I scream for dessert

I smile inwardly today when I see how children are indulged and tolerated at the dinner table. They get colouring books, balloons, their own menus – the lot. Back in the late 50s, when I was growing up, we only got a stern warning to behave ourselves and woe betide us if we didn’t!

One particular memory springs to mind in this regard. My mum and my aunt took our respective families out for lunch at a local tea room. There were six of us altogether, with my elder brother (he was eight, I was six at the time) and my aunt’s rather older two girls, who I’d say were about 11 and nine respectively.

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