I WILL always remember my mother’s face when her father (always Big Bompa, to me and my brother), having recently remarried after the early death of my grandmother, answered her question of ‘So, Daddy, what are you, Mary and June (her stepmother and stepdaughter, respectively) having for your Christmas lunch together this year?’, as follows. ‘Oh, well, darling,’ he whispered, blushing a little. ‘Mary does enjoy a roast pheasant or two, at this time of year, as she’s always thought that turkey can be a little dry.’
‘Oh, how lovely,’ trilled Mum, clearly not thinking lovely thoughts at all.
This would have been in the early 1960s or thereabouts. A brace of pheasants, then, would have cost a pretty penny or two and would have been seen as gracing…