Cup a soup (or generic equivalent – please don’t sue me, Batchelor’s). What is it about this particular foodstuff (I use the word advisedly) that makes it quite so glue-like and yet watery in consistence? There’s a definite art to mixing all of the powder into the boiling water, and it’s one which I have not yet mastered.

As I write, I have a steaming mug of Big-Supermarket-Thick-and-Creamy-Tomato-Packet-Soup sitting next to me. I followed the instructions to the letter, pouring the quite alarmingly orange powder, interspersed with various unidentifiable and equally brightly-coloured bits, into the mug, then poured boiling water over the top of it. I stirred and took a sip.

The taste was nondescript and a large, gluey lump made its way up from the bottom of the mug and into my mouth. I stirred again, harder, faster and longer this time, scooping at the bottom of the mug to make sure that all the powder had dissolved. Surely that had done it. I took another sip. The soup was slightly thicker this time, but still tasted of very little.

Another stir-sip combination. Ooh. I think I may have got a bit of minutely-diced carrot that time. I’m being transported back to the days when I first started eating baby-food, and I’m not impressed. I stir again, sip once more. Repeat until I reach the bottom of the mug. Not only does it taste of nothing, by now it’s stone-cold as well. And hey, whaddya know – there’s a layer of gunk on the bottom of the mug that has somehow resisted the insistent mixing and formed itself into a strange orange glue, reminiscent of poster paint.

Still, at least my stirring hand has had a good workout.