Thompson’s Lost Plimsole

Another short taster.. I’m working on something else at the moment, but fear not, I will still return to Thompson and co….

Part 50

Mr Wormwood wasted no time in clearing his office of what he referred to as frivolities. Several portraits of former Headmasters and a collection of school photographs were all consigned to storage. A large padlock was found and fitted to the school wine cellar, “Which”, thought Mr McQueen, “will infuriate the Hallifield Wine Appreciation Society”, of which a large number of staff were members.  Mrs Wormwood quickly took control of the school catering arrangements and made sure that she had charge of each and every key relating to food storage. Some of the school caterers had been at Hookemin Hall for over thirty years, several generations of scholars and staff, had grown and thrived on copious portions of Jam Roly Poly, Spotted Dick, Bread and Butter Pudding, Bakewell Tart and Creamed Rice. David, Mrs Wormwood’s knuckle dragging brother, had been given the job of caretaker. The mere fact that he lacked the necessary skills to carry out the most menial of tasks, seemed to have been overlooked by his sister, who was now ensconced in the main kitchen pantry, taking an inventory of all food items. She advised the catering manager, Mrs Wilde, that all meal portions should be halved. “My husband and I do not believe in encouraging gluttony,  Deuteronomy 21:20, and I shall personally take charge of service at mealtimes. There will be no seconds, and any boy who doesn’t finish his meal will go without at the next one”.  Mrs Wilde was not used to being spoken to or ordered about in this manner. She ran a happy kitchen with a loyal and industrious staff. Mrs Wormwood’s eyes alighted on a lemon meringue pie cooling down on the kitchen windowsill. “Ah yes”, she said, “I will also be tasting everything that leaves this kitchen in order to ensure that it meets my exacting standards”. This remark upset Mrs Wilde. “I can assure you”, she responded, “I have never had any complaints about my cooking in the thirty years that I have been employed here!”.  Mrs Wormwood had found a serving bowl and was now cutting herself a generous portion of the lemon meringue pie. “I shall be the judge of the standard of catering at this establishment from now on”, she said, “Now, where do you store the cream?”.

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