The art of… eating entertainment
hen I was growing up, my mum didn’t let us watch TV at the dinner table because she had unreasonable expectations of us bonding emotionally and having intense philosophical debates as we passed the salad. But every so often, Mum worked late, and Dad would surrender to the pleas of his three whining children and let us watch , while we ate oven-ready chicken Kievs, or that weird chicken and pasta bake that was 80 percent Heinz cream of mushroom soup. This
