Being January and dark, wet, cold and just plain bloody miserable outside, I tend to gravitate to cooking.

The Two Fat Ladies were such a part of my life.

They define eccentricity.

Yes – they are from upper class families who’ve lived, loved, travelled, hunted, shot and fished their entire lives but they had such a wonderful way of being.

There is at least 90% of what they cook that’s not for me.

Any seafood apart from tinned tuna – NO. NO. NO.

Any offal – Heck NOOOOOO! I remember my Grandad, George, would eat heart and brains and lights (lungs) and tripe and pig’s trotters and tongue and kidneys and… Yikes.

Any game – NOPE. Still have nightmares about the time I watched George skin a rabbit. And the taste is not good to me so off the menu are venison, rabbit, pigeon, pheasant, quail, partridge, hedgehog, duck etc.

This picnic menu is pretty OK. I’m loving the idea of the Provencal bread (minus anchovies) though :o)