Our household was so delighted that Frances won we actually cheered when her name was announced (note to self - apologize to next door neighbour!)
My faith in the programme was restored with that result. I too had heard the rumours that Ruby had already got a TV series and book contract, and the insinuation on social media was that she had won - thanks Raymond Blanc.
But no, it was dear Frances, a lovely local lass - OK she's from Market Harborough, but that's not far away - who shyly cooked her little socks off and produced style with substance for Mr Hollywood and the fantastic Mary Berry (surely a 'Dame' in the making?)
Frances was never big-headed, never cocky or over-confident, she just got on with the cooking and left the flirting, crying and dramatics to other contestants (mentioning no names, you know who they are).
Tuesday nights just won't be the same. However, to cheer myself up I'm joining a singing group.
A local lady is setting one up, and I think that this may just be the tonic to get me through the winter nights - well, either that or sloe gin.
But joking apart, as a wise friend of mine once said, there's nothing like singing for raising the spirits, it's second only to dancing in her book.
So, our adage for life has become:
"Sing like nobody's listening, dance like nobody's watching, and write like nobody's reading."
The last part was my contribution, although I do hope somebody is reading this...