From out of nowhere a rogue thought occurred: I wonder what Miss Lunn would say?
Miss Lunn was a person of import; someone around whom every other person felt they should sit up straight; a Headmistress one did not 'mess with', whatever the circumstance. And so it was a worthy thought, this wondering about what she might say.
She was just what an American would expect from a British school principal: firm, punctilious, rigorous; and she expected no less from others. Our daughter and son were mere beginners in the game. Minions raised by American parents, schooled in American public schools. Perhaps (I worried), a step beneath.
https://www.flickr.com/photos/lwr/8875774971/
They were all kitted out in their new school uniforms, and we headed for the first day with some trepidation. At registration Miss Lunn had told us that the children may find things to be 'a bit different' from their American schools. If only we knew.
Eating was one such difference. The school provided a hot midday meal, for a fee. It was a true and significant dinner (no lunch, this!) that a family might sit down to together: main dish, vegetables, warm bread, salad, and - 'pudding'. NOT chocolate or vanilla, but a real dessert such as apple crumble, or strawberry merange tart, or chocolate filled cake, topped with warmed custard. (the SconeLady's mouth has just watered).
The two new Americans suddenly noticed everyone staring at them. Miss Lunn (from her place at the head of the table) was especially staring. "WHAT are you doing!?" she cried. "The manner in which you are eating is entirely improper. Do take your fork and place it in your LEFT hand, and leave it there. No switching back and forth."
This was tricky, for at home they must 'eat American!'. There was no way around it, for they had a British Headmistress at one place, and the U.S. Air Force at the other. It was, as I say, tricky.
And now I had a plan that Miss Lunn might not like; might not actually go along with. I kept putting off telling her about it and now, I couldn't sleep. She must be told, but the right words eluded me. I could not figure out what to do, tossing and turning until my husband mumbled, "What IS it?" My last words before sleep mercifully came, were..
"..Oh, the things we would do - the things we might do if it weren't for what Miss Lunn might say."
See you along the way!
the SconeLady
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photo credit: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/lwr/8742972944/">Leo Reynolds</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/">cc</a>
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