Mussels

I first recall eating mussels at the age of six - the boggling vision of a blue mountain was plonked into my low field of vision, casting a shadow over where I sat. Close-up hands tucked a napkin about my neck and gestured as to how I might use the empty pincer-like shell of one to tweezer out the meat of the others. Heaven! The same cannot be said for the family holidaying with us; their peace shattered by my fierce tantrums on being repeatedly told it was unreasonable for any child to have six bowls of moules marinières a day.