How does one eats their oats??/
I was a scrawny, mousey kind of kid with one little blond colick that stuck straight ;up on my head(from a birth mark on my scalp).
Yes, a rather insignificant toddler, who was taught somewhere en route that it was NB to be”tough”, so I had to think tough and I was going to tougher than my establishment.
It all started at the breakfast table as I recall, with oatmeal porridge .
My Scottish father with Presbyterian piety would say as he scooped the hot steaming stuff into my bowl. “lass this is God’s Foood.”
The cigar, stuck in the corner of his mouth ( a major paradox to his piety) & the table, set, not with a cloth but a newspaper(so you could read while you ate). Go figure.(it was yesterdays). to be continued