Words and Pictures - School Lunches

School Lunches and Other Things T0o...

When I was a little girl we lived in Tasmania, at Mount Nelson to be precise. We lived on a bendy road that winds it's way up this very small Mountain. Our house was a double story red brick 70s monolith boasting rumpus, river views, a bathroom wallpapered with naked ladies and a mere five minute walk to school.

On school days, I would walk down this bendy road with my Nanna (who lived with us) blowing icy 'dragon breath' in the frosty morning air and dragging my carefully polished Bata Scouts on the footpath. Far from dragging her feet, my Nan was really speedy. I always got there early with Nan. I still get there early (even without my Nan!)

My friend Leanne lived right across the road from school. She was never early. She was right on time. She left home one minute before the school bell. Leanne lived in a neat house with a nice bedspread and a patio and Pampas Grass in her yard. She had really cute freckles and plaits and a perfectly ordered built in wardrobe. I, on the other hand, did not live right across the road from school. My wardrobe was messy, our grass was not fluffy, my bed sported a doona and my freckles were plaited. But we were friends regardless.

Unlike Leanne, me and Nan left 20 minutes before the bell. I was a busy girl with things to do and I required plenty of lead time. I needed to allow time for hanging upside down on the monkey bars and flashing my Strawberry Shortcake undies. Plus time for practicing my hugging and kissing technique on the gum trees that bordered the school grounds. ( Important stuff, right, and that's why I'm a really good kisser now.)

It's vital to note that time was also required for a bit of a Charlie's Angels/Starsky and Hutch/Guns n Ammo kind of playground game. If there were minutes to spare, they were spent playing elastics or searching under the climbing frame for loose change. I was a list-maker way back then too. Even then I liked to arrive early and get stuff done. I don't remember One Minute Leanne doing any of these things - but maybe that was the downfall of living over the road from school. Too busy putting the finishing touches on your hospital corners and doing the dishes for your mum to get down and dirty with Hart to Hart. It's a bit sad, don't you think?

One Minute Leanne went home for lunch. I know that doesn't surprise you. No lunch orders for her. She had something waiting in her Frigidaire. I think it was cucumber sandwiches - made the night before - stowed neatly under a taut sheet of cling-film. I'll tell you right now, my cling film was never taut. And I don't care.

I never went home for lunch. Bugger that. It ate into playtime, and anyway, school lunch orders were the highlight of the week for me. I thought they were a bit like room-service for kids and they were way nicer then cucumber sandwiches. My nanna used to pack a mean lunch, I will admit, featuring Show Quality lamingtons, coconut peaked jam tarts and my favourite butter cake with hundreds and thousands icing. But sidled up next to the treats, there always lurked a sandwich... or worse, a piece of fruit, the scent of which permeated the lunchbox and made me feel queasy. Nan's lunches were great if you threw the sandwich and the fruit away after she kissed you goodbye at the school gate. But who can live with the guilt? Not me. And also I can't quite fathom fairy cakes and jam tarts for lunch. Go figure.

So, I usually asked to buy my lunch. This involved a lunch order. A large, brown, paper bag, scrawled with: Pip Lincolne, Grade 2 : and the requests - 1 Cottage Pie (with Sauce) : 1 Apricot Pie (no cream) : 1 Strawberry Milk (with straw). I don't really remember how much they cost, but it would probably go something like this:

Cottage Pie - 40c
Sauce - 5c
Apricot Pie - 30c
Strawberry Milk - 30c
Total - $1.05

The money would be popped into the scrawled on paper bag and carefully thrown into my school case. Upon arrival, post knicker flashing, tree hugging and gun-toting - the lunch order would be put into a plastic washing basket with many other jingling paper bags. I don't know why it was always a plastic washing basket. It was then collected after roll-call by the 'Lunch Monitor'. I'm not really sure what happened next. There are lots of mysteries in the world of school lunches.

The washing basket would magically appear again at lunch time - laden with banana sandwiches and pies with sauce and yoghurts and packets of chips and foil topped orange juice and the teacher would distribute these things to their rightful owners.

You know, I reckon I lived on cottage pies for years. I loved the way the layer of piped on whipped potato concealed a generous squeeze of tomato sauce beneath it. I really liked the way the sauce and the potato and the pie filling all melded together merrily. I remember clearly how hard it was to eat, how it dripped down the front of your uniform sometimes and how delicious it was to have something nourishing and hot on those freezing Hobart days. Far more delicious then bumped up pears and stinky honey sandwiches, I can tell you. Except if the pie got squashed. Or if the two pies mixed together. Or if your paper bag got a saucy hole in it. Those things were not delicious at all.

I met One Minute Leanne many years later - when we were both grown up. She was not as neat as she used to be. I didn't ask about school lunches or Pampas Grass or Hospital Corners. She did a lot of the talking, actually. She told me she was working for Medicare and that she liked to look up all her friend's and relative's medical claims to see what they'd been up to. We discussed my recent operation. Maybe if she'd joined in on a few more games of Charlie's Angels and had the odd cottage pie, she wouldn't have become a white collar criminal. There's a lesson in that. Arrive early, play games and give your kids nice lunches or else they'll turn bad.

xx Pip


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