Dear LPG, 

I was reading recently that each May is now dubbed National storytelling month, a month which is designed to focus on societies’ children, and even though I am by no means a child anymore, I have a story or two that I can remember from back then.  

When we were young my brother and I were very close, not only in age but in everything that we did.  There are always rules when it comes to being a child and lessons to be taught.  

This lesson is one of those that is the hardest to learn in my opinion and it concerns the reality of being fair when it comes to sharing.  So here comes the story with the moral.

It was the school holidays when, in the early 1950s mums were more likely to be at home with you during those long days of summer.  The family week away was there to be looked forward to but unlike the young children of today, we spent most of the rest of those six weeks at home amusing ourselves to a large extent while the mums got on with the jobs that needed to be done.

But there were those days when we either visited or invited school friends and family members round to break the monotony.  On one occasion I remember my mum adapting Kings Solomon’s wisdom to teach us a lesson.   Do you remember that story about the two mothers who claimed the one baby? 

It was one of those days when our cousins came round and that always meant some special treats to look forward to.  There would be a special tea, and many foods that were not usually around would make an appearance including family favourite, a large supply of jam and cream doughnuts.  We were always told how bad they were for us which is why they were only ever allowed on such occasions.

Well, the day went well with none of those squabbles that are so often part of them, and so did all the food although I am sure that most children of my era will remember that rule about never being the one to take the very last item from any plate. 

After everyone had gone we helped with the clearing up, but this meant that there was just one doughnut left. My brother and I each decided to ‘tidy it away’ at the same time and we started arguing over whose was the most deserving stomach.  For some reason cutting it in half did not enter our heads but as our discussion on the subject got more heated, our mum stepped in.  As she listened to each of us explaining that the other had more during the party, and of course that classic ‘I’m the eldest’ argument, she called for a knife and asked my brother to cut the cake in half.  He, of course, cut it with a big half and a much smaller half with his eye on getting the lion’s share but my mother then told me to pick the piece I wanted.  

We soon learnt that there was no point in geometrical cheating…

CR, New Cross