I rarely cook a meal anymore, not since Steve told me my cooking was crap. That was back in April, I cook for myself but only stuff like scrambled eggs.
Steve is busy today, he's sanding down the railings outside our flat. They were done not long ago but to a very poor standard and the paint is hanging off in strips.
Because he's busy, I offered to cook today, a fake roast, two chicken breasts wrapped in parchment paper stuffing, roast potatoes, broccoli and gravy.
I don't think he was keen on the meal, the chicken wasn't dried out, the stuffing was cooked, the potatoes weren't crunchy in the middle. But Steve ate it without complaint and I enjoyed it.