Dining-in night rituals - Tony Cunnane's Life and Times

This is a slightly edited version of an article I wrote in 1961.

Towards the end of the course we had a formal Dining-In Night. These occasions follow a standard pattern that has remained largely unchanged from the earliest days of the RAF. For this, our very first dining-in night, because we had not received from our tailors the ceremonial mess kit, we had to wear parade uniform but with a white shirt and black bow tie instead of the blue shirt and black tie. The bow tie had to be of the single-ended variety – the most difficult type to tie. Double-ended bow ties are not permitted - they are deemed infra dig for some obscure reason - and it is a terrible crime to be caught sporting a ready-made clip-on bow tie however many ends it might have. The brand-new single-ended bow tie came in a small packet complete with a slip of paper illustrating how to tie it properly. The instructions and associated diagrams were not very clear so most of us resorted to tying each other's. That involved two men standing close together in front of a full length mirror, the one doing the tying with his arms around the neck of the one being dressed, a pose which resulted in much merriment and coarse humour. It was quite possible to find that when the bow was complete, the whole thing hung much too slackly around the neck so that it had to be re-done.

Dining-in nights were timed as '7.30 for 8'. We arrived at the entrance to the Ante Room en masse at 7.30, queued up to come to attention individually in front of the President of the Mess Committee (PMC) and bade him good evening. There was an almost overwhelming urge to click one's heels and bow one's head whilst doing this, but that was highly frowned upon. For training purposes one of our course had been appointed PMC for the evening. During the next 25 minutes or so waiters passed amongst us with solid silver trays offering us sherry or water – no other pre-dinner drinks were allowed and no smoking was permitted. All the directing staff officers and one or two other officers from around the station joined us on this occasion. We made polite conversation with those around us. It had been drilled into us that the conversation on Dining-In Nights must not include references to women, the job, politics or religion, so conversations tended to be rather stilted.

We all kept a close watch on the time and from about 7.53pm there was a general flow, a few at a time, to the toilets. Anyone needing to leave the dining room during the meal would have to march up to the PMC at the top table and formally request permission to leave. We had been warned that the meal and the post-meal speeches could last up to three hours and that permission to go to the toilet might not be granted and, even if it were, it would probably cost a round of drinks after dinner! We also needed to consult the seating plan, which was on display near the Ante Room entrance. It was important to remember the way the plan was orientated; it would be very embarrassing to march into the Dining Room and then be unable to find one's seat.

At 8pm prompt, the Mess Manager arrived from the kitchen, went up to the trumpeter at the door to the ante room and prompted him to sound off. In the silence that followed that the Manager announced: "Ladies and Gentlemen, dinner is served." At this point we put down our glasses and made our way into the dining room. Strictly speaking we were supposed to leave in reverse order of rank, the most junior first, and the top table officers last of all. However, since we all had equal status, apart from those on the top table, that rule was not strictly enforced at Jurby.

The PMC and one or two selected officer cadets were seated at the Top Table. Other station officers were allocated seats amongst the cadets on the wings which were placed at right angles to the top table. On the very end of one of the wings was the officer detailed as Mr Vice – the Vice President for the evening. He had special duties later on. As we made our way to our allocated seats and stood at attention behind them without grasping the chair back, the band played ‘Roast Beef of Old England', repeating it as often as necessary until the PMC had reached his seat at the centre of the top table. The PMC then banged his gavel and called for Grace to be said. One of the cadets had been given this onerous task. Humorous Graces, or even Latin graces, were permitted as long as they were not too outrageous. We then sat down and the meal began.

The meal took a long time because there were four or five courses to get through. When the final course had been eaten, the tables were cleared of everything apart from the Mess silver and one wine glass each, placed centrally in front of each diner. Stewards placed two carafes, one containing Port and the other Madeira, in front of the PMC and two more in front of the Vice President. They removed the stoppers and passed the carafes to their left, without taking any into their own glass. Any officer or cadet who did not wish to take alcohol would find that a waiter would automatically fill their glass with water. Eventually the carafes found their way, without ever touching the table top during the journey, back to the PMC and Mr Vice, who filled their own glass and then placed the carafes on the table and replaced the stoppers. All the staff then retired and the Mess Manager indicated to the PMC that everything was ready.

The PMC stood up, banged his gavel and announced in a loud voice, "Mr Vice, The Queen." Mr Vice stood up, carefully pushing his chair backwards a short distance and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, The Queen." Everyone else then stood and the band played the National Anthem. For some obscure reason, officers looking at each other across dining tables always find it difficult to keep from smiling while the National Anthem is played; to avoid this, we had been advised to stare above the head of the officer opposite and concentrate hard. When the final notes had faded, everyone picked up their glass, proclaimed, "The Queen" and sipped wine or water. It was, we were informed, absolutely forbidden to add 'God Bless Her!' at RAF formal dinners.

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