'You don't mind a warm banana, do you?’ Mad-Aunt Millie looks at me so sincerely it's a miracle I don't burst out laughing.

'As long as that's not a euphemism,' I say. She gives me a stern look. I clear my throat, looking down at the gingham tablecloth. 'I can't say I've ever tried one, ma'am.'

'Great. There's a first time for everything.' She plonks a bowl with the aforementioned fruit in front of me.

Immediately, my nose is assaulted by what I can only describe as an abhorrence of nature. Like Millie's coated this banana in something foul-smelling before serving it up to me under the guise of nutrition.

'Don't wait on my account,' Mad-Aunt Millie says, turning back to the stove, 'I've got my one on the go.'

'Uh, okay.'

I pick up my fork with all the enthusiasm of a boy heading to the gallows, and prod the mashed banana in the hope that it'll grow legs and scuttle far away. Sadly, it doesn't. In fact, it looks more resilient than ever, lurking at the bottom of my bowl like a creature from the depths of the lake, those two arches in its flesh like beady eyes.

'You know what, Auntie.' I flash my widest smile. 'Sorry, but I think I've just lost my appetite.'