Harrods’ Department Store is always a must stop when I am in London. As it is a favorite place, I generally plan my time to make lunch at Harrods possible. Normally I would eat in the downstairs Green Man pub. The Green Man is a quite nice bar, kind of pricey, done up in an Olde English motif (as envisioned by an Egyptian). That night’s plan called for a meeting at one of the local watering holes and I envisioned a pretty “liquid evening,” so I thought it best to forego alcohol so as not to abuse my system any more then necessary.
        Instead of the Green Man, I chose the upstairs dining room where one could obtain a very nice lunch in a pleasant atmosphere. I was scanning the menu when a voice asked, “Do you mind if we share your table?” The English are a great deal more willing to share tables than are other nationalities. It must be a holdover from the war when space and accommodations were very short and sharing was the order of the day.
        When in Rome. I looked up and indicated that the lady and her little girl were welcome to share my table. They were both nicely dressed, obviously out for a day of shopping and providing a treat for the little girl to eat out at Herrods. I am notoriously bad a judging ladies’ ages, and that applied to little girls, too. I think the girl must have been about seven or eight. She was wearing a summer frock, white anklets and a straw Breton. They were obviously mother and daughter on a girls’ day out.
        The mother and I exchanged pleasantries. The little girl, very quiet and well mannered, had crossed her legs at the ankles and was gently swinging them back and forth. She was a perfect picture of English gentility.
        In response to a question, I indicated that Harrods was always a must stop destination when
I was in London. We spoke of inconsequential

 things for a little while and then gave the waitress our luncheon order.
        The mother smiled at me and asked, “Canadian?”
        I replied, “No. American.”
        The mother replied with one of those indistinguishable English verbalized pauses, “Um.”
        The little girl pondered this for a moment, turned to her mother as said, “Mommy, you said all Americans are loud. He’s not loud.”
        There was a heavy silence, which lasted until I could no longer hold it in, and I produced a very ungentlemanly giggle.
        The mother lowered her head, and I could see she too was trying hard not to laugh.
        The little girl looked shocked and turned to her mother and asked in a whispered voice. “Oh Mommy, was that a clanger?”
        The mother, now laughing to the point of tears replied, “Yes, dear, that was a clanger!”
        With that we two adults erupted into laughter, shocking the tables around us. I held up my hands in a gesture of submission and replied, “It was just too perfect! I fully expect to be invited out to dinner frequently just so my hosts can hear this delightful story.”
        I added, “One thing you must promise me. When she is twenty, at university and full of herself, you must agree that you will tell her this story.”
        Mother replied, “I promise. It will have a leveling effect.”
        Over time I have often thought of this lunch. I have often heard the phrase, in vino veritas, but for me, give me an uninhibited child every time.
 
    
  
                                Copyright © Alan C. Beckman