I didn't realise that Anna had made the first, doomed batch of tarts and then thrown them away when I went to put something in the trash and a wave of heat rose up at me. Of course it turned out to be a few discarded pounds of boiling tart mix, but it caught me a bit by surprise. I thought, somehow, we'd thrown away exactly the right blend of harmless household rubbish to create a self-igniting trash fire. I think it would have been a much more dramatic end to Anna's first attempt at Bakewell tarts if I'd had to hurl a blazing, stainless-style cylinder of the accursed mix off our balcony and into the quenching waters of the Thames. I almost wish cooking was that exciting.