As someone who structures their day entirely around food: what to have for breakfast: eggs and bacon if it’s a real weekend feasting or granola if I’m pretending to be classy, then a mid morning summin’ summin’, nicely interspersed with many a coffee bought from sexy barista A – which I absolutely cannot afford – and then culminating in the pinnacle of the day, lunch / dinner and lastly DESSERT, but I’ve had absolutely no appetite this week.

This may seem like an unusual hill to die on. But somehow, lying out in the garden, eating a fluffy loaf of white bread with pots of humous everyone is tucking into, but no one can quite remember who brought, drinking G&T’s and anticipating the moment when the sun will set and it gets too cold to stand being outdoors in early March, it was where we chose to lie.

Does anyone actually have a healthy relationship with food? I wouldn’t say I’m in a toxic relationship with food… more like, food is my mistress and I’m being infrequently ghosted, but bread crumbed along enough with a series of memes/ late night phone calls/ semi interesting articles to maintain my interest.

Looking up at the pretty Italian lady whose mouth these words of wisdom had fallen out of, my legs splayed, flat on my back, the basketball flood lights shining into my eyes, I couldn’t help wonder if I might have made a mistake.