They ate their way around Wolvehampton.

Those words were said this week and really sum it all up for me.




My Nanna died about three weeks ago and her funeral was on Monday, Valentine's Day. She was my maternal Grandmother and to say she lived and loved her food is an understatement.



Early memories of her were when I was around 9 years old. Sometimes on a Saturday night my sister and I used would go round her house for tea. The meal was always the same, adult size portion of fish and chips each finished off with a third each of a Walls mint vienetta, washed down with gallons of Lilt. Oh and of course don't forget the two pieces of bread and butter. I should imagine there was enough calories in this one meal to last an average 9 year old a week. And if we didn't eat it, we must have been ill or have eaten too many sweeties before we went round. In fact if Nanna hadn't fed us enough she felt as if she hadn't looked after us right.



On Sunday lunchtime she would go to the Berni Inn a chain of steakhouses, one of which was in Wolverhampton. Firstly she went with Grandad Fred and then when he died, she went with her friend Sid or Uncle Sid as I called him.

Nanna would come back from the Berni, telling us stories of the people who used to go there and of the food. Juicy steaks served with, beef tomatoes, mushrooms, egg, onion rings and huge chunky chips. She would bring back her cocktail umbrellas and I would use them as parasols for my Sindy dolls.

I used to beg my parents to take me to the Berni. I wanted to go to this magical place and have all those delicious things on one plate and have the drink that went with the cocktail umbrella. I used to imagine what the place was like and what the people were like that went there. All the ladies dolled up in their finery and the men in their suits looking their Sunday best.
They never did take me. Funny enough, I asked my Mom afterwards at the wake why we never went and she told me they could never afford it. Must have been a pricey place then.

The berni has long since gone and so as Grandad Fred, Uncle Sid and now Nanna. But even now I regard a steak as a very special treat and only ever order it on very special occasions.



As we were sat there on Monday afternoon listening to the Ministers eulogy, I wondered about those Saturday night suppers and realised I never really stood a chance with my relationship to food. It was in my genes to love it and to struggle with the consequences of that relationship.

Looking around the chapel at the women of my family and believe me there are lots of us, I realised that they too have had that love of food and battled against it at one time or another. Is this nature or nurture? That’s another blog post another day.



The Minister summed it up as she was talking about Nanna's hobbies and interests,



Lillian enjoyed going out with her friend Sid, as they ate their way around Wolverhampton.



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berni_Inn