Take two medium onions and curse them as they refuse to be peeled. Finally succeed in peeling then, despite their protestations and your stinging eyes. Chop a couple of cloves of garlic even though the recipe calls for crushed. Lash 'em into an ovenproof dish and fry 'em in a bit of oil for about six minutes. Add the minced beef that you defrosted yesterday and that you have to use up before it goes bad. Fry and stir until it's browned. Sigh at the instruction to add hot stock and shrug and use two Knorr chicken stock cubes in a pint of water. Add the required two tablespoons of tomato puree (or thereabouts) stirring them into the stock. Add a heaped tablespoon of flour to the onions, garlic and meat, stirring it in well to ensure that there are no horrid floury bits in the mix later on. Add the stock in three goes, stirring it all up until it has an even consistency. Drain a tin of kidney beans and add them to the pot along with a teaspoon of chili powder. Stir it all up until you're convinced that it's evenly mixed up, then put the lid on and stuff it in the oven which you have pre-heated to 200 degrees.

Set the timer for an hour (it doesn't go any higher) and go and watch TV. When the hour elapses, set it for another hour and go back to the Merchant Ivory production you were watching. After a few minutes go upstairs to clean up after your youngest son who has just thrown up in his bed. Return to movie. Hear him coughing again and panic as you are convinced that he's having an asthma attack. Calm down your son while your wife rings the doctor. Bundle the child into the car, remembering to turn off the oven before you leave. Drive for half an hour all the time listening to your (now asleep) son's breathing and worrying that his distraught mother will crash the car killing you all. After twenty minutes driving, feel slightly foolish that you've dragged your doctor to his surgery at half past ten on a Sunday evening. Arrive at surgery and have a sleepy, but reasonably good tempered son refuse to be examined.

Feel relieved that asthma is ruled out and accept the diagnosis of a slight case of croup. Try and get son to take medicine, to no avail. Get back into to the car with the added embarrassment that you didn't bring any means of paying the doctor that you dragged out. Promise to reimburse doctor at earliest possible moment. Drive home feeling a bit drained and emotional. Nearly burst into tears when your son gives you his 'I was good at the doctor' sticker.

Add medicine to juice and sneakily get son to take medicine. Put him to bed. Remember chili in oven and take it out. Observe the largely burnt offering and carefully scoop the un-burnt bits into a dish. Realise how hungry you are and butter a slice of bread. Eat standing up in the kitchen with the chili. Yum.

Go to bed.