Is it just me? It can’t just be me, surely? So why don’t I
know anyone else over the age of, say, nine, who is in need of a bib? I’m excluding the need for maximum coverage
when sucking one’s way through a rack of spare ribs draped generously in the sauce
du jour be it hot, barbecue or sticky; not only do you need to be covered in a
tablecloth to eat this stuff but finger bowls have to be bath sized. No, I’m talking about daily meals, the usual
breakfast, lunch and dinner, and the cooking, prepping and eating of same.
It seems fair enough to
expect that you can keep yourself and your clothes neat and clean while in the
kitchen, but I am literally unable to handle food without smearing it on my
clothes, most commonly my sleeves and upper body. OK, flat-chested I am not, which clearly
creates a platform for drip-catching, but why am I dripping stuff with what appears
to be major abandon, in the first place?
I know that aprons exist – I
have many of them – and that other people wear them successfully, but the
putting on of an apron is normally a precursor to baking (flour gets
everywhere) or roasting (dropping meat fat on your best jeans is painful as
well as sartorially inept). And I do
wear my aprons to cook in. And still, I’m
covered in gobs of this and dabs of that.
If, unusually, I am wearing something smart or new I actually have to change
into old clothes to cook because it will be an absolute dead cert that I will
embellish my new favourite top with something that will leave a semi-permanent
stain directly between the boobs. This does
not cheer me.
I don’t think I eat like a ravening
Henry VIII, tossing half carcases of game birds and whole legs of lamb over my
shoulder after violently sinking my teeth into juicy flesh, or perhaps I do. My chin is only occasionally decorated with a
splat of gravy or flake of fish, so again, why am I such a food clutz, unable
to ferry the contents of my spoon, fork or chopstick daintily into my mouth
without creating leavings that adhere, which the dogs will delight in licking off
me later in the day?
I‘m
thinking that perhaps I should get an extra farm boilersuit just for wearing in
the kitchen, or perhaps a wetsuit would be better, although that would make
standing and stirring stuff over the Aga unbearably like tending to hell fires. Or more eccentrically, one of those all in
one things that astronauts wear to moon walk, complete with helmet. With an extra bib to keep the airpipes
unclogged.
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