for me to try. Apparently I stayed and chatted and managed to eat the rest of his waffle. Nice guy.

"John Arbuthnot "Jackie" Fisher sailed the seven seas in the late Victorian and Edwardian eras. He's considered a forgotten hero of naval history....he was a big reformer and chairman of the committee that commissioned the groundbreaking battleship Dreadnought. Jackie Fisher is said to be the originator of the belligerent gem: "Never explain, never apologise." (The Register)

Let it suffice to say that my absence has been down to both me and my PC being really poorly. My subsequent lassitude stretched out the silence. I think I'm back now.