I’m a fan of Nigella and am saddened to read about her messy divorce in the Guardian newspaper.
So I write an Email from Me to Me along the lines of “blessings to Nigella” and that yes she’s right: the world’s problems can be solved with chocolate. In my manic state, half of me believes that the Government are listening in on my emails and so should forward it on to the right place.
The very next day I receive a phone call direct to my desk phone at work. This is an unusual occurrence, particularly given that it’s a woman wanting assistance with her computer. I’m convinced it’s Nigella. I give her my mobile phone number and hope and pray that she will phone me back. She never does.