So out I came into the big wide world, reliant on my mum to feed me, nurture me, help me survive.
So we started off with milk.. She probably debated the big argument of breast is best or the tinned stuff. Whatever mum chose was the right decision because I know that she's always right.
She persevered with the dribbles and the endless washing of milky bibs and sleep suits. Watching me grow and develop until I was ready to be introduced to food. Not the Michelin star herb crusted rack of lamb I like nowadays but the softer foods.. Maybe a rusk here or a little half weetabix there. Until eventually I was ready for my childhood favourite of mashed potato with boiled egg chopped through it. Yummy!
Eventually mum introduced solids and opened the door to the start of my love affair with tasty, exciting, flavourful food.
Fast forward a few years, well more than a few and here I am 34 years old. 34 years old with a dislike for 'milky things'. Foods with soft textures really disturb my senses, I sometimes feel like I'm participating in a 'I'm a celebrity get me out of here' challenge when really all it is scrambled egg.. Not the dreaded witchedy grub!
But on days like today when I arrive for my training and feel rubbish, the tables have turned. I'm wearing my comfy hoody to help me feel better. Telling anyone who'll listen how I feel "rubbish and tired and need my bed". And what is this?? Today I'm craving a cup of hot milk. Something to eat, maybe soup OR EVEN mashed potato with boiled egg?! How that would help me feel better, comforted, human again.
Maybe a hug from mum would help too.
Isn't it strange how we revert to childhood when feeling unwell.. A little vulnerable?