I cringed. I looked back on my day and a cold rush of shock, discomfort and embarrassment ran through my body: I’d taken my family to tea at Claridge’s Hotel, London.
Oh, it was fancy, alright.
Lavish, ornate surroundings. Friendly but attentive, “nothing too much trouble” service. My kids had dusted off their ties, polished their shoes, checked their jackets still fitted them after the last wearing, precisely one year previously.
This was a chance to show them some luxury, teach some manners, create a vision. And for them to demonstrate some confidence in an (entirely) alien situation.
That’s what I told myself.
But was it paleo? Hell, no.