The meal was a complete disaster. I should never have volunteered to bring food that I had cooked at my own house to JS’s flat to serve to my book group companions.

Somehow in transit the pork chop suey had toughened into a chewy, flavourless stew, and the little fruit puddings (admittedly found at the bottom of my mother’s fridge) were absolutely revolting. In addition it all took an age to serve – so much so that everyone else had finished and cleared the table by the time that I was ready to eat myself.