Long before we had a national lockdown, I retreated. I’m diabetic, and the odds weren’t great. In contrast, I’m a hugely sociable man, and I need hugs and kisses and handshakes. It’s how I was brought up. Tactile family.

In the absence of those things, I posted a few photos here of my dinners in March. Hands up – I did it to feel like there were others out there. I didn’t need Likes, I needed company. Naked shamelessness.

That took on a life of its own, and I think I’ve posted 200+ breakfasts, lunches, dinners, desserts, cocktails, and so on. It very likely is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done, because it wasn’t for you, it was for me.

So, I cooked. I plated it. I took photos and posted them, and when I was eating, comments rained in, and suddenly I wasn’t alone. Lots of you were here too.

I’m always conflicted. Who cares about some wanker who does Instagram on Twitter? Then, occasionally, I get a DM here that troubles me. From people who find this really, really hard.

So, all I’ll say is, put a shape on your day. Set a target. Do something that makes you happy.
I know how trite this sounds to many, but if you even can find 30 minutes to have a bath, or ten minutes to sing, or a minute to look in the mirror, take it. Anything to get through.

I still, by the way, hate you all for giving more Likes to a takeaway dinner than for anything I cooked. Tough crowd.