I seem to be the only person in the western world who doesn’t want to become a brilliant chef. Cooking is a chore. I don’t want to become a better cook, I want to find someone who’ll do it all for me. Don’t tell me about your red wine jus, your incredible sorbet or your herbed fish, serve it up for me and shut up. Meanwhile I make the same boring old dishes for my kids. I’m a monster of the mash, a demon of the Deb, a shaman of the sauce bottle, a goddess of the grilled chop, a soothsayer of stir fry, a magician with mince. The only thing I have in common with Nigella is that my ex husband tried to choke me too. Where’s a good looking chef when you need one?