This pushing or testing of my mum’s patience was something I would do quite frequently for some reason, even though I knew what the consequences would be. Perhaps I just wanted the attention, even if the result was a sore little bottom!
We were all (my dad as well) sat at the dining table, an old brown wooden one – there wasn’t a lot else in the dining room. It was all pretty sparse but, as I say, times were hard. The war, and rationing, were really not that far behind us at that point.
I was playing with my food – really, just messing around with my meal. Particularly because of our circumstances, this didn’t go down well at all with Mum.