It comes to us all, assuming we keep breathing. The advance of age. Age and birthdays. The latter are nice, full of presents, cake and kisses from family and friends who do their utmost to ignore your numerous unattractive qualities for one day at least.
The former is not nice. It is marked by growing disappointment with the realisation that, actually, that day in 1983 when you thought you looked a bit fat, was in fact the day you looked your best, your most vibrant, and that day is never coming back.
Fortunately, now that I’m 26, age has not yet caught up with me, unlike this magazine, which, with this edition, hits the big 50. That’s 50 editions packed with recipes and culinary wisdom you never knew you needed - and doubtless still don’t......
