I’ve always enjoyed making cakes. When I was young I was appointed chief cake maker by my mother; she was a great plain cook- a master of the roast dinner – but had little enthusiasm for the sweet stuff. As a teenager on a permanent diet, I took vicarious pleasure from seeing grateful family members wolf down generous portions of chocolate cake, whilst I nibbled on a couple of hard boiled eggs, or whatever the latest miracle food for weight loss was that day.

When I left home for college, I joined a cookery book club. This raised a few eyebrows, when copies of the latest Good Housekeeping Cookery Book arrived alongside the Penguin Collection of Absurd Drama and Improvisation: A Guide.

When my sister was diagnosed with Coeliac disease, I was happy to devise gluten free alternatives to her favourite treats, and this nurturing with food continued joyfully, when I became what was then classed as a ‘geriatric mother’ at the age of 42. Even after my son left home, I happily continued to supply his food, courtesy of the very obliging Hermes Next Day parcel delivery service.

The advent of arthritis did not dampen my enthusiasm for rustling up a tasty treat. My lack of mobility was not a hindrance in the kitchen, and food proved a great way of taking my mind off the increasing pain in my hip.

I had been delighted to learn in February 2020, that I had been given the go ahead for a hip replacement operation, to take place in early May. I looked forward excitedly to being mobile and pain free once more. Then, on the 23rd March 2020, the unseen threat of a microscopic virus forced the entire population of the British Isles to retreat indoors to the safety of their own four walls.

We must stay at home to save lives.

With my operation cancelled – and with renewed uncertainty about my future health prospects – I rushed to embrace the sanctuary of the kitchen. This became my safe place, where I could continue to nurture my family from afar, as I tried out new recipes for them to enjoy. The more shocking the news from outside, the more I found respite in the creation of culinary delights, to banish troubling thoughts and soothe my soul. After eight weeks in our communal quarantine, I started to sense my life entering a new phase . The lockdown was partially lifted. Social distancing was the new norm, mask wearing optional – except in shops and on buses .

I experienced a rekindling of hope, when there was an announcement that all routine operations were to be resumed, although no one knew exactly when. A glance at the scales tells me I now need to concentrate on preparing myself once more for this life-enhancing procedure. There is a new phenomenon in town – the Quarantine Fifteen, a reference to the excess weight many of us are predicted to have gained during the lockdown period. So I’m bidding a fond farewell ( for the time being at least!) to the Bakewell Tart and the Gin and Tonic Lemon Drizzle cake.I’ve dusted down the juicer, and opened up the healthy eating cookery book. This book promises guilt free baking. My next foray into the kitchen will tell if the recipe for courgette and pumpkin seed muffins hits enough of the sweet spot, to set me on the right track to a new and better me. Fingers crossed.