I SENT my poor other half on a mission to the supermarket a few evenings ago and, if I am being honest, I was expecting a phone call.

About 15 minutes after he left the house, it came, with a bewildered man on the other end of the receiver gently enquiring, “Which aisles would I find the quinoa and polenta in?”

I tried my best to advise him, trying to picture the layout of said shop in my head, but I didn’t hold out much hope. Should I really have sent him, a man who does not cook at all, to search the shelves for such ingredients?

It was, therefore, a very shocked me who watched him strut in the door a little later, absolutely delighted with himself that he had managed to get everything on my list. My congratulations were instant, and heartfelt.

We’ve both been trying to chivvy ourselves along during our grieving process by doing a variety of random things.

I delved into my vast collection of recipes snipped from the pages of magazines to source some salads for our evening meals to try and reignite my passion for the culinary arts – hence the need for quinoa.

Rather than our traditional meals, such as spag bol and the usual suspects, I have been employing halloumi and feta, avocadoes, ham hock, cucumber, chickpeas and an assortment of other ingredients as part of a range of tasty platefuls to hopefully raise our spirits.

It has worked in part and I’ve been inspired to update my recipe folders by sticking into them all of the random bits of paper lying around my cooking bookcase. We definitely felt a little better for having a healthy and colourful evening meal.

Coping is still easier when my hands and mind are occupied. Quieter moments do invite reflection and somewhat inevitable pain and sadness.

I have temporarily switched from knitting memorial blankets to making Tiny Clanger from The Clangers for our daughter and I have a pile of enticing new paperbacks lined up on my bedside table.

My best friends have also proved invaluable; one made a surprise trip from Edinburgh to visit for a weekend, one kindly bought us a beautiful book on grief and one provided amazing company on a ladies’ night out.

Another took me to lunch, listened to me offload and bought us a night’s stay in a hotel as a chance to escape from our woes.

Her generosity is, as always, incredible, and I feel blessed to be the recipient of her loving care, and that of my other close friends and family.

This will be the last you’ll hear from me for a little while as, in order to take a proper break, I am handing over My World to my colleague Emily Roberts for the next four weeks.

I am very grateful to her for her assistance and I look forward to her columns.

I’ll be back in action in the paper on August 20. Until then, take care, and thanks – as ever - for reading.