Pot Noodles are my true love because I don’t have to cook them. I have a ritual: take one pot noodle, add a teaspoon of chilli flakes and half of salt, plus all the seasoning it comes with.
How my parents are in the kitchen is a good indicator of their parenting style. Mum cooks for sustenance, wants to get in and out, the job done quickly. My Dad wants to prance around in the kitchen, create a curry - and a mess - and entertain everyone.
When I get back from a mid-morning stroll, I’ll do some writing then I’ll typically spend the day testing new recipes.
I spent a lot of time with extended family when I was young. Every weekend, Dad would buy half a sheep and Mum would cook for about 50 people, and we would all eat on the couch, in the kitchen, spilling out into the garden.
I feel like there’s a dignity in silence and I think if I retaliate to negativity with negativity then we’ve evened out. And I don’t need to even that out because if somebody’s being negative, I need to be the better person.
If I break my finger, I go to accident and emergency. If I have a cold, I go to the pharmacy. If I'm broken inside, where do I go? So, to help myself heal, I felt the best way to do this would be to talk, to share and to better understand what it is that I have.
