My kitchen isn’t the fanciest in the world. It isn’t filled with spangly gadgets or metres of beautiful instagramable worktops, plates, pot and pans. Don’t get me wrong, that is my dream, that and an eight ring cooker, but reality is somewhat different at the moment. What my kitchen is, is well used, loved and to be honest my sanctuary. It is the first place I would chose to be to relax and switch off. Listening to the radio, lighting a nice candle and cooking something new, is actually my idea of heaven. Admittedly, since having my son 21 months ago, cooking isn’t quite as relaxing as it once was. I now have to dodge a toddler who insists on pulling everything, and I mean everything, out of the cupboards and off the worktops, eats scraps off the floor, wants to drink the cats water and demands to stir every bowl of food you are prepping. Throw in the mixture of crayons, toy cars, duplo and his own pots and pans on the floor, it can be a challenging cooking experience. I have had more than my fair share of cooking disasters recently, as I get distracted and then seem to forget what I have added in or not. Not sure I can still claim that I have baby brain anymore!