Once upon a time, there were three bears. Let’s call them Mummy Bear, Daddy Bear and Baby Bear. They had a happy little dwelling in a soup café, on Forrest Road. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Union of Genius. Charming place. You should pop in some time.
Anyway, the three bears liked porridge. They needed oats, shall we say, especially around Oat O’clock, which is approximately 9am, human time.
Now, these bears were very particular about their porridge. Each bear had his or her own preference when it came to toppings. None of the bears was interested in honey. ‘Pooh to honey,’ they chorused, acknowledging the wry pun.
Daddy Bear liked his porridge with dried fruit, like cranberries and sultanas, a splash of cream and a sprinkling of Splenda. Baby Bear turned her nose up at the Splenda. ‘Yuck,’ she said, ‘fake sugar. Yuck.’
Mummy Bear liked her porridge drowning in cream and sporting a deep golden brown tan from a truckload of muscovado sugar. Some would have commented that there was more of an emphasis on the cream and sugar, with a hint of porridge on the side, than the other way round. But not Baby Bear. Baby Bear wholeheartedly approved of the liberal use of cream and sugar. ‘Yum,’ she said, patting her little bear paws together, ‘yum yum yum.’
Baby Bear liked her porridge with a little blob of raspberry jam, ‘for the colour.’ Secretly though, Baby Bear resented the lack of bacon available for her porridge. But sometimes, if she was a good bear, Mummy Bear would let her have bacon – as well as porridge – on a Friday. Let’s just say, it worked very well as an incentive for good behaviour during the week.
