Table Manners
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¶1The other day, my friend Nicky was reflecting on what kind of a job she had done as a mother. Her three boys had completed their education without major mishaps, all were now holding down a job. Result! "Then I had dinner with them," said Nicky, "and, oh my God, their table manners. It was like feeding time at the zoo. How did I forget to do table manners?"
¶2Nicky made me think about the state of dining etiquette at my home. The Daughter has quite not mastered putting her knife and fork together at the end of a meal. The Boy eats like Henry VIII, and I don't mean in an impressive, regal manner. A sausage will be speared on a fork, then lifted up and gnawed from either end. Tom who, after 15 years of nagging, chiding and pleading, is almost a complete stranger to the knife, despite many attempts to explain that it's the thing you use to cut stuff up. My son will attempt to eat any foodstuff by fork — or hand — alone. Judging by his peer group, the knife is increasingly regarded as an optional implement. A finger buffet used to be something you found at weddings; now all of life is one long finger buffet.
¶3Frankly, I blame myself. I managed to drum please and thank you into both children but, instead of insisting that they ate meat, I fed them the new childhood staples: carrots, rice, pasta and sauce. Knives not required.
¶4Over Sunday lunch last week, I encouraged the Boy to swap the fork into his left hand, hold the knife in his right and push his peas onto the back of the fork. Not too much to ask, is it? He gave an existential snort as befits a teenager. "Why would I want to do that?" he inquired. "Because. Because table manners are... very important," I said helplessly.
¶5Are they? Of course, they are. Manners make the man. At least, that's what I was taught during a childhood when every meal was an ordeal. Elbows Off The Table! Don't Speak With Your Mouth Full! Don't Hold Your Knife Like a Pen! Ask Before You Get Down From The Table! Don't Chew Noisily! Where's Your Napkin?
¶6And God help you if you didn't clear your plate. We were the children of frugal, wartime children and food was a serious business, not to be played with or wasted. Back then, there was no such thing as a fussy eater: you were shut in a room with five brussels sprouts till you surrendered.
¶7Parents today lack both the stomach, and the time, for such a battle of wills. Carolyn, a primary teacher who works at one of London's leading prep schools, tells me that it's not uncommon for pupils to arrive unable to use cutlery. Partly, she thinks it has to do with being given constant finger food.
¶8I can, however, identify another possible culprit: the kitchen island. It's not unusual to find all members of a family, adults and kids, standing round the island, grazing on different types of food. They can't be bothered to sit down at the table; if they still have one, that is. According to recent research, six out of ten meals consumed in British homes are eaten in front of the TV. Fortunately, there are no statistics for barbarians like me, who are quite happy to eat in bed.
¶9Is all this the end of civilization as we know it or just a changing family dynamic with more casual ways of eating? Will my darling son ever learn to put his peas on the back of a fork and be acceptable in polite society, or is polite society now rudely picking up fries with its fingers?
¶10I will always nag my kids about such things because they are an expression of civility and restraint, and, yes, my mother was quite right: speaking with your mouth full is not nice.