And I never really learn to cook anything apart from potatoes and my mother's macaroni cheese recipe since. Sure I can put meals together but once I crack a recipe I pretty much stick to it forever.
When we moved into our current place, my dad suggested it had enough space up the back to put in a small veggie garden.
It's like he had never met me.
I've always thought that one day I would stop buying vegetables that only suffered a long and lonely death in the vegetable tray of my fridge because I never quite found the time to slice them, dice them, julienne them, carve them into swan shapes and stuff them up exotic birds and serve to fabulous dinner guests with big linen napkins who truly believe that calling it gazpacho makes cold soup palatable.
You know? I really thought one day I'd be a grown up.
Take meat. I'm 38 and I accidentally poached chicken the other day for the very first time. And I mean accidentally - I was just throwing wine and herbs into the pan to add some flavour to the chicken and because I threw in too much wine all of a sudden the chicken cooked differently. So I consulted my baby sister and she confirmed I was practically 'Masterchef'.
I know. My poor family.
And then recently - I just bought some pre-chopped vegetables in a container, threw them in the microwave, steamed them according to the instructions on the packet and VOILA - posh veggie mix to go with the sausages. Full beef, not poached if you must know.
In a moment of clarity I have realised this is the way forward. If I just give up pretending it is ever going to be any different, that my version of adult might not include a culinary flair - I save a fortune in food that doesn't get eaten and I get to eat food I like. Quickly. With minimum effort. And I can wear non-linen napkins to boot.
Lots of steamed vegetable loveliness. With packet gravy.
PS: Even better - when you google you can find evidence to support YOUR point of view. Though there might be something in Dad's backyard veggie garden. Dammit.