Five f**king obvious things I never could have predicted, by Dido Harding

NO one was able to predict that the Covid virus would mutate, apart from epidemiologists and primary school children. Here are some other blatantly obvious things I cannot predict.

The sun will rise in the morning

I go to bed every night petrified that the fiery sky ball has gone forever and I will have to live in perpetual darkness, whilst my husband weirdly never seems bothered. Who knows if the sun will rise again? It’s an ongoing mystery.

Christmas will be on December 25th

I find Christmas impossible to plan for because I never know what date it’s going to be on. It’s a real stab in the dark knowing if I’ve made the turkey dinner on the right day or whether I’m going to be forcing my family to stuff it down on a blazing hot day in July. If only someone could come up with a better system.

Gravity exists

Every time I try to put a glass of wine down in thin air, it falls to the floor and smashes. How weird is that? It would be much better if it floated, so I’m going to keep trying until it does.

The Titanic sinks

The first time I watched James Cameron’s Titanic I was gobsmacked when that big, safe ship sank. Couldn’t believe it succumbed to an iceberg and lots of people died. I’ve watched it several times since and I’m still surprised every time.

I am always shit at my job

Despite having a terrible track record at doing jobs, for example like the time I presided over a massive cyber attack on Talk Talk, I still think I’m a competent and useful person. And look, I’ve f**ked things up again. Who saw that coming?

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Comfort food: how good is it at dealing with actual problems?

WE’RE constantly being told how great comfort food is, especially during lockdown. But how does it fare against actual problems? Writer Ryan Whittaker kept a diary: 


The toilet’s broken. Called a plumber but it’s £150 I can ill afford and he won’t be here until 6pm. Stressed. Turned to comfort food and made myself a creamy mushroom pasta bake. Toilet still broken and I’m dangerously close to emptying the bomb bay.


Really depressed today about being single for three years. I just want to be loved like any other person. That’s not too much to ask. So I made a massive bowl of buttery mashed potatoes, filmed myself eating them while crying about how lonely I am, and tweeted it. Still single. Bit fatter.


My substantial gambling debts saw debt collectors come round. They were extremely threatening and kicked me in the testicles, so I made a luxurious Nigel Slater lamb hotpot. They took my laptop and said they’ll be back next week to break my fingers.


Lockdown really getting to me. Feel like I’m going slowly insane. All personal hygiene abandoned. I thought BBC Good Food’s fish-and-chips pie would resolve the situation, but when I finished it lockdown was still on and there’s a painful fungal growth in my armpit.


My house caught fire and I’m not insured. Luckily I had a recipe for one-pot sausage casserole, so I popped it in the oven as the flames took hold. I assumed this would sort everything out, but when I got to the emergency homeless shelter I discovered the sausages were still raw in the middle.

My conclusion

Despite my recent experiences, I have total faith in comfort food. Today I got hit by a bus, causing 16 serious fractures, but I’ve got a tray of chocolate brownies on the go so no worries.