On Porridge and Punishment.

I decided to step into the void and have an adventure today. Instead of having the usual pastry with my coffee in Costa, I had a small pot of porridge instead. What’s even more outlandish is that I used the excess cream in the pot I ordered with my coffee to pour onto the porridge. I did think of asking permission to do that, since the improper use of cream might have attracted dire retribution from the serving wenches, or at least harsh stares and sibilant whispers, but I decided to be the devil that I’m not and just do it anyway. I even sprinkled sugar on the whole confection. It was the most exciting thing I’ve done in years (that’s if you exclude six-hour operations, frequent cystoscopies and several CT scans.) Should this make me sad, I wonder?

And talking of retribution, I had a lapse of concentration today which resulted in the back end of my car making contact with a steel rail. It was a fairly light contact, but enough to break part of the plastic cover on one of the tail lights. I felt stupid and angry with myself, and when I feel stupid and angry with myself I proceed to feel guilty, and when I feel guilty I become mildly consumed with the expectation of punishment. That’s because I was punished for mistakes and misdemeanours quite a lot as a child – sometimes even for things I didn’t do or which weren’t my fault – and the expectation of punishment becomes ingrained after a while and never fully goes. I apologised to the car, of course, but sometimes an apology just isn’t enough.

And then tonight I watched the penultimate episode of Series 2 of Broadchurch. The last words before the credits rolled came from the Clerk of the Court who asked the jury foreperson: ‘Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?’ The defendant’s face filled the screen…

I think today’s theme must be obvious by now.