The current series of Masterchef seems to have been going on forever. In actuality I suppose it's been three weeks to a month. My mother watches it. I ignored it at first- on the grounds that I don't want to be looking at food I can't eat- but gradually I've been drawn in. There are two Adams among the semi-finalists and I'm backing the rangy Scottish one to win. Last night he and one of his compadres were cooking souped-up medieval and 18th century dishes at Dinner- the world's seventh best restaurant (according to Michelin). I think I can cook- to a certain basic level- but the things these guys get up to make me feel like a peasant.
I'v read all the Jackson Brodie books now. I got off to a bad start with Kate Atkinson's hapless, ex-squaddie detective but that was because I read the last book first and by that stage his creator is rather taking him for granted. These are whodunnits that also cut it as state of the nation novels. Also they're very funny.