I'm stirring my porridge this morning with that most traditional of utensils, a wooden spoon. However this morning it seems bigger than normal, heavy in the pan with the memory of yesterday's fifth Scottish defeat in a row in this years six nation's rugby championship. You could argue that they played well enough in their first three games, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, but in the last two games they were lacklustre, playing like folk who don't put salt in their porridge and add insult to injury by smothering it with syrup.
It wouldn't have happened with my Stuart hero, Robert, in charge as captain of the Scottish team. He has a reputation for at least winning against the Auld Enemy and usually France too, keeping the eponymous utensil out of Scotland's cutlery drawer. Well, there's always next year and there might be a new coach so hope springs eternal in the tartan heart.