This week I'm housesitting at my folks place while they're sunning themselves on the opposite side of Australia in Port Douglas.
I hope they're having fun, because this morning I know I wasn't.
As I fossicked around for some brekkie I found a packet of muesli.
Great! I thought, I love muesli in the morning! In fact, it comes a close second to a beautiful fruit salad. Oats, and raisins, and nuts...
And as I poured a bowl of the stuff along with some milk I grabbed a spoon and shoved a whole wad of it in my mouth.
It wasn't until I had taken my second spoonful that the overbearing flavour of the milk began to wane and the real taste of the muesli came through.
"YUK!" I spat, "Oh, this is gross."
And it was then that I remember the good ol' days when my father used to make us breakfast when we were kids. He cared a lot about our health, and made sure we had the best start to the day by eating a proper breakfast.
And he did this by making us a homebrew muesli.
It was breakfast any horse or bird would KILL for, but as for human consumption we found it terribly difficult to swallow.
Even after much complaining and groaning we still had to suffer through his breakfast day in and day out.
We even tried a few fake sickies, but that didn't work. We tried harder by dispersing the food all along the bowl to make it seem as though we only had a little bit left and we could therefore be dismissed, but even that didn't work. We even tried putting some up our sleeves, but when you wear pyjamas that don't have sleeves it was an extremely difficult con to pull.
If there was a way to escape my father's muesli in the morning it was tried... and all failed.
"By eating this you'll be giving your bodies the best start to the day," he would often remind us, "because you know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"
"But this is bird food," I whined aloud one day.
"And you don't see any sick birds flying around do you son?" he quickly retorted sounding a little too cut-and-pastish as though he'd prepared for that answer years ago.
It was pointless arguing against the man.
We ate our muesli. And as we grew up we would always take up an invite to stay at a friends place for a sleep over knowing that in the morning we wouldn't have to eat ol' father's muesli.
Instead we feasted on the triple-chocolate-coated-funny-coloured-sugar-bomb-breakfast-of-champions cereal that everyone else ate.
That stuff was amazing... it could make any normal healthy child a diabetic within minutes!!
In fact, I understood why Phar Lap was such a fast horse... he was given the breakfast-of-champions!
Not the breakfast of birds.
So, this morning, when I tasted a few mouthfuls of the muesli my folk's had stored in their pantry it reminded me of those horrid days.
And if my father happens to ask what I thought of that meusli when he comes back I'll say...
"It didn't last long!"
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