The art of barbecuing is definitely a male dominated activity. The women make the salads, the beans and fix the bread, but it's the men who cook the steaks, chicken, hot dogs or hamburgers. They seem to know instinctively when the coals are ready and how long to wait before turning the meat over.

When I became single it was my turn to barbecue. I'd watched my ex do it so many times you’d think I would have absorbed the process. I was quite smug and knew it would a piece of cake. The steaks were gorgeous, an inch thick with the perfect amount of fat. One for my 16 year old son, one for my 11 year old daughter and one for me. I think my first mistake was not using enough charcoal. When I spread it around, it was a little skimpy in spots and I didn't wait long enough for the coals to burn down so the fire was way too hot.

As the fat dripped, the coals flared, the steaks caught fire and I forgot to have some water close at hand. Besides that, I had left my long handled fork in the house. We got the fire out, scraped off the burnt part of the steaks, but ended up with dry, overcooked steaks. What a waste of three beautiful pieces of beef.

It looked extremely easy when someone else did it. I was not going to let my first attempt be my last. Hot dogs! That would be easier and cheaper just in case I goofed again.

The next Sunday I figured I'd learned from my mistakes and would try it one more time. I had the right amount of charcoal to cover the bottom of the grill. This time I didn’t get over-anxious and I waited a long time for the coals to cool down before I put the hot dogs on the grate. I must have let the coals get too cool, or maybe the grate was too high. Anyhow it took forever to cook those hot dogs and we had to warm the buns in the microwave. One more disaster!

After a month or so, I thought I would try one more time. Had lots of charcoals left so I figured this time I would try chicken. I thought it was done and was quite pleased with myself, until we started to eat. It was still raw. I had to finish the job by putting the chicken pieces in the microwave. Later that year, I thought about trying hamburgers, but decided I’d probably goof them up too.

I now do salad, beans and bread. Sometimes I bake a cake, but I let my son-in-laws do the barbecuing. After all, it’s a man thing, this cooking called barbecuing.