It’s always good to get out of your comfort zone. Especially when you’re two. After a few months spent wobbling around the playroom of the family pile, you’re bursting to get out there and test your mettle on the varying floor surfaces of the real world. After all, if you’re two and you’re in a pub, there’s not a whole lot else to do, is there?
Our young companion, then, couldn’t wait to free himself from the confines of his comfy, padded high chair and go explore the carved wooden forest around, gurgling with delight at the hessian weave massaging his wee tootsies. It’s a big pub, the Pear Tree, and soon enough, to his glee, he was out of mother’s eyeline.
There is a whole world of survivialist machismo going on at knee-level.
I wanted to start with talk of comfort zones, because nothing quite says ‘comfort’ as a menu choice that reads “game pate with rhubarb chutney on sourdough bread”, followed by “roast Neston beef, Yorkshire pudding, squash puree, cauliflower cheese, roast potatoes and parsnips”, with “treacle tart and jersey cream” to finish off. Yes, the fat, smug adults all remained smothered in self-satisfaction in their little booth, swelteringly full of amazing food, firmly within their own boundaries. Out there, amongst the other, vaguely discountenanced diners, a small chap was making his first break for freedom.
Go for your life, young man – just get the waitress’ attention while you’re there, eh? We need more ale over here. Mmmm, the fast life.