Meals
Photograph: Miss Dave
The main meals were eaten in the communal Dining Room, under the watchful gaze of Miss Leila, the assistant principal, Ethel Davies [ Left. Known to everyone as Miss Dave], various Knatchbull ancestors [Knatchbull was Lord Brabourne’s family name] looking down on us from the walls, and a statue of Christopher Columbus. At one end of the room was a large Canaletto, which was commonly understood by the children to be a representation of the Bridge of Sighs, but later turned out to be the Rialto.
Life at Caldecott was largely regulated by bells. We were summoned to meals, as to other occasions, e.g. Chapel, by the sound of a large bell which was rung about five or ten minutes before meals [the ‘First Bell’] and again [the “Second Bell’] at the appointed time. Many of us regarded it a privilege to be asked to ring the bell.
Cleanliness and tidiness were sacrosanct at mealtimes, and before we could be allowed to go up to the Dining Room we had to be inspected to ensure that we had cleaned our shoes, combed our hair and washed our hands; and sent back to do it again if necessary.
We sat eight to a table, and each table was presided over by a member of staff; the top table by both Miss Leila and Miss Dave. Food was served under the Canaletto, and we would go up, one table at a time, to be served. Mealtimes were again regulated by a bell, this time by a small ornamental handbell rung by Miss Leila to signify the different stages of the meal. In particular, when the time came to clear away between courses, and at the end of the meal, the bell was rung for ‘Silence’, during which we were expected not to speak, to avoid the combined noise of conversation and the clatter of dishes being stacked up.
Considering the privations of postwar Britain, Caldecott fed us well. Lunch and Supper usually consisted of meat and two veg, and there was always pudding [and often seconds]. Probably several other people were, like me, discovering food they had not previously come across; in my case coffee and bananas [lovely] and our staple Saturday breakfasts of kippers and smoked haddock [ rather dried up by the time they were served; of course, cooking for nearly 100 people at a time presented problems, but I have only recently been able to bring myself to eat smoked haddock, and am still put off by the smell of kippers].
One of my favourite breakfasts was what passed for muesli. It was a sort of cold porridge with tinned grapefruit, but I loved it. It is probably the reason why I now always eat muesli for breakfast, although the muesli that I eat now bears little resemblance to it.
Apart from the standard fare, some members of staff would bring to the table favourite foods of their own, which they would also offer to us. I always enjoyed sitting at Elizabeth Lloyd’s breakfast table, where she would usually provide Frank Cooper’s Oxford marmalade, and Miss Leila invariably had [inappropriately?] some Gentleman’s Relish, which she would occasionally offer to us.
Children did not always sit at the same table as their close friends [in many cases they were probably kept apart deliberately to avoid trouble] and would welcome any excuse to get up and wander around, inevitably passing a table where there was a friend with whom they could chat. The usual excuse was to go and fetch a ‘swabber’, to wipe up water which had been spilt on the table.
Wandering was not confined to the children. Miss Travers would seize the opportunity to have a brief discussion with Simon Rodway or one of her other assistants while they were at the serving table getting themselves a second cup of tea or coffee. I well remember one occasion when Ken Arber, who assisted her with the boys for a year or two, had just sat down after refilling his teacup, when Miss Travers came up behind his chair, leaned over and said “Would you like another cup of tea?”, much to his annoyance, which he made no attempt to disguise.
Douglas R once decided to try to make himself faint during Supper, by grabbing the lower rungs of his chair with his hands and pulling on them as hard as possible, while holding his breath. He was successful, and Mike Clover had to carry him out.
The one meal that was informal was afternoon tea. When we arrived home from school, a large urn of tea would be waiting for us in the boys’ playroom, together with thick cut ‘slabs’ of bread with whatever was that day’s spread and a bun or cake. The most frequent combination was lemon curd slabs and doughnuts. Peanut butter was another favourite.
Miss Travers was well aware of her nickname [which was not, as far as I recall, used to her face]. Every member of staff had one day off per week [in fact, less than one day, as it usually began only after breakfast]. Hers was Wednesday, and was enjoyed by the boys as much as by her. On Wednesday mornings some of the boys would attempt to wind her up by asking,apparently in all innocence, “ Is it Wednesday today, Miss Travers?” She well knew their reason for asking, and did not rise to the bait, invariably replying “Yes, Wednesday all day”.
One Wednesday I had come home on an early bus, and was already in the playroom with her and Peter Schussler, Miss Travers having decided to take a different day off that week. I could hear the noise of the boys coming in from the bus stop, and as they got nearer I heard Marshall Adams shout quite clearly “Hooray! Wednesday! Aggie out all day!” She didn’t bat an eyelid.