I had real problems with cabbage when I was a kid. It was made worse by the fact that Dad grew some awful white, slimy variety which Mum boiled to death. Anyway, one Saturday lunch time there were the usual problems with me pulling my best Calvin faces. As a result I got sent out into the back lobby and wouldn’t be allowed in until I’d eaten the foul stuff. Salvation was at hand though. Aha! There were rows of Wellington boots in the lobby and a little cabbage in each solved the problem. Until they put the boots on by which time the cabbage was dried up and unrecognisable. Fifty years on the s ene remains clear in my mind. What a horrible kid I was.