Up in Kuranda, near Cairns in the tropics, I was sitting in an old reclining chair. As I did so, my brother’s partner said, ‘That chair is the same as your wok’.

‘What do you mean?’ I said.

‘He [my brother] said, “If the chair goes, I go.”‘

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Fortunately, they had not come to that point. As for the wok, well, in two former relationships when the wok appeared in the bin I knew that the relationship was over. On each occasion, the wok and I moved on.

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As you can see, it’s a glorious wok. I found it while camping in New England National Park more than twenty years ago. It has cooked more meals than I care to remember. So it has become very much a case of ‘love me, love my wok’.

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