By the time you’re thirty, you’ve eaten your fair share of porridge. Porridge, as you know, is a poor man’s food. It’s the sort of stuff you eat and think about Charles Dickens and debtors’ prison and orphans in Old England. It’s not the sort of thing you serve your house guests unless you are a poor college student or you are seven years old and don’t know how to make anything else.
Porridge is just oatmeal. It comes in bulk, in canisters, in mini packets, or from Starbucks. It’s healthy for you, but it’s not really fancy. Now if you’re buying your porridge from Starbucks, you probably have more money than the majority of people who consume porridge, because real poor people wouldn’t go to Starbucks. But that’s ok, because perhaps that means that porridge is a universal food. It’s for everyone: it’s the food that brings equality among people of different race, gender, and socio-economic status. Thus, it’s good food. I think that perhaps I’m going to eat porridge for my birthday breakfast, to honor this symbol of equality.
Tata for now.