From calendar-keeping to cooking, for years, my hyper-organised personality crept into every corner of my life. I would save Instagram recipe videos and cuttings from weekend newspapers and use them to plan shopping lists with grand ideas about midweek dinners: a white bean stew pencilled in for one night, tacos another, homemade burgers another. I was always overambitious.
You would think this level of planning would translate into less food waste. But a busy routine working in London, often with last-minute events and long commutes, meant I was too tired to make anything when I came home. By Wednesday, I would fill up with shop-bought sushi or soup. More often than not, I would get to the end of the week with a fridge full of wilted ingredients, which I would quietly chuck into the food waste. I felt guilt and shame, but I was stuck in a loop.
