It’s very hard being a domestic goddess. I so sympathise with Nigella Lawson. Take last night. I came in from a drinks party, kicked off my sling backs, licked my lips, stuck out my tits and made a Christmas pudding. While it was steaming for 6 hours, I rustled up a spicy pork chop and ate it while lying down. This morning, I giggled and cleaned the kitchen floor, softly chiding myself for dropping sultanas (well, I was pissed). With peanut cracknel and pistachio fudge on my list of things to make, I’m not sure how long I can keep up this glamorous existence.