Why else would He bless me with a palate capable of discerning and fully appreciating fine food and wines, while at the same time cursing me with an appetite so small that I feel intimidated at the mere sight of a well-filled plate?
I suppose you could even say that in the early days of my writing career, I was a real glutton for punishment, in that one of my roles was a restaurant critic. Once a week for a couple of years I had to trundle off to restaurants the length and breadth of Derbyshire, sampling their often huge delights, and write about them objectively.
To be fair, though, the curse has never really put me off enjoying the benefits of the blessing, and savouring my restaurant meal. I just make up my mind to only eat what I feel comfortable with, and never mind that when I've finished there'll probably still be more food left on the plate than I've eaten.
That philosophy works nicely in the home kitchen, too. I love to cook, particularly fish, and have even created my own recipes for Seabass and Haddock. And it all means I can ensure my portions are perfectly sized.
For me, it's always been a case of quality rather than quantity, which is why I find restaurants serving nouveau cuisine to be particularly attractive.
But I well remember a rare occasion when I was able to completely clear my plate at a restaurant, and saying: "Perfect. There's nothing better than small portions." And a family friend who was eating with us, looked rather forlorn, and said: "There's nothing worse than small portions."