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Sundae · 08-09-2008, 11:46 AM

My experience of mealtime ettiquette is pretty similar to Ali's. We all sat down together for dinner, every night. The idea of someone being late for dinner was like deciding to spend the night at school and not come home - it was simply too wrong to be considered. Dad used to whistle for us when dinner was ready - an affectation in such a small house, but we were always taught never to shout to eachother if we wanted something, so it worked.

We only ever had napkins at Christmas and Easter, but in that we didn't differ from anyone else in our social class. It was quite acceptable to ask for kitchen towels if you were getting in a mess - certainly more polite than wiping your mouth on your hands or your hands on your clothes.

All dinners were sit-down knife and fork affairs. Saturday lunch was always burger, chips and beans. The burger could be picked up in its bun, but not the chips (or the beans!)

Sunday lunch was as Ali described. Everything out on the table, make your own. This extended to deciding to have cheese on toast instead of a sandwich, even though you were up and cooking while other people were eating.

Dinner was always plated and you could reach over the table for anything you wanted because it was only condiments after all, and on a small table. I learned to ask for things to be passed at friends' houses. You had to ask for permission to leave the table - it was usually granted if you'd finished eating, especially to me as I made mealtimes a misery by complaining about my brother's eating habits. He was a picky eater - to the point he barely ate - so Mum gave him more leeway on certain manners. Like eating mouth-closed and quietly - she was just grateful he was eating at all. I hated it, thought it was unfair and disgusting and said so frequently. In fact I remember leaving the Christmas dinner table early when I was 14 (in tears and WITHOUT PERMISSION!) to go and phone my friend from a callbox because of a row over my brother's eating habits. Funny I've just thought of that. I also used to get up at 06.30 just so I didn't have to sit with him at breakfast - he took about an hour to eat it and it was the only meal of the day he enjoyed.

Anyway. We always had to eat everything on our plates. Even Stevo, although his was tailored to the things he would eat. I only remember one time I really couldn't eat what I was served. I had corned beef hash for the first time and took against it for no good reason. I felt a sneeze coming on, but Mum thought the face I was pulling was me working myself up to be sick and she slapped me out of the room. I then cried til I retched, probably proving her point. Anyway, at tea, Mum had gone to work and Dad had instructions to serve me my leftover lunch. By then I was quite cheerful, VERY hungry, and enjoyed it immensely. In hindsight I feel sorry for Mum, as all it really took was Dad serving it to me for me to decide it was the best meal ever.

08-09-2008, 11:46 AM	#8
Sundae polaroid of perfection Join Date: Sep 2005 Location: West Yorkshire Posts: 24,185	My experience of mealtime ettiquette is pretty similar to Ali's. We all sat down together for dinner, every night. The idea of someone being late for dinner was like deciding to spend the night at school and not come home - it was simply too wrong to be considered. Dad used to whistle for us when dinner was ready - an affectation in such a small house, but we were always taught never to shout to eachother if we wanted something, so it worked. We only ever had napkins at Christmas and Easter, but in that we didn't differ from anyone else in our social class. It was quite acceptable to ask for kitchen towels if you were getting in a mess - certainly more polite than wiping your mouth on your hands or your hands on your clothes. All dinners were sit-down knife and fork affairs. Saturday lunch was always burger, chips and beans. The burger could be picked up in its bun, but not the chips (or the beans!) Sunday lunch was as Ali described. Everything out on the table, make your own. This extended to deciding to have cheese on toast instead of a sandwich, even though you were up and cooking while other people were eating. Dinner was always plated and you could reach over the table for anything you wanted because it was only condiments after all, and on a small table. I learned to ask for things to be passed at friends' houses. You had to ask for permission to leave the table - it was usually granted if you'd finished eating, especially to me as I made mealtimes a misery by complaining about my brother's eating habits. He was a picky eater - to the point he barely ate - so Mum gave him more leeway on certain manners. Like eating mouth-closed and quietly - she was just grateful he was eating at all. I hated it, thought it was unfair and disgusting and said so frequently. In fact I remember leaving the Christmas dinner table early when I was 14 (in tears and WITHOUT PERMISSION!) to go and phone my friend from a callbox because of a row over my brother's eating habits. Funny I've just thought of that. I also used to get up at 06.30 just so I didn't have to sit with him at breakfast - he took about an hour to eat it and it was the only meal of the day he enjoyed. Anyway. We always had to eat everything on our plates. Even Stevo, although his was tailored to the things he would eat. I only remember one time I really couldn't eat what I was served. I had corned beef hash for the first time and took against it for no good reason. I felt a sneeze coming on, but Mum thought the face I was pulling was me working myself up to be sick and she slapped me out of the room. I then cried til I retched, probably proving her point. Anyway, at tea, Mum had gone to work and Dad had instructions to serve me my leftover lunch. By then I was quite cheerful, VERY hungry, and enjoyed it immensely. In hindsight I feel sorry for Mum, as all it really took was Dad serving it to me for me to decide it was the best meal ever.