When I read about veteran newsreader Jan Leeming complaining over noisy children spoiling her lunch at an upmarket restaurant recently, I dismissed it. Just another fading celebrity desperate to remain in the public eye by having a whinge.
I can’t remember the last time I ate lunch out during a weekend where children weren’t present. And as I love nothing more than spending time with my granddaughter Ella, wherever that may be, I was very much not Team Leeming.
But has her griping and the debate it triggered spawned a wave of copycat adults who now feel empowered to complain about children in public places?
Ella and I felt the full force of the backlash within days in an encounter with a famous British actress, an establishment icon no less, who I once revered.
It was Sunday morning and my daughter had to work, so I took four-and-a-half-year-old (forget the half at your peril) Ella to a local Cotswolds restaurant for breakfast. Having studied the menu, she ordered a hot chocolate.
‘Would you like marshmallows on that?’ asked the waiter. ‘Oh, yes please,’ she squealed, both hands clasped tightly beneath her chin, blue eyes wide, pigtails swaying. It was impossibly cute and the waiter was charmed.
That was when I noticed the actress. I thought I saw an eyeroll, a shake of the head.
‘And would you like cream on top?’ the waiter continued. They both looked to me. I was cornered. ‘I am going to be in so much trouble with Mummy,’ I said. They both laughed out loud, joint conspirators. ‘And shall I sprinkle chocolate on the cream too?’ Ella’s excitement and the laughter that followed was uncontainable.
Our columnist had an awkward exchange with a famous British actress while out for breakfast with her four-year-old granddaughter Ella
Some now feel empowered to complain about children in public places (posed by model)
But I didn’t join in. I was distracted by the actress trying to catch the attention of another waiter while glaring at us. Her disapproval of what was unfolding at our table was unmistakeable.
My granddaughter was now politely ordering the rest of her breakfast, the waiter happily playing along with her, but every time she spoke the actress did an exaggerated eyeroll in a manner deserving of the Oscar she’s failed to bag.
Once the waiter had left, Ella did stand up by the window and chatted away to me about the bookshop over the road and the nice lady who works in there on Sunday mornings and about the park and how it was too wet to visit today.
But I was uneasy. The actress was now wearing a thunderous expression and then suddenly she screeched: ‘Will someone please shut that child up!’
I was stunned. Ella stood stock still, eyes wide in fear. ‘Is that lady talking to me?’ she whispered. Then she threw herself into my arms, all the pleasure of the breakfast treat gone from her voice.
‘No of course not,’ I said as I hugged her to me. I called the waiter over and asked if he could find us another table. ‘I’m not sure that lady likes being around children,’ I told him.
Then, in a complete volte face, the actress leant over from her table towards me and said ‘Thank you so much’ in an affected voice that normal people simply don’t use in an everyday conversation!
It was as if she thought the cafe was her stage, my granddaughter and I her unwitting extras. She was creating her own scene and revelling in it. Her cowardly husband (I Googled to check it was him) sat stock still, staring down at the table, looking as if he hoped the floor would swallow him.
For a nanosecond, a part of me felt sorry for him but that was short-lived, she was off again. The menu in her hand could have been a script. Did someone just shout ‘Lights, camera, ACTION’?
‘Most people don’t understand how it is or offer to do that,’ she told me, her face suspiciously taut, her eyes weirdly fluttering. ‘They simply don’t understand.’
The waiter appeared behind her and ushered us over to a new table. We gathered our things but at that moment, I saw red. I’ve spent enough of my life being intimidated by those who assumed that they were superior to me. As we passed her, I paused: ‘What people don’t understand is what an incredibly rude and bad-mannered woman you are. We are moving because we find it objectionable to sit near you.’
I left her – a mother herself by the way – shaking with indignation as her husband whispered something under his breath. Perhaps I should have kept quiet or muttered ‘You’re welcome’ in response to her patronising final comments. But that’s not me. You can take the girl out of Liverpool, but you can’t take Liverpool out of the girl.
For those who share Jan Leeming’s view on the presence of young children in smart eateries – and who may think the actress had a point, I have this to say. It’s a sad day when the adults in any society forget that it is the children – their innocence and happiness, their untainted perspective on life – which represent the pure joy that is still to be found in this dangerous world. And we’d be in a much better place if we all remembered it.
Actress and singer Liza Minelli is set to release her memoir Kids, Wait Till You Hear This! soon
Liza Minnelli turns 80 next month and has written a tell-all memoir. What a woman, what a life! For most people, it’s her Oscar-winning turn as Sally Bowles in Cabaret that’s most memorable or her ‘Liza with a Z’ documentary. But whenever I hear her name, I can only think of her with the Pet Shop Boys and Losing My Mind, which I take pride in being able to sing all the way through.
Who paid for Fergie spa trip?
Former Duchess of York Sarah Ferguson has come under fire for her links with Epstein
Sarah Ferguson, get yourself to a nunnery now. Take the veil and never leave.
A lifetime would not be long enough for you repent for your sheer greed and stupidity, and the role you and your half-brained ex-husband have played in damaging our Royal Family.
You have tarnished the legacy of our late Queen and are the ongoing cause of immense distress to the King and Queen.
And just where did the money come from for the £13,000 per night it reportedly cost for you to stay in a Swiss spa as the new revelations about you and Epstein piled up? We should be told.
No appetite for Greens
Let’s not forget that the Green Party candidate, Hannah Spencer, standing in the Gorton and Denton by-election on Thursday, who portrays herself as an ’umble plumber, owns two homes in the more affluent suburbs of Manchester, drives two cars and flies off on long holidays around the world.
She’s standing for a party led by a man who charged women to hypnotise them under the pretence that he could enlarge their breasts. Oh, and it believes in totally open borders, too.
If the Greens are set to become a force in British politics, we are truly stuffed.
I’ve just returned from Tenerife. Passport control takes for ever. It’s nothing to do with Brexit and everything to do with the new EES (Entry/Exit System) digital technology at European borders which is replacing the grumpy humans who used to do the job in an efficient 30 seconds.
As I stood in the queue, idly watching my varicose veins grow, I timed how long it now takes to process each person passing through. Four to five minutes. And that, folks, is what they call progress.
