School dinner ladies occupied a peculiar position in the childhood world.
They were not teachers, yet during the lunch hour they were definitely in charge.
My earliest experience of school dinners was not encouraging. Normally I went home for lunch, but on one occasion my parents were attending my uncle’s funeral and I had to remain at school.
I remember being presented with potatoes and beetroot.
There is nothing particularly wrong with either vegetable, but at the time I decided they made a thoroughly unappealing combination. The dinner lady insisted that I finish what was on my plate, and I went home convinced that school dinners were dreadful things best avoided.
Eventually, however, I realised that going home every lunchtime meant missing valuable time with my friends.
So, armed with a packed lunch, I began staying at school.
The dinner ladies who supervised the playground were generally popular, particularly with the girls. There always seemed to be a little group gathered around them, chatting away.
There was one rather stern lady whom everybody tried to avoid, but most were friendly and good-humoured. They joined in games, listened to children’s stories and generally managed to maintain order without constantly shouting.
Naturally, they had disciplinary powers of a sort.
The great threat was:
“I shall tell the headmaster!”
For lesser offences, a child might be told to stand facing a wall for several minutes and think about his or her behaviour.
Usually that was sufficient.
But shortly before one school holiday, two friends and I decided to test the patience of one unfortunate dinner lady to its absolute limit.
We were over-excited and repeatedly wandered into areas where pupils were forbidden to go, including the staff car park.
To make matters worse, the dinner lady supervising us happened to be the aunt of one of my friends.
She repeatedly told us to behave.
We repeatedly ignored her.
Eventually she ordered the three of us to stand facing the wall and calm ourselves down.
That should have ended the matter.
It didn’t.
