I was abused from an early age by having to eat lumpy porridge. It has left its mark and no psychologist or therapist has given me any insight into how this continues to shape me into the present dysfunctional personae, still grappling with life so fraught with fits of uncertainty as to its real meaning or purpose.(Phew)
The weeks just prior and after the end of WW 2, Holland was on its knees. Oats, Biscuits and Spam was fought over by people running towards the US, Canadian and English Lancaster bombers overhead, dropping food parcels. I remember my dad running on a field towards one and bringing home a huge metal box with rock hard but very nutritious English biscuits. The sky was dark with food being parachuted , raining down on Rotterdam. How glorious a liberation it was! Dancing in the streets.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operations_Manna_and_Chowhound
Despite the biscuits saving us from starvation, I still remember being very churlish about having to eat porridge with lumps and preferred the biscuits soaked in water. It was years later, when ‘easy oats’ came into being that could be cooked with milk without resulting in uneatable lumps. The porridge cooked by my mum then became silky smooth and with the Golden Syrup was delicious, a real delectable food. Even so, I have hardly touched porridge ever since. The lumps left their mark. That’s what a war does to you.
Walking around, pondering and practising a pensive thought or two is now a well earned pastime in advancing years together with offering adages and words probably so wasted on the much better informed. Together with Helvi and Milo, I traipse through our town forever hoping to find solutions to life and purpose. How this can be found by walking with a dog, hand-scooping his toilet habits in plastic bags, and drinking a latte in between is questionable but probably as good as studying Plato or taking Prozac.
But going back to lumpy porridge and hunger, we are surprised how much food can now be found just on the streets and parks. A half eaten hamburger here, bags of chips there. I sometimes, much to the horror of Helvi, lift a lid on public rubbish bins to see what has been discarded, much the same as I am curious about peoples washings on the line. Don’t ask, why? There is no hope. There is so much that can be gleaned from washing lines. Is the husband an office worker or tradesman? Are there children? How lithe and slim (or large) are they? What are the favourite colours etc. (Even that little joy is getting less with so many now lazy and using a cloth-drier).
But for discarded food…Only last week an entire ‘meat lover’s’ pizza in its specially designed aerated box was thrown out in the bin. Half full drink bottles, chips, steaks, even calamari rings, all gets thrown out.
It is nice to know that if ever I became destitute and homeless, food will not be a problem. I could probably make a living as well from sitting near a supermarket with Milo at my side, a cap with a few coins next to him and holding up a sign. “Help, I have still not found the purpose of life.”
There is hope where there is life!
lindyp said:
I remember lumpy porridge very well , and the rest of my poor mother’s awful cooking .But I LOVED school custard -in the days of school dinners in the north of England. Dreadful dinners ,lumpy mash, tasteless blah etc. but the custard was to die for -thick and hot and yum !
Yes I do the same with people’s shopping trolleys while I’m standing in the queue-I go through them in my mind -what sort of families are they -are there healthy items in there-what sort of pets do they have -hope they havn’t got a poor dog tied up outside ! Why haven’t they got bags with them for shopping -etc. Do they really need that much meat in their trolley !
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gerard oosterman said:
There used to be a bloke near David Jones who was sleeping rough. He held up a sign blaming his misfortune on the Family Court and asked for help. He was quite corpulent and also reading The Financial Review which kind of dented the impression of being down on his luck.
Even so, we should care for those people just the same. I dropped him a couple of bob.
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Big M said:
Yes, Viv, in most big cities the homeless often have quite a reasonable diet, as so much fresh food is tossed into the bin, completely encapsulated in it’s wrapping. Don’t know why people by food that they don’t want.
Also don’t understand why people don’t compost. Why does that stuff even find it’s way into the council bin?
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vivienne29 said:
I’ve never bought any take-away that I didn’t eat. But then I am very discerning and don’t buy much as I can always do better at home myself ! But walking around the streets eating take-away is so yuk. Even at Henty Field Day we sit down and eat it. Oh, except for a gelato I bought – no seating there and I think eating icecream cone is okay and always has been.
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algernon1 said:
I wouldn’t like to live like that though. There are plenty of them near work under the Western Distributor all seem to have their own space and community.
There’s plenty of waste in supermarket bins as well.
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vivienne29 said:
It is appalling – not the lumpy porridge – the food thrown away into public bins !
I’m just back from walking Lola (bit late but had to go into town first) and I leave her poo on the side of our gravel road. Horse riders use our road a lot and they never pick up the buckets of poo they leave. It all eventually turns to mulch.
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