I hate baked beans. It’s more like a phobia than just a hatred. I don’t like looking at them, never mind putting them in my mouth. Full English breakfasts mostly come with baked beans as standard. Often, people would forget I had asked for no baked beans and my worst nightmare would arrive on a plate.

I stayed at a lovely bed and breakfast once where the landlady asked me if I wanted breakfast. She then listed the items to check want I wanted. Bacon? Yes, please. Sausages? Yes, please. Tomatoes? No, thank you. Black Pudding? Absolutely. Mushrooms? Great, yes please. Hash Browns? Oh yes, that would be amazing, thanks. I was so excited and hungry. When it arrived it was swimming in baked beans. She thought she didn’t need to ask about baked beans. Everyone loves baked beans. I felt so bad not being able to eat it. I’m very good now at making it clear that if there’s a single bean anywhere near my plate I’m not going to touch it.

I’m also pretty scared of spiders.