There it sat. Looking satin smooth on top, but secretly harboring just beneath the surface,
large glutinous lumps. Lumps that stuck in your throat making you gag as they went down, for
down they must go, or you would receive the lecture about "starving children who had NOTHING to
eat" in other parts of the world. Well, they wouldn't WANT to eat this I would mumble under my
breath.
Subtle and not so subtle methods of hiding those globs of goo were tried. Pretending I had
swallowed them, then quickly disposing of them in a paper napkin worked sometimes. Best of all
was discreetly placing them under the bowl where they wouldn't be found until I had left for
school. By then it would be too late for the lecture. But mostly it was gagging down the lumps as
quickly as I could with a large spoonful of milk to help them along.
It wasn't until I was married and learning to cook, I found out that porridge is really a
wonderfully satisfying breakfast when you know how to cook it! Looking satin smooth on top,
covered with brown sugar and milk, it appeased your hunger and became a comfort food on cold,
blustery mornings.
There are times when I cook it just to look back with a smile and see that small child sitting on
her chair, wondering how she can hide those lumps.
Lunchtime, when everyone settled more comfortably into their desks. Amidst the rustling
of paper bags being opened, metal lunch boxes being clanged and giggles not having to be
constantly suppressed, I quietly spread my sandwiches inside the lunch box where they could not be
easily seen.
Being near the end of the month, Gran is expertly spinning out the last few pennies, waiting for
the monthly Mothers Allowance cheque. For me, this meant cold potato sandwiches were the menu
of the day.
Now I didn't mind cold potato sandwiches. Sprinkled with salt and pepper, nestled between
slices of toasted cold white bread, they were filling; but not the kind of sandwich you traded with the
other girls.
"Yeecchh, what's that you're eating?" Whispering behind their hands, laughing at me for
being so poor I had to eat this horrible concoction while they had dainty, crusts removed egg, meat or
jam sandwiches.
After my first explanation, I never explained again. It was too painful, so I just sat there eating
cold potato sandwiches that had been made with love, but with total oblivion as to what transpired
during those lunch times. The fact that they were carefully wrapped in saved Wonder Bread
waxed paper not the pristine waxed paper that came in its own box didn't help either.
The girls didn't mind sharing my Marmalade Cookies though. Because our oven did not have
an element that worked on the bottom, baking anything other than cookies and single pie crusts
was out of the question, but cake batter mixed with Marmalade made deliciously moist, tasty
cookies. In exchange I would get cookies with icing on them or perhaps even crisp peanut butter
ones. How I loved peanut butter cookies. Still do.
Years later when packing lunches for my own girls; sandwiches that might be tuna or salmon
with chopped celery, chicken or some other kind of meat, plus carrot or celery sticks and peanut
butter cookies, there would sometimes be a pause when ripping off that pristine waxed paper. Back
through the years my mind would travel and I would remember with a smile now, that long ago time
when cold potato sandwiches and marmalade cookies meant Gran was spinning her last few
pennies to reach the months end.
