I went to a barbecue today, which is no amazing thing (although spelling barbecue is, for some reason, one of those words that I should not even attempt to spell). Our hosts had a gas barbecue (something I have always been very sceptical of – it’s not real barbecue cooking, is it?). Well, I’ll eat my words (as well as much of the food). It was marvellous, although I doubt I will convert. There is something strangely masculine about fighting with coals rather than turning the gas on.
I suspect my life is turning into a bad episode of an Australian soap opera, for I am constantly saying we should have a barbecue. I am becoming obsessed. Yesterday it was kebabs on the barbie. Today, burgers. Or is it just a sign of summer? G’day.