What is it about the English that makes us over-indulge to such a ridiculous extent?

After all, it seems our existence is punctuated by an increasingly regular advent of celebrations that can only be enjoyed by eating our own bodyweight in food and drinking like a fish that hasn’t seen water since the last drought.

Take Easter for example – what used to be a few painted eggs on the kitchen table and the odd Cadbury’s offering, is now an orgy of chocolate and excessive consumption (well, in our house at any rate).

We can’t move for Easter eggs, unable to see each other over the kitchen table for the huge mounds of oval offerings.

Then add in the bank holidays, several large family feasts, enough wine to service the entire feeding of the 5,000, and an inability to do any exercise whatsoever (plus, even if you wanted to, the kids are all on holiday so you can’t leave them unattended) and you’ll see my problem.

Having vowed to revert to famine status – ie drinking water, eating anything with a vitamin in it and maybe even sleeping a bit – I’ve begun thinking through the number of times I have to repeat this gastronomic orgy every year and why it seems to be increasing.

Because all of our celebrations involve gorging ourselves into a stupor.

Starting with Christmas and the turkey spread, followed by the even more debauched New Year blow-out, we have pancake day, Easter, May Day, and now this year, the Jubilee too.

Even Halloween is symbolised by carrier bags of sweets filched from all the poor old ladies in the village.

What happened to moderation?

Have we no self-control?

Isn’t there a sensible food day when all we do is eat carrots and sip herbal tea?

The French obviously don’t have this problem because they invented it. Having just read Lunch in Paris – a love story with recipes – about an American girl who falls in love, moves to the French capital and has to learn to contain herself, it’s made me think.

Because the French don’t gorge or overdo it.

Although famous for good wine and fine food, they don’t feel the need to eat enough for a month in one gulp and then diet for the next two.

They eat normal portions, abstain from seconds, refrain from snacking, refuse to eat between meals, and look and feel fabulous as a result.

Look at Vanessa Paradis for God’s sake.

Do you think she nicks her children’s confectionery from the top of the fridge when they’re not looking?

Non.

How can such a small channel of water make such a difference? Ask Churchill (and I’m not referring to the insurance dog).

Just imagine no crisps, no late night movies with a family-size pack of popcorn, no drinking lager in a sunny pub garden all day accompanied by several packets of pork scratchings simply because the sun HAS come out, when there’s a crackin’ coq au vin to be savoured.

But enough of my ponderings – I could go on but there are several dozen chocolate eggs to get through before lunch...