I was a good old housewife in my day.

Back when I was 21.

In a long term relationship, in a house, with the guy from the long term relationship I mentioned earlier, things were all very domestic. We did chores in our little house. He mowed the lawns, I hung out the laundry, and when dinner time rolled around, we cooked.

I remember those halcyon days in the kitchen - I made pasta, pies, brownies, cakes, baked our own bread, and even toasted our own homemade muesli.

It was just precious, let me tell you.

It was. And then we broke up. And I was out on my own, for the first time in my life.

Canned goods, noodles, oatmeal and toast were suddenly all that stood between me and certain starvation.

I had basically turned into a bachelor. Without a penis.

You couldn't get me to cook for anything. Why would I? I was on my own, and I refused to go to all that effort just for little old me. The preparation, the actual cooking, and THEN the clean up? Bugger that.

I'd like to say this was but a short period of my life, before I re-grew up, and remembered the importance of a balanced diet.

That would be a lie.

I lived with varying iterations on this menu for two entire years. I threw in some broccoli here and there, introduced the magical 'baked potato' after I rang mum for microwave cooking instructions, but it was generally pretty dire.

Of course, if I felt like things were getting a little too ridiculous - well, that's what 'eating out' was invented for.

I needed an intervention. I needed my mummy.

So I came home. Well, that makes it sound like the sole reason I came home. If that was the case, you're probably imagining me lying in the corner of my derelict apartment surrounded with empty Snickers wrappers and a can of cold baked beans gripped in my near-dead hand. It wasn't that bad. Well. I wasn't that much of an animal. I still heated the beans.

So, yeah, I came home. Home to my mum's home cooking. Which is, just to give you a point of reference, better than your mum's cooking.

But things had changed. Yes, I may have been staying in my childhood bed with my stuffed toy collection, but I'm an adult now.

And mum wanted me to pull my weight like an adult would.

She wanted me to help with the cooking.

Whoa. Bet you didn't see that one coming. I didn't.

You know what else I didn't see coming? If you don't cook anything for anyone for two years, you actually forget how to do it.

I was better wife material at 21 than I am at 25. Disappointing. Not for me - for my future husband. Sucks to be you buddy!

Anyhoo - I'm trying to get better. Look - I made a stew and everything: