Of salt and table manners

"Images flashed across his mind – a table laid for dinner and a chubby toddler sitting across from him in a wooden high-chair burying his fists into a bowl of strawberries and cream while the grown-ups laughed."

Some words from an unpublished story written by my mother, who was never excited about table manners. She approved of reading while eating, and even licking the remains of some delicious sauce from the plate.

Her parents in law, my grandparents, were the ones I recall teaching me table manners. Elbows not on the table. My grandfather told me that when he had been younger, those responsible for him had threatened to bash his elbows on the table, and, if he continued to offend, made good the threat.

Granny told us of her school in Eastbourne, Moira House ("Mo Ho"), which closed in 2020, where, if they wanted the salt, were taught to say: "Pass the cruet".

My father didn't encourage this particular piece of ridiculousness but did not like it when his sons said curtly "Salt please" instead. His biggest bugbear, though, was people eating with their mouths full. I recall in that rather bleak post-Christmas period - this would have been in 1983, so almost forty years ago - my mother cooked some brussels sprouts which she had forgotten to take to her parents-in-law for Christmas lunch. I was not fond of brussels sprouts at the best of times, and was sent away from the table for the sin of eating with my mouth full: now had we been eating steak ...

Then there were table manners at school. The PE teacher once sent me sent away from the table in a café in Bourton-on-the-Water of all places. My crime - unconsciously performed - had been tipping vinegar into my hand and consuming it.

One of the teachers took a group of pupils to his house and we ended up in the kitchen where I found the spice cupboard. I was fascinated by the meat tenderiser and longed to try it. My mother warned me off the stuff on another occasion: "It melts meat. Your tongue is made of meat."

On another occasion, the Geography teacher forced me to eat a slice of cake after I had pulled off a bit of the icing. A curious punishment indeed. But I felt duly humiliated. I hadn't even supposed to have had tea at school that day, having been taken out by my father.

Finally, I recall the occasion when I spilt salt at school - a whole pot of it on to the table. "Very silly" said the Headmaster with displeasure. After I had cleared it up using a dustpan and brush, I was told: "You've ruined that brush."