Snappy September - Day Twenty Seven - Putrid Porridge
Like most people older than Justin Beiber, I'm on Facebook.
I don't play poker, send virtual flowers or win baby foals on Farmville, but I'll admit to enjoying reading about what everyone else is up to.
I'll also admit to reconnecting with more friends than I'd ever be able to do in real life and defend my willingness to do so in this soulless, technological age of constant communication versus declining face-to-face interaction by saying that in one application I can see what 150 people that I like are up to and that's a helluva lot easier than enduring the mindless agony and boredom of hand-writing 150 Christmas cards (or receiving them, especially with those photocopied 'Dear whoever' annual summaries inside) or trying to visit around 150 different locations.
Whilst I'm in a confessional state of mind, I'll also tell you that you're free to be my Facebook friend. Hey, if you're here reading my writing, then I'm honestly really pleased, flattered and not a little proud that you are, and I'd gladly want to have a coffee with you in real life or cyberspace. I've got nothing to hide other than my naked body and even bits of that has made it onto this blog of late.
Okay. Facebook. I'll post an update every now and then, but it amused me recently that the one that got the greatest response - 2 'likes' and twenty six written comments - was one about porridge.
I wrote: 'Katherine Lockett (yeah it's my full name on FB) believes that porridge is just God's own vomit and should be banned from being considered a breakfast food!'
The sentiment expressed was true. I know that porridge is considered a superfood and has a low glycaemic index and no fat and some kind of amazing ability to soak up scary things like carcinogens and cholesterol and low self esteem and instead provide the wise eater with wisdom, long lasting energy and an enviable sense of style but it tastes like lumpy clag to me.
John is Scottish and used his heritage as an argument: "That's no' how you make porridge. You have it with salt. My grandfather used to pour the leftovers into a drawer and eat the hardened stuff later on for lunch."
Katie tried to sell it as a convenience food: "It's soft and mushy, so I don't have to be very awake to eat it, unlike muesli which is just hard work."
Carmel tried to sweeten the blow by suggesting that I should "Just add chocolate and stir." Little does she know I've tried that many a time (also with meusli - add a few chocolate chips to the general nuts and bolts in there so that all that time spent chewing has the occasional bright spot).
Two correspondents went so far as to say that porridge for breakfast 'rocks' (hello Simon and Paul) and six friends said they 'love' it. Yes, they went on a public forum and said loudly and proudly that they love love LOVE it - Lynda, Jill, Wah Chin, Karen, Paula and Lucy - really? You love it?
Mostly though, the comments gave me ways to disguise the texture and taste of God's vomit - blueberries, rosehip jelly, honey, flavoured sachets, yoghurt, cinnamon and sultanas.
Dear, sweet, intelligent and full-of-empathy Angus said it best: "If it WAS actually God's own vomit you could sell it on eBay to any number of US casinos for a lot of money. But yes, given the choice between eating porridge and eating my own rancid faeces, I'd have to think it over carefully." He's a karate black belt too, so don't you dare argue.
I'll keep trying though. *sigh*