Monday
It was a big week at the UN, Buckingham Palace and the White House, but for all sentient people of Britain, the top story this week was that Bake Off is back and we need to talk about Nigella. (“Isn’t that the thing you use on cold sores?” said my gen Alpha child, as yet uninitiated into the lifestyle icons of our age. “That’s Bonjela,” I said.) I went into the opener of the show’s 17th season crankily resenting the departure of Prue Leith, who I love, and who offers, apart from anything else, a corrective to all the women on TV at the moment lecturing us about how to age from behind Maga-style glow-ups. (Youth on HBO anyone? No thanks!)
