I still remember the Christmas I got fired. The lights were twinkling, the music was soft, the dining room smelled like cinnamon and pine… and I was walking out the back door with my apron in my hand, trying not to cry. No goodbye. No warning. No “thanks for your work.” Just a policy being enforced at the moment that suited them - definitely not the moment that considered me. A policy that never asked why someone might be unraveling.A policy that punished the symptom and igno

The Early Days I’ve seen a lot in my thirty years as a chef - some unforgettable, some distressing, and some best left in the kitchen. My humble beginnings date back to 1989, when a cocky sixteen-year-old fresh out of catering college (that’d be me) walked into the intimidating kitchen of The Berkeley Hotel in London. It was like tossing a guppy into a tank full of sharks - very different from the chilled kitchens of the Isle of Wight, where I’d been learning my craft. Colleg

The first thing I noticed when I got home from Kilimanjaro was convenience.  A cold drink from the fridge.  A hot shower.  Fresh sheets.  A takeaway delivered right to my door.  A friend showing up with champagne to celebrate.  I didn't have to  earn  any of it, it seemingly just was. These little luxuries just existed for me - no questions asked.  And yet, on the mountain, every small comfort felt like something I had to fight for, or worse, feel embarrassed about accepting.