ADDICTED TO FOOD

Popping a sausage onto my plate, I sat down on a plastic garden chair and licked my lips. It was May 2020, and I’d reunited with my family for the first time in months, due to lockdown restrictions, and we were celebrating with a barbecue.

But moments later, my son, Ollie, then two, bounded onto my lap, pushing me backwards. In an instant, the chair leg snapped, sending us both plummeting to the ground. ‘Ollie!’ I screamed, as I hit the floor. Luckily, neither of us was hurt, but my humiliation was obvious. It was no good blaming my boisterous toddler, though – at 21st, it