AT the ungodly hour of 4am on Thursday of last week, I woke myself up sneezing uncontrollably.
Hayfever is a killer for me at this time of the year, regardless of the medication I am prescribed, and mornings just make me sneeze.
This particular morning I was grumpy and tired and I had the completely incongruous hankering for blueberry pancakes.
I found a recipe online, spent 15 minutes separating eggs and hand whisking the whites and then another hour making the actual pancakes.
I ended up with about seven that looked okay.
But when I sat down to eat them, every single one of them was inedible.
I’ve never been so frustrated before, and I had a bit of a cry while standing in the kitchen in my pyjamas at 6am.
The worst thing was, all I really wanted – once I’d stopping sobbing into the washing up bowl – were some blueberry pancakes.
I studied catering and though I haven’t cooked anything quite as extravagant as the Black Forest Gateaux which I made for my GCSE practical.
I figured I could at least whip up a few pancakes. Apparently not!
I find it quite worrying, that as an 18-year-old who will be living alone within the next few years, my staple diet consists of bread and instant noodles, alongside the occasional omelette.
If I’m this terrible now, only a handful a years after stopping my bi-weekly cooking class, how do other young people handle themselves?
Obesity is a country-wide epidemic of the 21st century and yet apart from a few lessons on the food pyramid when I was 10, I can’t remember ever being taught any useful skills alongside my academic ones.
In a job market that increasingly insists on hiring experienced workers, but won’t hire people to gain that experience, it’s no wonder young people are living at home for longer than ever before.
At least here, my mum can prepare my dinner and my dad can make me the pancakes I crave on a weekend.