All-Bran + chopped dates = surprisingly good.
I don’t know what’s in New Zealand milk but it gives everything a hint of toffee. (Maybe I’m just having a lengthy stroke.)
Side note, I’m a legitimate human being again: new phone number, new bank account, new temporary job. Now all I need is a house, a garden and a cat. Maybe a chef. And a bartender. And an orchard. And the house needs to be on a cold, but sunny, cliff by the sea with a rough path leading you through shoulder-high plants towards a desolate and temperamental beach. Where is that?