Still, perhaps I’m being a little too hard on poor girl. After all, it’s her enthusiasm that caused me to go out other day and buy a metal detector. I’d like to think that I’m only one to have done this, at least in my town, but regrettably, I suspect I’m in majority…

After all, I went into one of local shops on day of purchase, asking if they did indeed sell metal detectors, and this young man serving behind counter immediately asked if I’d been watching BBC 2 recently. I didn’t know how to take this. Now obviously, he’d sussed me but … well, was that good manners on his part, or just cheeky perception?

I mean, had I gone into my local branch of M & S and been caught perusing boxer shorts, I think I’d have taken umbrage, had a shop assistant inquired if I’d recently had a case of runs. I digress. Suffice to say, I felt uncomfortable, embarrassed, found out, with my BBC 2 viewing detected so instantly.

Anyway, my fiancée and I finally located one of these machines in one of nearby catalogue stores…which meant that once we had got it home, we needed to drive off out to one of nearby catalogue stores to buy some batteries, amidst much muttering.

Pleasant-ish anyway. He seems a little heavy handed with his ingredients at times -when they’re still alive- for my taste but I’m not overly worried by this. I think that’s just twinges on my part because I’m still feeling guilty about falling off vegetarian wagon. The pheasant shoot he went on recently still sticks in my throat however.

Last night, he was waxing lyrical about an upsurge in nation’s enjoyment of Cornish sardines. When called pilchards, there was no demand, no call for them. But Cornish sardines are a whole different kettle of fish entirely. (Well, no they’re not, they’re same species.) It would appear name change has added romance and flavour.

He quite often enjoys going to source of his dishes. Last night’s programme involved a trawler trip. I just wish he hadn’t pawed fish, held them aloft, whilst they were still alive. The dreadful flapping and bulging eyes were a little off-putting. I think this particular fish was wishing to god it was still called a pilchard. Less demand, more time in sea, it reasoned. Not unreasonably…

I think it’s his evident enjoyment in whole cooking experience that I find so endearing. An obvious enjoyment, whilst remaining wholly down-to-earth is a winning combination. No airs and graces, no nouvelle cuisine, just a man with a pleasant manner and a straightforward recipe.

I was still pondering this today when I came across a snippet of information regarding Jamie Oliver. In many ways, antithesis of Rick Stein. Tempting though it is, I’m not going to unleash on boy. He’s got a lisp, he’s perfect example of a mockney, but it’s all been said before. Let’s leave it. The information regarding Mr Oliver was apropos Sainsbury’s adverts he’s starred in. “Starred” here is operative word. How can someone, though undeniably a whizz in kitchen, become a personality? It seems very strange.