Today started well! We woke up late, we laid in, just chilled out and it was perfect, well it was until I tried to make myself some breakfast, but it’s no use crying over spilt porridge!
Yes, a lovely start to the day, but things quickly took a downward turn once I was up, dressed and in the kitchen.
It was gone 11am by the time Donna had helped me shower and we were ready to exit the bedroom when I suggested porridge for breakfast, but Donna wasn’t keen and so I decided I could take care of that myself!?
I grabbed a medium size saucepan, added the rolled oats and milk, grabbed a bowl and spoon ready and turned on the gas on the hob and was really looking forward to eating my porridge.
Our kitchen is not accessible and that makes it awkward and then throw in my knackered body and tasks become difficult and dangerous. In the past I have spilt boiling water on my legs making a cuppa and burnt my legs again by trying to be helpful and taking a hot baking tray out of the oven, yes remembering to use oven gloves but then placing the baking tray on my legs whilst wearing shorts!
So it is not a surprise when I tell you that I no longer cook and I hate that because although I was no
Gordon Ramsey, no forget him, I was no Gino D’Acampo, I enjoyed cooking a meal and loved to bake and so losing that was horrible.
But this morning I was going to do the most basic of things and make a bowl of porridge, I mean, I can do that right?
Using a wooden cooking doodah (technical term) I stirred the porridge and …
I am actually not sure what I did? But I did something and the saucepan left the hob and tipped onto my lap, a natural reaction was to throw it off of my legs and it landed back on the hob!
I am so, so lucky!
It hadn’t yet become hot, in fact it was barely to the warm stage, and so I escaped injury.
I was however sat there with milk and oats over my lap, my legs, my wheelchair the kitchen floor, hob and the worktop didn’t escape the porridge shower.
I admit I may have released a slightly childlike scream initially as my brain screamed “HOT” and then a torrent of expletives poured out of my mouth and that sent my wife running into the kitchen to see what was going on.
I tried to help clear up the mess that looked like a porridge hand grenade had been thrown through the window but I was firmly told to just get out and so after getting the oats off of my lap and chair so I didn’t trail them through the house, I went and changed.
In the grand scheme of things, it isn’t much. I haven’t been injured, nothing was broken, and yet to me, it was massive. I think many of us fool ourselves that we can still do these things and we get comfort from that, but the harsh truth is that we have lost our independence and we are likely to never gain the level of independence we once had forever!
Another thing that has got to me over this is the wastage! When you have very little money, food is precious, and even something as simple and cheap as oats and milk. It was the last of the porridge oats and I ended up decorating the kitchen with them and now I can’t have porridge and it’s porridge season!
But there is no use crying over spilt porridge!