I’m not really sure what’s happening to us. Carole is now saying goodnight to Google every time she goes to bed, just to see what it says back to her. It’s a bit Walton’s-esque. She says goodnight to me, and then to her phone. I’m not sure if that means I’m her first thought, or if she’s saving the best until last. But it’s definitely happening. And Google always replies with a hilarious response, whereas I just ask if she can try and not sleep with all her limbs all over the place.

Maybe if Google had to try and get into bed next to her, things would change.

But it’s not just that.

It’s the fact that Carole is deliriously happy with a new dust buster that she – me – has purchased so we can keep the new bookshelves nice and tidy. I said it wouldn’t work as well as she thought and she has basically gone out of her way to prove to me how wrong I could be. I’ll bet she’s even set up something with Google so that she’ll casually ask it how good the dust buster is and it will tell us that I was wrong and she was right, na na na na nah.

And then me, I’m excited because I’ve bought a new sexy looking pan. In fact, not only have I bought that pan but I’ve ordered a set of saucepans to go with it, so we can get rid of our existing saucepans. And I’m ridiculously excited about them arriving as well. Not to mention the fact that I don’t think it would be much of a stretch to replace our existing griddle pan with a new one as well, after all I got our existing griddle pan when I was at university. Which is a LONG time ago. We don’t even griddle that much stuff. But we bloody well could. I could happily char black lines onto everything.

I shouldn’t be this excited about pans.

But I bloody am.

I can’t wait to use them.

I’ve already re-written next week’s menu plan to incorporate things I can make in the new sexy pan. Prior to me buying it we were not having a risotto, and the idea hadn’t even crossed my mind. Now, however, it’s risotto a-go-go.

I remember being really excited about the new egg poacher we got a while back.

And the four-slot toaster, years ago.

We nearly got a KitchenAid the other week, but it was only available in an absolutely foul colour. But I have a feeling that’s not too far off, either.

I know I have an addiction to food porn. You show me a lovely picture of a cake, or a roast or something and I can’t not look.

But I think I have an addiction to kitchen porn. It feels dirtier, somehow.

I like it.