One thing I shall not miss when we return home next Monday is the Greek food.

There is nothing wrong with it in terms of quality or preparation,it’s just me.

My family happily experiments with all manner of sea food and delicacies like rabbit. After a few days of the Greek diet, my throat begins to close and I find myself not eating very much at all.

I appreciate this is not exactly a satisfactory state of affairs when the annual holiday is to Greece. I love everything else about it. And it causes friction because no one else, least of all me, can understand it.

Last night, I enjoyed, or rather I should have enjoyed, spit roast chicken, cooked gently for hours in a heady blend of spices but instead I might as well have been served cat. I kept looking at it, picking at it, and as time went by I felt less and less inclined to eat any of it. And so it came to pass that a perfectly adequate chicken dinner was largely still intact when I left the restaurant.

I mean, chicken. How can you not eat chicken? It wasn’t squid or octopus which my sons have happily devoured in recent days. It was what I would buy, very rarely I must add, in a KFC. So why am I so adverse to the food over here?

I was not brought up to be adventurous. My mum couldn’t afford much so we had much the same cheap cuts every few days. I never had fish and by the time I was introduced to it, I hated the smell. And the same with lamb and a whole range of food that others regard with admiration.

I don’t even like Feta cheese because IT COMES FROM GOATS. What? I know, I know: it’s ludicrous. It’s not some petulant child I am writing about. It’s a fully formed male rapidly approaching bus pass time.

And with each passing year, my choices seem to narrow. I went through the starter menu last night and there was one thing I felt I could bear. The main menu was a bit better but I struggled whilst all around looked at me in bemusement and, I am sure, pity.

I am going to look this stuff up when we get home. Why am I so fussy? Why do I almost throw up at the possibility of eating good food?

So it’s Asda bacon sandwiches for lunch and another struggle tonight!

If I could explain all this, I’d happily do so and I would no longer treat food as a UXB.

Answers/suggestions all gratefully received!