I was expressly forbidden to cook this evening. I had planned a mashed garlic, sprout and onion vindaloo washed down with cheap lemonade and home made sherbet. Instead, I chose to play it safe: Eight stale scotch eggs, two kilos of dried apricots and a generous handful of suet. Oh, and a chinese takeaway (an unwanted gift). All washed down with a fine bottle or two of 6 year old Beaujolais Nivea. And a digestive; two slugs of home made pea and ham Hock - a wine kit with a bit of added body curtesy of Campbells. I think the spelling might have gone awry then, but I have already pressed the submit button. Nerves have a terrible effect on the guts, don't you think?