I have never been sure of myself in the kitchen. Experimentation is only for solo flights, never anything to serve (as if in my wildest nightmares I cooked for more than four, the two of us, and at a stretch two more). We have a lot of one-dish-meals with a salad.

Additionally, there’s dishes. My mother and I used to sit in the middle of the living room floor and play Crazy-8s to see who had to do the supper dishes. It would start with one game, but no matter who lost, that always changed to 2 out of 3, or even best 3 of 5. Sometimes it would become a little ridiculous, even to us. Still, I have always looked at that particular chore with dread, and having a dish washer does nothing to change the mind set.

Small wonder we eat out a lot.