By Erwin James
So porridge is no longer on the menu in British prisons. A sad day for old lags for sure. How we loved to queue on cold winter mornings in anticipation of a large steaming ladle of the stuff. And on warm summer mornings too, of course.
In fact every single day of the year the one thing that could be guaranteed in an often bleak and uncertain existence was that porridge would be served for breakfast. "No matter what happens, lads, at least we've got porridge!"