Mustering enough brio to do anything today seems like an objective too far. Apart from writing, making my bed and collecting essential foodstuffs from a local store, the other chores I hoped to achieve this Sunday have been postponed until further notice. That being said, shortly I also intend to cook a roast beef dinner, so I’m perhaps being overly harsh about this perceived inertia.

A roast beef dinner with all the trimmings is the meal I revere above all others. A well cooked piece of silverside my favourite main, roast potatoes part-boiled before addition adjacent to the still roasting meat the ultimate side. Add Yorkshire puddings, steamed cauliflower/broccoli and a flavoursome gravy made with the remnants of beef juices and I’m in dining clover.

I ordinarily don’t eat huge portions of food at mealtimes. However, present me with a smorgasbord of the culinary bounty above and I’d back my chances of out-eating that gluttonous fella from reality TV show Man Vs Food……. I’m bad enough pilfering bits of beef whilst carving the roast prior to presenting the platter to our dining table.

As a child my Yorkshire born and bred parents would present us with a large Yorkshire pudding each filled with gravy as our Sunday dinner starter; before delivering the main course of meat, veg and gravy dressing. I’m unsure if it’s a meal presentation option adopted around the UK, however, from memory, my parents inferred it was a process native to their home county…… That being said, it’s not a course option any of the family’ve followed for decades.

This paragraph is the inaugural literary passage after placing the beef in the oven, along with peeling the spuds ready to part boil in preparation for roasting. The tin in which the beef resides a sixty year old cooking container made for my parents by my old man’s uncle Reg. A splendidly manufactured cooking tray which’s been in the family longer than yours truly’s existence.

The barely scratched roasting tin has weathered better than yours truly. I know that’s a pretty subjective observation, but I raised it as the roasting tin hasn’t suffered a heart attack or a gastric bleed. That being said, I’d like to think I’ve achieved more over that last half century than the metallic cooking tray.

After all, I’ve undertaken three well paid jobs, achieved a Higher National Certificate in Business Studies, had cricket trials at the MCC school at Lords and written forty books. All the tin has achieved is providing a cylinder to cook in!….. So don’t get too bloody smug, uncle Reg’s tin.

After sealing the joint by cooking it at 190 degrees for 20-25 minutes, I’ve just lowered the temperature of the oven to 160 degrees for the remainder of it’s roasting. Additionally, the potatoes are now being part boiled for the next 20 minutes. On my journey into the kitchen I learned uncle Reg’s roasting tin also achieved a Higher National Certificate in Business Studies….. Bloody smart arse!!