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 Alice and the lunchbox ...
Lucy came home
yesterday with a sticker on her
lunchbox. I thought it was
orange, she told me amber. Seems
the Lunchbox Police are putting
the boot in at Patanny Primary.
All the kids who take packed
lunches must open boxes for
inspection before tucking in.
Depending on what’s inside they
get a red, amber or green
sticker. The children then have
to discuss possible improvements
with Mum.
Mum? Is making a few sandwiches
a gender thing now? Do
bucket loads of oestrogen make
for a premium lunch box?
Well when I hit the menopause
we’re all buggered. Mind
you, I don’t know why I’m going
on like a women’s libber because
in our house it’s true, I do
make the lunches, even Duncan’s.
And I don’t mind.
To be
honest, I look forward to it. I
always make them the night
before and it’s become a
legitimate excuse to have a mini
feast along the way. Without
fail, by 8 at night I’ve usually
used up me weight watchers quota
so a few extra points belonging
to someone else is just fine - a
lump of cheese here and a slice
of bread there suits me and I
don’t have to note it in my food
diary because I’m eating it
stood up.
I don’t think we
need any more guilt trips though
and I could do without mithering
about whether Lucy is going to
pass the lunch box inspection.
Apparently a red sticker means
unhealthy - contents need
reconsidering. (I would
have gone for something less
subtle, perhaps a hand-written
note in the box saying, “Wagon
Wheels? I don’t think so, slut!”
That would be much more
personal.) I’m guessing an amber
dot means “could do better” and
green means “smart arse”.
Anyway Lucy’s
sticker was amber because the
pack of Cheesy Wotsits let me
down. Thank god she ate her
Milky Way on the way to school.
Three red dots and mum has to
“pop along to school for a chat
with the class teacher when you
get a moment”. I’ll finish my
pop tart first thanks.
I think it’s all
a bit much to be honest, having
a power-daft dinner lady raking
about in your lunch, handing out
stickers like a Blue Peter
presenter. Surely there are
bullies and hoodlums and the
rest of the Patanny mini-mafia
to tackle in the playground?
Lucy wasn’t too bothered though.
She said she brought a letter
home about it ages ago. I found
it later at the bottom of her
bag – a chatty little note it
was, full of ideas to “get you
started”. Apparently kids love
chopped carrots and peppers and
I should find ways to make fruit
more appealing. I gave it a go,
I really did – Duncan came
through to the kitchen when I
was in the middle of chopping
and when he saw the mass of
fruit he asked if I was going to
the zoo. That set the boys off
and they all started with the
monkey impressions and of course Callum went too far trying to do
an orang-utan showing it’s
bottom. I don’t need to
visit a zoo I thought to myself
but I said nothing.
Little Miss Muppet, Fiona
Armstrong obviously gave her mum
the heads-up though. Seems Fiona
turned up with Hummus, chopped
carrots and mini bread sticks
(basil and sesame seed) which is
a bit different from her usual
packs of cheese strings and jammie dodgers. It’ll end in
trouble you mark my words – all
hell will break loose over the
battle of the lunch boxes and
the local shop will be out of
couscous before you can say
Tupperware.
I decided I couldn’t beat them
so Lucy’s not joining them.
She’s back on school dinners and
today she had macaroni cheese
followed by a cherry scone and
custard so it’s reassuring to
know the school has got this
healthy food thing sorted.
I’ve a mind to go down to the
school and attach a red sticker
to the cook in a place where
Jamie Bloody Oliver would be
hard pushed to find.
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