There is, it seems, no end to what I don't know. Was everyone else aware that it is not OK to keep potatoes in a fridge? 

I ask because there has been a shift in fridge orthodoxy which means it's now perfectly acceptable to do what I've been doing all along and stuff my spuds in there with the carrots and onions.

The contents of a fridge are as personal as the contents of a medicine cabinet. Everyone has different views on what should be kept there.

Inside ours are opened mustard and ketchup, harissa and tomato paste (though I'm not sure this is strictly necessary) but no tomatoes, should we be so fortunate nowadays as to have found some on shop shelves. There haven't been any at our local market for weeks.

And then there's the question of eggs. One school of thought claims they, like cheese, should be stored in a cold space but not a fridge. A larder, say. 

But how many of us have a proper, cool larder? And what about all those jars of jams and chutneys?

When you analyse it, the fridge is a depository of long-held individual prejudices and habits.

My boyfriend and I also have a long-running dispute about which leftovers should be kept there.

He always wants to save the few scraps of salad or pasta from the night before which I'm always about to bin.

'I'll have it for lunch tomorrow,' is his general rationale when I ask why he is saving this paltry amount. But of course he doesn't. He goes out and buys some soup or meets a friend in a cafe.

And so the pasta and salad from the night before sit mouldering there for days until I chuck them out – only to be replaced by new leftovers also destined for the recycling after their pointless stay in the transit lounge that is the fridge.

More exercise? Does lifting a glass count?

Every week there's another edict about what kind of exercise and how much of it we need to do to keep in good health.

Possibly, naively, I had assumed that doing some cardio two to three times a week would tick that particular box. But no. 

Now we are told that to fend off the effects of ageing, we should be lifting weights, raising our heart-rate at least five times a week, and walking for hours.

Where are we meant to find the time for all this? If exercise is your main priority, then naturally it can be fitted in. But if you are a normal person, or at least normal in my book, you have many other things you prefer to do.

To fulfil the ever-increasing exercise demands we are urged to take on, there would be little time to do anything else in what is meant to be leisure time.

Exercise is not just the time spent doing it, but all the pre and post stuff. My runs might be 30 minutes but the whole procedure of dressing, getting on-site, changing, showering etc and sprucing up takes at least an hour.

No doubt all this activity is good for us, but is it really necessary? I know many nonagenarians who have achieved their great age in relatively good shape without having ever embarked on a hefty exercise regime. 

They may have done the odd yoga class and enjoyed a sociable game of tennis or swim, but hauling themselves around a gym? Never. They also enjoy more than the odd glass of wine and always have done.

That's the way to go.

Now get ready for Hancock, the play

I went to see Grenfell: System Failure, a thought-provoking and emotionally challenging play. It consists of edited transcripts from the final phase of the official inquiry which spotlight the bureaucratic inadequacies leading to the human tragedy of that inferno on the night of June 14, 2017.

Part of its effectiveness comes from being a live audience seated in the inquiry room, rather than watching through the distancing filter of a television screen.

Considering what Matt Hancock's unimaginable number of WhatsApp messages as Health Minister during Covid reveal about the chaos, endless self-justification and blame-shifting that took place, it can only be a matter of time before a playwright attempts a similar dramatic reconstruction.

Show mercy on the sex dates, Mariella!

Mariella Frostrup's admission that she diarises sex with her husband to ensure it takes place has caused just as much comment as her determined battle against the iniquities of menopause.

It's a brave confession since most of us would like to persist in the delusion that sex happens spontaneously because our partner finds us, or we them, irresistibly attractive. Slotting a session in the diary doesn't have quite the same thrill.

However Mariella, pictured above, might also have another reason. Her husband is human rights lawyer Jason McCue, immersed in High Court legal action against the boss of Wagner, the violent, Russian paramilitary group (many recruited direct from jails) responsible for countless atrocities in Ukraine. 

In his efforts to get Wagner classified as a terrorist outfit and seize its international assets, McCue is a busy man. Nobody could blame him, even if marital sex is slotted into the calendar, that the precise date and time still slip his mind.

That's what I call a waist collection

Last week's Dior show was a masterclass in beautiful clothes and, hurrah, celebrated the waistline – a part of the female anatomy not particularly well served in recent fashion.

Elegantly unbuttoned shirts tucked into the waistband of flared and pencil skirts featured alongside the most magical prom-style evening dresses.

After many years of the empire waistlines and droopy dresses that have flooded our stores, hopefully Dior's show will inspire a New Look2 in high street collections that's more within the financial reach of the rest of us.