One Saturday summer lunchtime particularly sticks in my mind. Mum told me we would have a ‘nice salad’ for dinner as it was too hot to cook. She told me to get all the ingredients out of the fridge and start chopping them up. Now, I absolutely loathed salad and had to stand at the counter and chop every single ingredient, including the horrible-looking pickled vegetables.
Mum finished off the dinner and told me to sit down. On that day, I wasn’t particularly hungry anyway, and I asked her if I could put mine in the fridge and eat it later.
She replied emphatically: “No, you will do nothing of the kind. You will sit here at this table and eat every single bit of salad on that plate, young lady – and I mean every bit!”