EATING OUT

When most people talk about 'eating out' they are probably thinking of cafés, pubs or restaurants, and imagining their favourite lunch or dinner menus – with the emphasis on the 'eating'.
In contrast, my mind goes straight to the 'out' and pictures suitable 'spots', scenes and places to sit (preferably with a handy bench) where I can throw down a rug, open up a bag or two, and spread out a picnic.
This routine, or even way of life, was instilled in me at a very early age, when I definitely showed a preference for Mummy's home food and being out in the open air – with not too much notice of the weather – rather than sitting formally in a stuffy restaurant. Our chief delight on a car trip was to find a good spot for a picnic even if it meant taking a slight detour... And picnics were not just reserved for lunches or teas – sitting under a hedge on a warm summer's evening, usually a Sunday, with bread and cheese, maybe pickles and ham, plus of course a good bottle of home-brewed cider – was my father's ultimate pleasure.

So it was natural that with our own three girls 30 years later, I followed the same pattern – perhaps just down the road to the local beach, or sitting around a table in the garden... a perfect solution for messy eaters and any food spillage too!

I have many memories of 'eating out' – they seem to be recalled more readily than meals under cover – maybe a bit like sketching a scene compared to taking a photograph. Just recently we (just the two of us now) often cycled along the lanes to a nearby boatyard, packing cheese and pickle sandwiches, a small bottle of wine and a couple of glasses into my bike bag, to sit and look at the boats – even better if the tide was on the move... And of course, packing a few sandwiches and a drink – not forgetting apples and my favourite bananas – into a rucksack for a walk is marvellous – and better still when the picnic is finished and the rucksack is lighter! I also have happy memories of a flask of coffee and digestive biscuits – sitting in my MG, crossing the Mendip hills on dark winter evenings with a baby asleep in the back – the windows all misted up with steam.

Oh yes, all ages can be catered for on a picnic – and a sense of companionship and freedom is assured – it's a way of really living 'the moment' and being part of the scene around.

For my 'eating out' pictures I'm attaching an old family picnic from about 1960 – with primus stove (sheltered from the wind), and my father in his chair and hat, and my sister and myself on a rug, somewhere near the Dorset coast. Then a summertime garden picnic 30 years or so later with our young family, and finally one of me plus banana on a beach in Norfolk – about 15 years after that.

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