Rosemary Stokes, 73, from Birmingham
Adjusting my red and white uniform, the clock was ticking closer to lunchtime.
And at 11.45am it was finally go time.
Watching as the dinner hall filled with the chatter of school children, I couldn’t help but smile.
I loved my job.
‘Morning Rose,’ a child grinned from the other side of the counter. ‘May I please have the lasagne?’
And scooping them up a portion, alongside a pile of vegetables and pink sprinkle cake – yes, we still do that – I watched the kids fill their bellies with a warming, nutritious home cooked lunch.
I’d always insisted the children called me by my
