The other evening I arrived home from a long, difficult day at work to find my husband skipping around the kitchen in chef's whites and an apron clearly pretending to be Gordon Ramsay....
He calls cooking 'therapy'. I call it torture. Which is why I never do any cooking if I can help it.
Yes, I am an incredibly lucky person in that I have a husband who can produce this (on a complete whim due to the fact that he'd gone and bought himself a new cookery book):
Spicy tomato soup and crusty bread. And that was just the starter.
This was the main course:
We were meant to have sticky toffee pudding for pudding, but we were both too full to eat after all that so they will be for another day.