I taught them to cook vidya4 - Flipbook - Page 25
Autumn Term
23
evening tea. He says my lessons are his favourite, and I can see
how Nan has shared her cooking skills. As he dumps his onions
in a bowl of cold water, a stream of dribble runs from his nose,
over his chin and splashes in. Plop! Pickled onions and snot –
now how are we going to make that safe to eat?
Squeals come from Carol and Vicky who are peeling and
chopping some windfall apples.
Carol pins a slug with the tip of her paring knife and its
innards ooze onto the table. They group in disgust to watch the
slug shrivel in green slime.
‘Err Miss – look at this slug – I ain’t using them apples.’
Carol holds the dying slug up for the boys to share her
revulsion.
‘OK, girls. Throw the bruised bits of apples away. We’re still
going to use the rest.’
‘Miss, I ain’t eating things with slugs in. Why do I have to do
this lesson anyway?’
Carol unties her apron, slings it on the table, heads for the
door and beckons Vicky to follow. This is Carol’s usual trick to
meet her boyfriend at the school gates, but her boyfriend might
not find the smell of vinegar and rotting fruit so attractive today.
Carol tells me that school, and my lessons in particular, are
rubbish. Vicky just trots behind her nodding in agreement.
The remaining girls stir the compote of apples, onions, vinegar
and brown sugar into a bubbling broth.
The boys pack their tiny onions into warm Kilner jars and
pour in hot Sarson’s malt vinegar.
The fragrance from my room often attracts wandering staff
and students who sniff the air and open the door and go ‘Ah!
Bisto!’ like the TV ad. Biff is a frequent visitor. He gets sent out
of lessons to drift around the school in search of mischief and
sources of entertainment.
‘Miss – this room always smells lovely – when can I do cooking
with you? Please let me in.’