‘I’ll admit I don’t have the best track record when it comes to men...’ I carry on lightly. ‘But I’m reliably informed you’ve been inundated with callers asking after me recently. So…’

Harry chuckles. ‘Are you referring to the perverts who want you in skimpier clothing on the show or are you thinking of dating another ad exec?’

‘Harrison Hipgrave!’ I say, in mock outrage.

Harry chuckles again and gives my cheek a quick peck. ‘Quite. You know where I am if you change your mind.’

30

I stick to my gym routine. I potter around my home. With the mortgage sorted, Philip Maxwell finalises the settlement in record time. The flat in Maida Vale I’ve resided in so happily for over a decade is legally mine. I throw a dinner party to celebrate, inviting Poppy, Faith, and Toby, who’s back for his UK work secondment – and back in Faith’s bed, her still keen to give things with him a proper shot.

Today, we’re shooting our penultimate show of the series. So far, we’ve been charmed by handsome banker Toby, amused by Ben the dentist and his electric Oral B, and ogled over Bassdog in all his studded glory. We’ve taken pity on Love Island boy Jerry and proudly paraded competition-winner Kenny S, Lutonian country music crooner and rental car manager. We’ve plonked sweet, young Adrian from accounts in front of the camera after Christophe the Swiss architect got cold feet. Faith had her fun with Lucy and, in a scoop, Joanna is sure will top the ratings when it airs in two weeks, we landed sea king Maximillian Modacious. We’ve cooked pumpkin gnocchi with a creamy chipolata sauce, blow your head off mega-hot tortillas, a delicious risotto and spaghetti bolognaise out of a can. My seafood banquet finally saw the light of day. We’ve gorged on steak Diane and beef with black-bean stir fry and I, for one, will always remember the finger-licking good vegetarian curry.

For eight weeks, over eight episodes, we’ve had a giggly, girly good time dishing up serving after serving of fun food and man-candy.

Publicly, I became properly single. Liz announced it in her weekend column – leaving audiences to ponder whether my mystery boyfriend ever existed at all, further distancing Jordan from our hijinks and my calamities. I have Joanna’s permission to exorcise the ghost of Master J for the recording today and, for the season finale next week, I’ll be the one with the date. At present, the only problem I have with this is that there’s no one yet lined up. Since the big meeting and the first shoot, my trepidations have abated – I love being a part of Eat Me.