Cookery has long perplexed me, there was some reassuring listening to Ruth Reichl’s tales of her mum’s cooking. Myself and my son just roared laughing at this. So it had two listening innings. Three in fact. One where I described it to him, and he insisted, but let’s find it, I want to hear it and he hunted, bless him and he found it and we listened again. Intergenerational to intergenerational. Pass it along.

This evening I cooked yet another disastrous stirfry that smoke rose up from alarmingly and polluted the place. But it was comforting against the backdrop of those sceals. Some made to cook, others made to eat and disaster.

Here it is