My name is not Earl

Only Murray and the Tanners need to read the following bit. There is a programme on Channel 4 at the moment called 'My name is Earl'. Earl re-visits all the crimes he has committed and tries to redeem himself by 'undoing' them. It got me to thinking about the bad things I've done.

In the spirit of Earl, I thought if I own up to them now I may get some respite from my pricking conscience. This has nothing to do with the fact that Mummeh has limited internet access at the moment.

As you may have gathered my first admitted crime was against Mummeh.

When I was very young Mummeh used to serve porridge on Winter mornings. I hated porridge. It made me retch, gip and heave. None of this cut any ice with Mummeh who quite rightly explained that I had to eat what was put in front of me. I really didn't want to leave the porridge. Leaving it made for a worse outcome. If you left your porridge at breakfast time it would be re-served cold, solid and unyielding at tea time when the rest of the family were eating a hot meal.

Eventually I hit upon a solution for the porridge. I couldn't put it in the bin as it would be detected there but I could scrape it into my wellies. Which is what I did, planning to empty the wellies at a later date.

I forgot of course, right up to the first wet day when I had to wear my wellies to school.

As I put my foot in my first welly I wondered what it was squeezing through my toes. Even once I had realised I just had to brazen it out as Mummeh was in the kitchen.

At school I withdrew my feet to find they were encased in green, furry porridge.

My refusal to explain to the teacher what had happened (I thought she might tell Mummeh) ensured that I spent a Winter's day at school in bare feet with the prospect of putting the socks and wellies on again at the end of the day.

My name is not Earl and I used to hide my porridge in my wellies.

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