In this 21st century world of ours, there isn’t a ‘normal’ family set up anymore. In fact, me, my wife and three daughters are probably in the minority (although 2 of our daughters were born out of wedlock – oh, the shame!).

Most of our daughters’ friends, although seemingly unaffected, are members of families that have half-sisters and half-brothers, step-fathers and step-mothers. And that’s just the straightforward ones. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with this – life just deals a hand and you have to get on with it.

Society adapts to these various situations (sometimes at the expense of too much political correctness). Schools have to address letters to ‘Parents/Carers’ instead of ‘Parents’; same sex couples are just as entitled to adopt children as heterosexual couples.

A female friend told me the other day that she had left her husband to set up home with another man. It wasn’t long before she fell pregnant by him. She fretted how she was going to tell her husband – so she sent him a card.

I didn’t know they did them in Clintons but maybe they do these days.

I love you. I will always forever be in your debt.

I can’ t tell you how much this means to me. You’ve saved my life. Without you, I’d be nothing.

I know now that if I ever go overdrawn it’ll be ok because you’re there to bail me out.

You’re my southern, eastern, western and Northern Rock.

I love cooking. I cook almost every night even if it is only something simple. I like to sort everyone else out first then the kitchen is mine. There I am, pottering around, chopping a chilli, slicing an onion, crushing a garlic glove, grating a lemon. I’m not taking the pith by the way.

I find the whole thing therapeutic. Ok, ok, the odd glass of wine or two (three!) helps. I often wonder though whether I could do it as a profession. I cook for friends and family but could I deal with the pressure of a commercial kitchen?

I’ve been watching the current Masterchef series and can see how hot, sweaty and pressurised it all gets.

I have thought about entering. If I ever did get through to the first rounds you wouldn’t see me in a panic. Oh no. A few chops here, a few slices there, as sprinkle or two then straight in the oven.

The rest of the 45 minutes I’d spend drinking my wine and watching Masterchef on the portable. Imagine John and Greg. They’d be mortified.

By the way, if you want one of my recipes let me know.

The only illegal drug I’ve ever taken is cannabis. And cannabis.

It’s supposed to affect your short-term memory loss.

And another thing – it affects your short term memory.

But that’s all.