School dinners at my junior schools were vile, they were the bane of my early school life under age 11, along with the compulsory milk. I had an ongoing phobia about being forced to ingest lumpy matter that was ever present in any white foodstuff That fear overshadowed the occasional nice pudding, or something agreeable like the chipolatas, sadly always ruined by the accompanying lumpy mash. They improved somewhat at my convent, senior school, cooked in the kitchens by the nuns who seemed to at least have some culinary know how, rather than being supplied by the local council in industrial sized containers as they were at junior school. We were also given the choice at senior school to have a hot cooked meal or bring our own packed lunch if we wished.