I hate porridge.
I’ve always hated porridge.
When I was a kid, my mother used to insist that I eat porridge for breakfast. So I used to get up early every morning, before my mother got up, make the porridge in the saucepan, put it in the bowl, add the milk, and scrape it down an outside drain in the yard. The messy saucepan, bowl & spoon would convince my mother I’d eaten the porridge. Of course, I was rarely late for school as a consequence, which is how much I hated porridge. There is nothing that can added to porridge that actually makes it nice.
So the fact I now eat porridge 6 mornings a week for energy for swimming, does not fill me with joy.