After the wild frolicking Redentore festival of Venice, London – even in the midst of Olympic madness – is quite a calm place. London has been my base for the last eight months, and I dare say it is home. It felt great to unpack and grab a quiet spot in leafy Victoria Park for a lie-down in the spotty English sun. The last few weeks have seen loads of shiny silver drizzle, but also a few days of weather pleasantly “not-rainy”. Which is about all one can ask for.

I left Venice with a searing hangover head full of new food knowledge courtesy of my Venetian mentor Enrica Rocca. We poached whole fish, crisped up a flotilla of duck breast and I mastered some of the odd flavour pairings of the Veneto (Veal and Tuna sauce?).

I am now back with my beloved adopted food family at Food at 52 cooking school, where, in the last two months, I have managed to elevate myself from wandering voyeur, to mildly useful volunteer assistant, and am proud to say that on Thursday night I will lead my first cooking class (Italian as it turns out) as Solo teacher. I am stoked, and I must say the whole thing has sort of snuck up on me. It was only back in February – after much deliberation of how to take the Food Pilgrimage mission to the next level – that I set a goal of starting a cookery school… somewhere. I didn’t know how or what it would look like, or who would be interested. I only knew that the thing to do was to…