I am genuinely prejudiced towards country people

Here’s Sunday’s lunch in Red Hill, at Stillwater at Crittenden. Three courses go down very well after a few hours in the hot springs. The service was pretty good, too. Our waitress was competent, friendly, and efficient. But every time she came over to talk to us I couldn’t stop staring at her hair, her make-up, her whole get-up. She had moussed ringlets hanging down her forehead, and bronze eyeshadow slathered across her eyelids.

She was obviously from the country. For this reason, I judged myself to be superior to her.

Even D, usually free of any snobbishness, said, ‘I can’t stop staring at her fringe…’

I acknowedge that this prejudice is really bad. I must eradicate it.