At my first boarding school, we'd get steak that was strangely shaped like the heel leather of a shoe and was twice as tough.
My second boarding school had a chef (Walter) whose roast beef was off the scale of perfection that we'd have to post guards to prevent the day pupils getting into the refectory.
My son's primary school can't afford to give him enough food to fill him up, and that's because state school funding is woefully bad. Last week he had a fish finger sandwich with a bap with half a Birds Eye-style fish finger in it. Half! And yet all the toffs on here are fine with that and shock horror if private schools might have to pay VAT. Fvck right off.
Fish finger sandwich? Luxury compared to hard boiled eggs in generic curry sauce at a school where we often went hungry because the food on offer was too grim to eat.
If it hadn't been for the over priced tuck shop, I'd have starved to death in that first school. The food was abysmal. On a Sunday we'd get chicken that oddly tasted like fish. If we got leather pork chops on Monday, it meant we were getting stew on Tuesday and Wednesday. We'd get sausages and mash on other days but not good sausages, they were beef and tasted awful. The butcher who delivered them told me that if the school wasn't buying them, he'd have been selling them as dog food.
Our Sunday roast chicken was always still slightly pink in the middle. I remember one Sunday lunch where the boy opposite me stopped eating and put his head in his hands for a moment before projectile hurling broccoli which filled his plate and begun to flow across the table like a small green tsunami. I recall the panic of being unable to escape because I was on a bench with people either side of me.
Of the very many local cuzzaporiums in my part of London, there was one which, until a facelift a few years ago, made the mistake of choosing a font for its signage which made look like it was called "A Taste of RaT". Wasn't my favourite tbh.
Still, at least those private fees weren't wasted - not many conveyancers around who don't have the old boy's club behind them is there?
As has been the case through most of my career I'm still very much the minority in my team. Certainly I have never actually gained any work through the old boys club because I'm only actively in contact with one person I went to school with.
an old friend of mine (not from school) was a Dublin radio breakfast show host.. he packed it in a few months ago which tells me he has finally gotten all the money from his fathers estate, and there was a LOT of money.
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Not surprised that no one has felt bitten to reply to this prolif, so far
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At my first boarding school, we'd get steak that was strangely shaped like the heel leather of a shoe and was twice as tough.
My second boarding school had a chef (Walter) whose roast beef was off the scale of perfection that we'd have to post guards to prevent the day pupils getting into the refectory.
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Rat au Van, big hit in the trenches of WW1 apparently
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My son's primary school can't afford to give him enough food to fill him up, and that's because state school funding is woefully bad. Last week he had a fish finger sandwich with a bap with half a Birds Eye-style fish finger in it. Half! And yet all the toffs on here are fine with that and shock horror if private schools might have to pay VAT. Fvck right off.
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carefully marinated in a muddy puddle
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I went to a state primary school, there was no such thing as school dinners, we brought a packed lunch.
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Fish finger sandwich? Luxury compared to hard boiled eggs in generic curry sauce at a school where we often went hungry because the food on offer was too grim to eat.
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If it hadn't been for the over priced tuck shop, I'd have starved to death in that first school. The food was abysmal. On a Sunday we'd get chicken that oddly tasted like fish. If we got leather pork chops on Monday, it meant we were getting stew on Tuesday and Wednesday. We'd get sausages and mash on other days but not good sausages, they were beef and tasted awful. The butcher who delivered them told me that if the school wasn't buying them, he'd have been selling them as dog food.
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Our Sunday roast chicken was always still slightly pink in the middle. I remember one Sunday lunch where the boy opposite me stopped eating and put his head in his hands for a moment before projectile hurling broccoli which filled his plate and begun to flow across the table like a small green tsunami. I recall the panic of being unable to escape because I was on a bench with people either side of me.
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Of the very many local cuzzaporiums in my part of London, there was one which, until a facelift a few years ago, made the mistake of choosing a font for its signage which made look like it was called "A Taste of RaT". Wasn't my favourite tbh.
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Sunday dinner at school.
How homely.
Still, at least those private fees weren't wasted - not many conveyancers around who don't have the old boy's club behind them is there?
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Had pigeon for dinner at the weekend. Rats of the sky innit
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No but protein from roaches and/or other insects is surely on its way.
Given how supportive RoF’s lefties are of all things progressive I am sure they will be welcoming this too.
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I'm pretty sure that's what was being passed off as chicken in our school.
Small portions, didn't taste like chicken and every now and then a lead pellet.
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Barry worried about forced cannibalism if roaches become part of the human food chain.
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Still, at least those private fees weren't wasted - not many conveyancers around who don't have the old boy's club behind them is there?
As has been the case through most of my career I'm still very much the minority in my team. Certainly I have never actually gained any work through the old boys club because I'm only actively in contact with one person I went to school with.
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Sorry two as there's one who works in the same firm as me albeit he'd only just been born as I left the school.
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I've never used the old boys network but keep in touch just in case I need to.. I can't abide most of them.
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Half mine are no use anyway as journalists in South America and the US don't have much work for me nor does a Dublin drive time radio host.
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an old friend of mine (not from school) was a Dublin radio breakfast show host.. he packed it in a few months ago which tells me he has finally gotten all the money from his fathers estate, and there was a LOT of money.
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He put Basil in the ratatouille
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