AS someone who thinks about food nearly every minute of the day, I was excited to hear that Come Dine With Me is coming to Glasgow.

The show is looking for amateur chefs in the city to take part in a new couples series.

The only thing on a par with eating is watching cookery programmes. I can't get enough of them. Whether it's Saturday Kitchen, Nigella Lawson or Jamie's 15 Minute Meals, I could fill my life with beds of wilted spinach and al-dente pasta.

Come Dine With Me and the equally trashy Dinner Date - where singles get their tea cooked by three dates and pick their favourite - are in a league of their own though.

I will never forget the episode of Come Dine where fake-tanned contestant Johnny snogged a grandmother in front of the other diners, groped her and praised her juicy lips.

Where else would you get such attention-grabbing nonsense combined with delicious and some disastrous cooking? It's a TV recipe for success.

Although the behaviour of the Come Diners is questionable most of the time, I applaud them for having the courage to go on these shows...because it would be my worst nightmare.

Despite my love of food I am the worst cook. Some of my recent kitchen dramas include burning soup (and ruining a pan in the process) and making the worst fajitas in the history of the world.

And I'll never forget the time the fire brigade turned up at the door of my old flat because my flatmates and I had smoked the place out after burning a pizza.

The kitchen has never been my strong point. When I started working with the Evening Times I got sent out on various assignments to help me brush up on my cooking skills.

I got to try out a course at the City of Glasgow college where I failed miserably at making a fish dish edible.

I was then lucky enough to receive tips from top chefs, including Albert Roux and Brian Maule.

But Chef Maule and his super-efficient team at Chardon d'Or just laughed at me after I admitted I'd never eaten a steak before.

That was before they witnessed my excruciatingly bad slicing and dicing - it takes me about 45 minutes to cut up an onion - and admitted I was a lost cause.

A new book by Virginia Nicholson lays bare how hopeless I really am.

Perfect Wives in Ideal Homes: The Story of Women in the 1950s, tells how married women spent up to 15 hours a day on household chores.

Everything was cooked from scratch and ironing (which is surely the most pointless chore of all) was the most exciting activity of the day.

I'll never be the perfect housewife but I hope the Glasgow foodies out there can teach me a thing or two about cooking when the new series of Come Dine With Me finally hits our TV screens.