THE WRITING PROCESS  Some days, nothing happens. Nada. Not a single decent idea, no snappy dialogue, no nothing. What do I do on those days?

(a) Panic. This can be small scale (if I don't finish at least a thousand words today I'll be behind on my [frankly nuts] schedule) or on a more impressive scale (that's it! My career is over! I'll have to sell my hair and pimp out the spaniel to survive!). It's best to get stage (a) over and done with early, so as to move on and…

(b) Rearrange The Things On My Desk. I move the pen pot just so, a millimetre to the left. I twiddle the lamp. I restack the notebooks, in strict order of size. I might punch the gonk. Then I...

(c) Eat. A biscuit, a sandwich, or a whole hog on a spit. I eat when I'm blocked. And when I'm not. I wipe my lips daintily with a starched napkin and I...
 
(d) Work On Something Else. This shakes the brain cells up, stretches muscles that have been inert for a while. But there is a danger – if the Something Else goes too well, then returning to the blocked work can seem like a chore. As a last resort I can always...

(e) Watch Daytime TV. A desperate measure, but oh so moreish. Like Smarties, or heroin. Half an hour of Jeremy Kyle seems like a good idea at the time, but I always need a shower afterwards.

FUDE  Do you know what you need? I'll tell you what you need. You need a foolproof chocolate mousse recipe. I know, because I needed one for years and couldn't find one. Everybody likes chocolate mousse (yes, alright, except for you there at the back who is poised to email me – I accept that it can't be actually entirely true that everybody in the whole world likes chocolate mousse, but go with me here). But chocolate mousse is usually very dark (children don't like that, and neither do I). Chocolate mousse can be a bit of  a bitch,  'forgetting' to set properly when you have company.  So here is a milky chocolate mousse, suitable for children and the inner child. I make it in one big bowl and grown women have been known to cry when they realise they can take as much as they want and not have to pretend to be delighted with a sodding ramekin.

This is a Jamie Oliver recipe, but I substituted elderflower for cognac . As it contains raw egg, don't offer it to pregnant women or the elderly: it's a dinner party, not Russian Roulette.

Melt 225g milk chocolate and 70g butter in a bowl over a pot of simmering water. (You know how to do that, don't you? Good.) Whip 350ml double cream to the point where it's floppy and cloudlike: stop before it becomes clenched and pre-menstrual.

Whisk together 2 eggs and 2tbspns runny honey. Fold in 1tbspn of elderflower presse to the egg mixture. Then fold the chocolate and the cream into this mixture. Be gentle, don't rush, and keep folding until there are no streaks.
Pour into 6 ramekins or one large bowl and chill in the fridge until you need it.

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