Whether you feel relaxed eating in front of the TV depends on your upbringing, even your country of origin. My mother thought it was the height of negligence, but we weren’t allowed to go downstairs in pajamas.
In my first job, I acquired a posh boyfriend. We spent a few weekends at her parents’ home in the Cotswolds, a beautiful honey-coloured former parsonage with a huge garden. What happened in that house on Saturday night? We didn’t just have TV dinners; we had special TV dinner platters – one each – from which we ate plates of fish pie or sausage and mash while watching Cilla on blind date. Do you see, mom? Chicks don’t care.
And then there are those who don’t care whatever their class. When I found out that Beryl Bainbridge was writing novels in a nightie, wearing gloves and smoking fags and having fried eggs for lunch, I thought it was okay, frankly.
I loved going to dinner shows when I was a television producer. The hours were so long that there never seemed to be enough time to eat and then watch TV. Emergencies and thirty and some were eaten from the sofa accompanied by large bowls of spaghetti tossed with olive oil, garlic, chili flakes and chopped parsley.
It’s surprising to think that the French – so conservative when it comes to dining – are so happy to snack in front of the screen, whereas the family for which I am an au pair was atypical. Not only did they eat in front of the TV, but they dined in bed in front of the TV. The TV was in the master bedroom.
The couple had three children, aged 18 months to nine years. Guess it made sense, after an exhausting day, to walk into the huge king size and eat pasta in front The 8 p.m. games (the evening game show). Aware of my mother’s strangeness, I balanced on the edge of the mattress, eating the pasta with ham and Gruyère cheese, my feet planted firmly on the ground.
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This notice was published: 2021-10-13 07:44:01