James Marston: Blood, sweat and tears - another night of entertaining

Mary Berry at home

Mary Berry at home - Credit: BBC

It’s a little bit funny this feeling inside when you finally shake off the Sunday morning hangover.

This week, dear readers, I wasn’t well after slurping three of four too many pre and post dinner gins. I was cooking a dinner for a select four and rather embarrassingly over imbibed before and during a recipe for medallions of pork in a Dijon mustard sauce with a watercress garnish.

Unfortunately I forgot the Dijon mustard and the garnish so we had pork and cream instead – no one said anything and the veg was nice.

But its hard work entertaining isn’t it?

Especially now you can’t go out and buy a bought lasagne and pass it off as your own what with all this talk about dodgy food from all over the place.

And with the price of everything you need to take out a mortgage to buy a full and comprehensive cheese board, my guests had to make do with a Camembert.

Anyway, mustard and gin aside, I enjoyed myself and have discovered I quite like slaving over a glowing induction hob wondering if it is really working properly in a blind panic with a wooden spoon while worrying if everyone has got a drink.

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I have yet to bake a cake - I haven’t got a sponge tin – and I’m that busy during the evenings I’m not sure I could commit to a Mary Berry evening though I have made a few cheese scones recently.

But that’s enough about food and drink.

This week I’ve got a lot on raging from swimming, Felixstowe community choir, the mayor’s quiz and the birthday of my friend Liz, who works in the dark arts of PR and enjoys sherry, who is hosting a meal in the ancient medieval town of Bury St Edmunds.

I shall hardly be in my small Felixstowe flat with sea views (distant) to get any dusting done.

Added to all this rushing about it’s time I popped along to my beach chalet and tidied up for the spring and summer.

I also need to buy some furniture as I have turned my small study into a small second bedroom with no bed yet and no thought given to soft lighting.

But finding the time to do anything is becoming impossible. I don’t know why but life is suddenly frantic, I barely have time to think.

I’ll soon be forced to buy a microwave and cook horse.