The World of The Minx

In something and desperately trying not to be

2011-02-23T22:47:00.000Z

Once I stood a chance with you. It was a small chance, but it was there. It just needed nurturing.
Then I made a silly, drunken, error of judgement - one that wasn't actually so much about judgement, but about the way I expressed a deeply felt, and common, conviction about what was happening - and you cut me dead. It took me a small while to come to terms with that. Fortunately my birthday and Christmas took my mind off it when the hurt was at its most raw, and by mid-January I was, to all intents and purposes, over you. I was doing fine.
I'd been on the odd date, I'd found other victims to obsess about and focus on, and then, when I was considering getting up the nerve to ask one of them for a drink, you suddenly flared up in my consciousness.
I'm trying to move on. I'm still putting myself out there as far as those other people are concerned, following up on suggestions of time together - unlike you, who couldn't commit, but also couldn't just say you couldn't, or wouldn't - and yet you're there, in the back of my mind at the very least, usually in the forefront, and pissing me off while you're at it.
I will not apologise further. You are in part to blame for my outburst. Talk to anyone who really knows me. I'm forceful, but only to protect myself. I have to be pushed a long way before I admit, vocally, what's bothering me.
A very large part of me wants to move on. Of course I see you and tremble. It's been a very long time since anyone inspired the feelings in me you do, even without the odd stony glance and silence I expect when you realise I'm there. Those feelings - I have to choose to act on them. I'm hoping writing this will help clarify my feelings. But I know from experience that itches like this need scratching and I'm not going to get you out of my system that easily.
Get out of my system.
Please.

The adventure in 1,500 words or thereabouts

2010-10-22T17:42:00.003+01:00

San Francisco
Extremely hot! Was supposed to be a bit cloudy and around 18C, but instead was blinding sun and 27C min the three days I was there. There was a cocktail evening at the Ferry Building the day I arrived, so that kind of set the tone for the pre-Vancouver leg of the trip: lots of alcohol.
Stayed sober Thursday; went wine-tasting in the Sonoma and Napa valleys on Friday. 30C and ten samples of wine before lunch make for a very sleepy person. Spent Saturday morning at the farmers’ market before taking Gromit for a wander around the tourist sites and getting pics of him having adventures for postcards.

San Francisco -> Portland
Spent Saturday night and most of Sunday on Amtrak’s Coast Starlight train heading up to the top of Oregon. Slept for about six hours, woke up to the most amazing scenery and couldn't get back to sleep after that. Lovely breakfast of scrambled eggs on a scone, fruit juice and endless tea in proper dining car.

Portland
Fab fab place. Incredibly cycle-friendly and getting more so, brilliant beers on practically every street corner because of all the microbreweries, and very compact so great for wandering around on foot. Again, it was meant to be about 17C max, and the Pacific Northwest has a reputation for dampness, but it was 25C and sunny the whole time I was there. I also discovered a coffee I can drink without getting headachy or funny in the stomach about an hour afterwards – this is what happens when you only roast the beans as much as they need rather than until they’re totally dark like everyone else does and you make your lattes and macchiatos very frothy even with skimmed milk. I love Stumptown for this reason. I will go back to Portland, and spend my whole time on a bike or in various brewpubs I think. But in slightly cooler weather.

Seattle
How I love Seattle.
The only thing against it is that being on the west coast it’s eight hours behind the UK and therefore very difficult to keep in touch with people here without waking them up or being woken up. As I don’t yet live there and therefore don’t yet have friends there, I find this an obstacle cos I like being in contact with people.
Gromit came out with me, to go see Pike Place Market and the Uni of Washington Huskies store. He was very popular among the people clustered around the ‘original’ Starbucks (which isn’t, it’s just the original equipment in a store around the corner from the original premises) when he posed for a photo outside. Sadly because he’s so small, people will have to take it on faith that he’s there, or by checking the buskers behind him and comparing with the photos of them in the Starbucks busking spot in the next photo.
Finessed my wine-tasting skills with a trip to the Washington wineries, taking in Snoqualmie Falls (Twin Peaks country) on the way back.
Then I took the Amtrak thruway coach to

Vancouver
Before getting there we stopped and completely unloaded the bus at Canadian customs, where they asked where I was going and why, and then let me back on the bus. (Compare to getting back into the US later.)
Had realised in Seattle that I’d very cleverly left my anti-depressants at home. Decided to sort myself out while in a Commonwealth country with comparable health system to ours. Lovely doc at walk-in clinic looked at the blister packs I had with me, asked what strength I wanted and how many, and said I could have twice as many just to make sure things went okay. I obviously have an honest face. Consider me next time you need something smuggling. Pharmacists charged me CAN$40 – roughly £25 – for a month’s supply, which is less than I would have paid here ten years ago for the same thing. And these ones are pink.
I think Vancouver suffered from my being slightly less medicated than normal, but it was also actually finally damp and less sunny, which is bound to put a slight downer on a place after more than a week of blazing summer. I can see why people say it’s gorgeous, cos it’s set in the middle of some amazing scenery, but the downtown part of the city itself is much of a muchness with other places, and not that big. I think if I was there to do outdoors stuff I’d really enjoy it. Loved my hotel – they were quiet and so upgraded me to a ‘suite’, basically a flat.
Favourite bits of the week were going to Capilano Suspension Bridge and realising I was nowhere near as scared as my brain knew it should be going over a 200ft-high rope bridge, and the afternoon I spent at the University of BC’s museum of Anthropology. Turns out my GCSE textiles project owes a lot to an artist from the area.

Train back to Seattle before flight to Boston.
Oh yes – the US re-entry.
Had to arrive an hour and half before train left to fill in forms, get checked in and assigned a seat and answer usual questions. Dragged bag through to x-ray machine. The woman in front of me had a couple of Canadian apples studied carefully and confiscated by security because she couldn’t guarantee she’d eat them before we crossed the border. I came into Canada with a couple of bottles of fruit juice and an openly-held banana (I was hungry by that point). Then, when we reached the border, we’re boarded by scary-looking border guards with big boots and guns and the loos and restaurant car are locked down so no one can hide, and at *this* point our tickets are checked, as well as our passports. How to make sure no one tries to sneak up a class.

The flight:
Stuck on plane next to woman with extremely strong perfume for five hours. My nose started itching and hasn’t really stopped since. It turned into quite a mild cold, but as I haven’t had one since I was last on the east coast of the States, Ben and Pete are now really convinced I’m allergic to the whole seaboard.

Boston
The problem with living with the Tube is that I’m confident using other cities’ underground rail and I don’t necessarily learn about the streets above by getting lost walking around. It took me till about four days in Boston to realise how close everything is to each other and that it was just my slightly screwy navigation (I think my sense of direction is in my nose) preventing me from getting about on foot.
Did the trolley tour to get an idea of the history, went to Fenway Park because you can’t discover you actually quite like baseball without going to the home of the most famous team in the States, ate a lot of take-out in my room while fighting off the snotty nose. Only conked out completely one day, when I decided to stay in my room and watch House from 10-5 with a box of tissues and a lot of tea. By the next morning I was out taking ferry rides (and using my slight temperature to protect me from the worst of the wind whipping the city) and going up to Salem for the afternoon without too much tiredness or goop.
The Boston Book Festival was on when I was in town, so when I went to gaze in awe at the Public Library, I also got to be all literary – and discovered Nobel Laureate economist Joe Stiglitz was taking part in a debate as part of the day. Went off to watch. I reckon the American economy is doomed. They’re so anti-anything that could help get more people into work because it could impact on the money available to everyone else that they’re just never going to break even. Stiglitz said as much – he pointed out that the average wage has actually decreased in the past 20 years because most people are being paid less to allow the top bosses to have their fortunes added to – but no one wants to risk being the one who loses out even more to help balance things back up again.
Final day spent wandering Boston Common, Beacon Hill and Newbury Street.

Got an upgrade on the flight home – Premium Economy gets you a drink before takeoff, real cutlery, comp wine and spirits throughout the flight, and even well behaved babies. And importantly, bigger seats and space to sleep reasonably, although the bloke in front of me insisted on putting his seat right back so my legs were *still* a bit squashed, but nowhere near as badly as they would have been normally.

Now I just have to finish paying for it all.

Sam goes on the road again

2010-09-22T10:07:00.000+01:00

...or rather, on a couple of planes and several trains.
Updates coming as and when I remember to log on and write up my notes. If you're really interested you should just borrow my journal, it'd save electricity and stuff.

Fifteen disks

2010-09-11T16:25:00.002+01:00

Ben tagged me on Facebook with this one, and I like thinking about what my choices meant to me so much I decided to repost the results here.
The rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen albums you've heard that will always stick with you. List the first 15 you can recall in no more than 15 minutes.
1) Troublegum - Therapy?
2) Absolution - Muse
3) The Holy Bible - Manic Street Preachers
4) The Bends - Radiohead
5) All About Chemistry - Semisonic
6) The Colour and The Shape - Foo Fighters
7) Hifi Serious - A
8) Gold Against The Soul - Manic Street Preachers
9) Echo Park - Feeder
10) Hot! - Squirrel Nut Zippers
11) Leftism - Leftfield
12) No Angel - Dido
13) Take That and Party - Take That
14) The Best of - James
15) Garbage - Garbage
Chronologically, it was Take That first. I did my homework in the kitchen, which only had a radio casette player, and fast-forwarding the tape copy I'd made of TTAP automatically switched the radio back on. Thus I was exposed to Mark Goodier's Evening Session, and a lifelong love of noisy bouncy indie rock was born.
Therapy? and the Manics pretty much saved this unhappy 16-year-old's life. Instead of taking out my misery on myself, I screamed along with James Dean Bradfield and Andy Cairns, put my parents through hell and emerged relatively healthy and normal on the other side.
I still tell people that if I can get through listening to The Bends without wanting to hurl myself in front of a bus, I'm *really* doing okay.
Garbage arrived all moody and sexy and redheaded and scary when I was trying to work out what sort of grown-up female I wanted to be. I ended up looking more like Justine Frischmann, but I think Shirley Manson's attitude was the more influential.
Dido... As JD says in an episode of Scrubs, "if my heart could write songs they would sound like these". I think it's a girl thing.
James, Leftism and The Colour and the Shape were huge parts of my university life. I could only study for psychology exams if Leftism was playing. (Fatboy Slim wrote my dissertation a couple of years later). James was the inevitable band to start and end any student party.
I remember bombing around Cumbria on various little projects the summer before I moved to London with Hifi Serious and Echo Park blasting out of the car stereo. The bass used to rumble her suspension something chronic.
Hysteria is one of my favourite tunes EVER. Absolution's a pretty stellar album, and who couldn't love Chris Wolstenholme's botto- I mean, Matt Bellamy's over-theatrical performances?
All About Chemistry, a smashing album all about sex and love and how the two don't always have to be compatible, delivered with a cheeky grin and sheer exuberance for being alive. And then El Matador, a total turnaround, deep and solemn and wistful and yet still secretly joyful.
You kind of have to experience the Squirrel Nut Zippers to get their appeal.

2010-08-26T23:33:00.003+01:00

So here's the deal, overnight boy.
I am totally smitten with this other boy.
Although there have been recent developments in his noticing I'm actually quite funny, he otherwise thinks I'm boring old nice.
So I have a massive favour to ask.
It would really advance my cause if he heard about how cool and groovy and downright lovely I can be, and often am, from someone he trusts and holds in high regard, and it's almost frightening the way he lights up when you're around. He thinks you're cool. It's the greatest bromance the office has ever seen.
I can only offer regular baking and my deep deep gratitude, but could you - would you - find a way to drop me in it, so to speak?

Blessed relief, a change of subject

2010-08-24T21:03:00.004+01:00

Thoroughly lovely, if also damp, late weekend with Janey.
It's been a long time since I've had as lazy and girly a morning as we did yesterday, throwing rude comments at Breakfast telly over pain au chocolat and obscene amounts of tea - even for me - and managing to do our hair and make-up in the same mirror at the same time. The irony isn't lost on me that I have to take far more time over my hair when it's going to get wet or sweaty in the hope of ending up looking only as unkempt as usual. By then end of the day I had actually quite stylish twenties Marcel waves going on.
Lunch was great. It may have been the result of a glass of champagne on a light breakfast and a light lunch (smoked salmon with seasonal salad, pork terrine and chilli chutney, followed by two Scottish cheeses on crackers), but it was remarkably sedate - the rain stopped while we were 100 feet in the air, under a large perspex canopy, and there was no breeze either. Combined with being strapped in via more seatbelts than a school bus and tighter than my control pants can manage, the only moment of worry for either of us was that we couldn't reach our food or champers easily.
There's no other way to finish off dinner with your feet dangling over Prince's Street Gardens than with a mint cornetto once you're back on the ground, so that's what we did before meeting Kathryn to plan our evening, then taking our second jaunt of the day down the Royal Mile to get throughly flyered and find a show to keep us out of trouble and the rain. Took up the Free Fringe comedy show at the White Horse because of the fetching purple flyer. The first chap wasn't that good - but won us back with his encore poem - while the second chap was brilliant, if only because of his ability to edit his whole show as he was going along because of the presence of two 14-yr-olds in the front row.
Almost everywhere in Edinburgh is a venue these days, but when you're looking for one in particular that doesn't help much. It was worth persevering in the hunt for GRV, for the well-needed tea they provided me with, and the Sanderson Jones show, Taking Liberties. He uses graphs, badly-drawn cartoons on flipcharts and the odd photo to illustrate his ramble about freedom speech and opinion, and is throughly disgusted with his dependence on his iPhone. There's a lot of comedy designed to make you feel uncomfortable around these days, but very little of it is because it makes you think.
I really should eat more Thai food. It's very creamy and often has fish hiding in it, but Thai Basil thoroughly reignited my love of my love of red curry. Tons of sticky rice and Tiger beer and four very happy diners.
Then we gathered a couple more people to go to Just The Tonic at The Caves (a big disused railway arch just under South Bridge) to see the German Comedy Ambassador to the UK, Henning Wehn. Apart from his views on After Eights and KFC, I don't think I can remember anything specific from his show, but I spent most of it trying not to cry with laughter.
Home before midnight and a chocolate brownie each on the sofa before crashing out for the night; we're not the young things we once were.
This morning we decided to have a second breakfast at Brown's - eggs florentine, and elderflower fizz and rich mocha torte for Janey, and the creamiest scrambled eggs, a pot of tea and banoffee cheesecake for me. All wet mornings waiting for a train should be spent in such a civilised way. It was so reviving the sun even came out as we headed back to Edinburgh Waverly.
Gromit's extremely bouncy after two days with one of his girlfriends, and while I'm tired I had a fab time. We mustn't leave it so long before doing something similar again.

2010-07-22T16:43:00.003+01:00

Totally crushing out.
I don't recall being this silly about someone since I was about 14.
He's got a lovely voice, hair on his arms like John Cusack (you have to have seen the impact High Fidelity had on me to understand this one), deep eyes, a certain scruffiness, smells of coffee, a shy grin and probably a more than healthy fear of me should he ever find out I'm wittering like this.
It's really nice to be happily dizzy and messed up about someone rather than fraught and confused like I usually am.
Of course, this means it's doomed and nothing will ever happen, but it's fun.
I'm not sleeping either, and so far the psychosis this is inducing isn't a problem either.

2010-07-15T21:54:00.003+01:00

I've forgotten how to flirt.
Well, no, I haven't, quite, but I've forgotten how to act around people I like and want to make a slow and steady impression upon.
It's only a recent loss of ability; I remember doing it before Christmas.
But now it sort of matters, because a rather interesting couple of people have appeared on the horizon, and I can't for the life of me manage anything more than Willow Rosenberg did before Buffy Summers came to Sunnydale:
"Well, when I'm with a boy I like, it's hard for me to say anything cool, or, or witty, or at all. I can usually make a few vowel sounds, and then I have to go away."
It's difficult, and not particularly attractive, for a 30-something woman to try to hide behind jaw-length hair rather than acknowledge someone's presence, never mind channel the mojo which she used to have in spades, albeit kept in a cupboard for special occasions.
I think I might need to take a leaf out of the German football team's book.
They practice penalty shoot-outs all the time, even if the chances of them being involved in one are very slim. Like Jonny Wilkinson's obsessive goal-kicking practice, it instils in them an almost zenlike ability to block out the distractions of the moment when it matters and slot the ball where they want it to go. I need to flirt with loads of people at times when it really doesn't matter so it's second nature again when it does.
The only problem I can see with this plan is that, much like weight loss, it's one of those things where I could really do with seeing results now (Don't get me started on my actual weight watching antics).
So if you have the misfortune to be accosted by me, and I seem more flighty / nervous / insane than normal, or for some reason I can't look in anything like your direction, don't worry. I'm just practicing.

2010-07-13T21:19:00.002+01:00

When you finish a holiday, you're never really keen to go back to work. I could say the same about the end of my jury service. Two weeks of not having to be in "work" until 10 and only staying till 4.30pm at the latest, of getting food and drink free (as long as you consume less than £5.71's worth a day, which is only five large cups of tea or six small cups, or 11 packets of crisps, or a decent lunch and maybe one cuppa), of a lot of sitting around reading and relaxing while waiting to be called onto a panel.
But it was really nice to come back into the office yesterday morning. I had to take on the Central Line at peak hour, but the office was fairly quiet and cool, and there were various friendly faces about. I was back somewhere I actually belong.
Jury service is a strange thing.
You're basically there to make the random process of jury selection as random as possible - there are more people in the pool than can be called up for all of a court's juries (just), so if there's a full house, every last name is called by chance, not because they were the last kids to be picked for the team. This means there is an awful lot of sitting around waiting. It took until Thursday of my first week for me to survive all the selections and actually hear a case. By then I'd read two whole books.
Even when you're on a jury, there's a lot of waiting about. The court has to be assembled before you troop in, so you're called, taken to your retiring room - where you have all your discussions - and then wait... sometimes for only a minute, other times for half an hour or more. In the case of legal argument, you're sent out - and a barrister's 10 minutes is a normal person's half an hour. If you're lucky, you'll be sent back to the assembly room to grab a drink and relax somewhere with access to fresh air. If not, you'll be taken to the retiring room - some of which at Isleworth have a small garden attached so you can get some fresh air / sneak a cigarette while you're waiting - or to a room with windows which technically open but that are alarmed, and where anyone who wants a cigarette has to send a note to the judge asking for permission before everyone is taken outside to stand with them while they puff.
I liked that if the jury wanted something, the whole court had to reconvene for us, which could make one feel quite important were it not for the fact that it usually means one decides to ask the question, then has to wait for the clerk to come for your note and reassemble the court - which means dragging the judge and the barristers away from whatever they decided to do while you were elsewhere. And I did meet lots of people I would never normally be exposed to, which is a good thing.
I also remembered something from my year of therapy. At first I much prefered to read rather than talking to my fellow jurors while waiting for a case, partly because everyone seemed to know each other already. But after only a day or so I realised the people sitting in little groups nattering away were people serving on juries together, or who clearly belonged to the same social cliques outside court - like the skate kids who sat in the corner being hairy and showing off more leg than you generally expect to see on a man in a government building.
But what really made it for me was being told at least once a day that what I was doing was really important, a vital civic duty. I knew reading was good for you, but it now has a whole new significance.

2010-05-28T17:16:00.002+01:00

In recent years I've been called a tomboy, and told I'm "not very girly, are you?" despite my love of most things indigo and cerise.
But there must be some baseline level of femininity within me, because I have to ride a stepthrough bike and I can't for the life of me work out why so many men I see cycling ride with their knees out to *here*, like they've been stung in the groin.
Why?
It's bad enough, when you're on public transport, that there'll be a carriage full of people keeping to their own seat's width of space that some bloke'll sit down and force his legs so far apart yours end up on those of the person on your other side. But on a *bike*? It's not because these men are worried about the effects on their genitalia, is it? For one thing, bikers, even big hairy ones ("...full of sperm" - 10 Things...), ride with all their anatomy firmly against the saddle / shanks of their machines, and for another there are saddles designed to relieve any pressure on your chaps if you're really concerned about squishing etc.
Is it that there are hundreds of men unfortunate enough to be attacked by bees whenever they get on their bicycles? Or are they so lacking in upper body strength (apparently a problem with many cyclists) that they can't tighten the bolts holding the saddle in place enough to stop it worming its way down while they ride? Or are they having trouble with their underwear (I saw, and overtook, one lad the other night for whom this was evidently the problem, cos he kept lifting himself up slightly and tugging at the other leg of his baggies)?
Is it really that difficult to ride with your knees, if not together, then not at right angles to the rest of your body?

Reflections from a small bit of the left, the morning after

2010-05-07T13:33:00.004+01:00

Liberals (with a small 'l') are notoriously rubbish at making big decisions (much like one of the other Libs I know, a Norwegian Libran who uses it as an excuse to not order food or pick where to go for a night out until the very last minute). We don't like upsetting people, because our basic ideology has everyone get along and not impose our values / ideas / political parties on you all.
In the past, this has been a reasonably easy conundrum to deal with come election time. You can either be true to your cause and vote for a party which doesn't stand much chance because no one else does, or vote as tactically as you can to stop your least favourite party advancing.
Only this year it went wrong.
We actually had what looked like a choice.
Two parties on the left is not always a Good Thing. Face it, if you lean to the right but your views aren't repulsive to most people, you basically have one party to vote for. If you're a lefty, there are various shades of Left you can go for - and if you're a green-tinged lefty it gets even more complicated. (If you're a green-tinged lefty, however, who thinks nuclear power is vital if the next few decades are going to be bearable, you're pretty much on your own, but that's another issue.) The result is that while we all want pretty much the same thing - a Left-leaning government, we all have different ideas on which of the parties available would give us the best version.
The other big issue here is that it's been a pretty torrid time for a lot of people in the past couple of years, and if you're in charge you're going to take the rap. So naturally there's been a good bit of protest / time-for-a-change voting making its presence felt.
But the problem for the left is that it split its own vote.
Would PR fix that? Possibly. It looks like the number of votes for the Lib Dems went up by roughly 1% to 23%; there's fewer than two million votes between them and Labour (29%) nationwide, but before last night they only had 59 seats - and they lost four overall.
It's pretty clear that with the reports of disorganisation and anger at numerous polling stations, a basic shake-up and review is needed. But the need for change in the electoral process goes much deeper than that - and that, I think, is where many Lefties, and definitely the Lib Dems among us, are going to have to clamour hardest for a victory.

Barney gets jealous

2010-05-05T23:11:00.003+01:00

A couple of weeks ago the lads brought Violet down from the garage, where she had lived since I moved back to London, and I decided to give her a spin to see how badly she'd taken two years of neglect.
My thighs, while muscley, were not amused. I had thought I'd done quite well till tripping down the steps into Waitrose became tumbling down the steps.
I actually really enjoy cycling. My favourite day in Chicago last year was the one I spent pootling up and down Lakeshore Drive on a comfort hybrid, occasionally engaging in races with four-year-olds with wobbly stabilisers and being cut up by rollerbladers.
But living in London - on the top floor of a block of flats on top a big hill - had always acted as a deterrent to the habit.
So after the test run, in which I discovered the 18 gears I'd once had were effectively now two and a half - start, flat out and, if lucky, something in between - I decided it was time to invest in a new plaything.
This is what Indy (short for Indigo) looks like, except she has a funky basket on the front and a set of old panniers on the back, and me perched on the saddle, grinning madly most of the time I'm out on the roads - because there's nothing like the joy of two wheels.
I could have gone the secondhand route, but as Vi is probably going to end up on Freecycle herself (with the note that she needs new brake pads and a new gear set as a matter of urgence), I figured I'd save myself similar stress and go new.
I've already been asked for directions by fellow cyclists, grinned and waved at, and wished a good day as I've overtaken or been overtaken.
And my thighs are a bit less wobbly than they were, despite a slight increase in cake consumption. I call that a result.

2010-03-30T12:59:00.000+01:00

I'm with the pig:

I am yours, you can do what you like with me

2010-03-27T20:57:00.003Z

I'm playing this on almost constant repeat at the moment:

It's rare I can resist the charms of a musician so obviously enjoying himself when performing, but despite the beautiful voice, the beautiful sentiments and the obvious talent, I'm as yet unmoved by Fyfe himself.
Give it time. The amount I'm playing this, it's bound to happen.

Enjoy the silence

2010-03-14T15:44:00.004Z

Yikes. I didn't realise it had been so long.
I didn't want to write about anything before I'd put up my holiday diary, but I've been a lazy cow and I'm still deciphering and typing up my notes.
And it's been an eventful few months.
Ooops.
Anyway, I'm sort of back now. Sorry again.

US holiday 2009: Chicago

2009-09-20T00:00:00.003+01:00

CHICAGO!
Tuesday 1 September
West Egg Cafe on N Fairbanks / E Ohio St for breakfast of oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar, and a fruity muffin. Walk down to Chicago Cultural Centre for tourist type information. (Interesting side note: In Chicago they spell 'theatre' correctly, but not 'center') Head upstairs to see the Tiffany Dome and the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) Memorial Room.
Walk back up to river for the brilliant Chicago Architecture Foundation's tour - 90 minutes on the Chicago River gazing up at the city's most impressive buildings. Nice to hear that the Lakeshore and waterway are fairly well protected by various ordinances - no one's allowed to build on Lakeshore, so everyone can enjoy it instead.
Wee wander around Millennium Park, eating quick lunch under Frank Gehry-designed Jay Pritzker Pavillion before going to have head messed with by The Bean. Various other cool sculptures too - Crown Fountain and the Boeing Gallery's modern Chinese sculpture display. Big red Godzilla-esque piece my favourite.
Pete wants to see the Canyon - LaSalle Street. Possibly the Loop's narrowest street, made to feel v enclosed by the sheer height of the buildings on two sides and the old Dept of Trade building (Gotham City Hall / Wayne Industries) at its end.
Quick recharge and shower at hotel before venturing onto the El to Addison / Wrigley Field for Cubs v Astros game. Is fun! Dinner = footlong Big Dawg hotdog with cheese and fries. Baseball bingo to while away hours if game a bit dull. Everyone (inc me and Pete) sings Take Me To The Ballgame at the end of the 7th inning. Cubs win 4-1.

Wednesday 2 September
Breakfast at West Egg again - more oatmeal. Is healthy and filling and I get a muffin for 11ses with it.
Feels like a v long walk down to Museum Campus via Buckingham Fountain. We are being stalked by a segway rider on a tour. First sighting here; there will be more during day.
Adler Planetarium v pretty. Built in 30s in Art Deco style, dodecahedronal shape with zodiac constellation on each corner. Expanded around original building since, so special exhibits inside original building, other stuff and big theatre etc in expanded premises. Big draw is Jim Lovell's collection of Gemini / Apollo mementoes. Grey-ometer from Apollo 8. Various helmets. Fecal sample bag. Watch film on IBEX (edge of solar system exploration) in 3D.
Yer typical cool interactive-but-informative exhibits. Seems am not v good at putting planets in safe orbits. Show on the night sky - and I knew it all! Played at making telescopes. Drove a Mars Rover, crash-landed a lunar module. Charlie Duke would still be holding his breath were I in charge of Apollo 11's Eagle.
Bus back up to Loop. Gird loins for Sears / Willis Tower Skydeck. Do Ferris Bueller bit of standing on barrier to see even straighter down. Safer and less scary than The Ledge!!! Manage to stand on it after about five minutes and look down without clinging onto side like namby-pamby I am.
Pizzeria Uno for original authentic deep-dish pizza. Is basically pie crust with cheese and tomato, then toppings, and v stodgy. Not eating till late so starving, and ordered buffalo wings and garlic bread first. Possibly a mistake. Only manage two slices each before stomach explodes and am wheeled out by embarrassed staff, or near enough. Get other half of pizza in doggy bag. SHould keep us going the rest of the week.

Thursday 3 September
Museum mania!
Have to take obligatory photo outside Field Museum of dinosaur skeleton arranged to look like it's eating Chicago buildings across road. Inside exhibition explains politely but firmly that evolution happened. How DNA works. Man-eating lions of Tsavo were badly stuffed originally and therefore much smaller and less impressicve looking than they should be. But excellent patch-up job a few years back means they do still look like lions. Cats v dogs room full of canine / feline relatives.
Lunch @ Corner Bakery Cafe with cream cheese brownie for afters.
Across to Aquarium. Amazon Rising: Didn't know bits of the Amazon flood massively every year, with whole ecosystem changing around it. Fish living next to monkeys and all sorts. Gorgeous beluga whales, most of penguins being a bit aloof bar one playing up for visitors, v cute sea otters, white-sided dolphins who like swimming upside down, seahorses and sea dragons. Indulge Pete and watch Spongebob Squarepants 4D short. Poked, sprayed, shaken, have icky smelly air blown at us and giggle more than small kids watching.
Massive portion of tagliatelle for dinner from Pompei Bakery next to hotel. Keeping some for later in week. Pete still determined to finish the pizza.
Bus up to Old Town for Second City. Cry with laughter several times.* May also be influence of v nice Chicago Fire cocktails from bar - orange vodka, peach liquer, cranberry juice and grenadine. Hic giggle etc.
*"Everyone name something scary." "Baltimore."

Friday 4 September
Museum of Science and Industry. In lobby is Harry Potter's Ford Anglia. Stopped taking pics by boy wanting to get to Omnimax to see Mysteries of the Great Lakes. Imax screens make my eyes go funny. Could spend forever in Henry Crown Space Centre. Apollo 15 stuff here - John Young and Charlie Duke's suits! Small fangirl moment. Bigger fangirl moment when brought over to replica Capcom desk and get to pretend to *be* Charlie Duke. Losing count of how many Apollo capsules we've seen now. Off to v big hangar to walk around Actual German U-Boat, U505, and go inside. Small, cramped and scary, and only 10 of us in there. Cool interactie displays around it too. Get to write Enigma message and try balancing sub at different depths. Corridors between some exhibition wings contain cool Art+Science=Architecture exhibit, which basically iconic buildings as done in Lego. V disappointed by Blue Stairs. Used to contain slices of convict who promised his body to science, but refurbishment being done on that section. Trying to leave, but pulled in by Genetics, ridiculously cute chicks in hatchery, Fast Forward section on future technology and the Great Train Story with lovely old silver Zephyr engine.
Attempt to walk off Italian beef sandwich with extra cheese with wander up Mag Mile for photos and window shopping. Goes slightly wrong in Borders when end up buying more books. Small space in stomach filled with bad nasty but gorgeous chocolatey desert things from 7-11.
A moment to remember Sam's Doctor Who trainers. Ceremonially dumped today after sole of right one cracks through to insole all the way across halfway down foot.

Saturday 5 September
West Egg Cafe absolutely heaving this morning.
Bike'n'Roll rental picked up just before 11, v comfy hybrid. Just as well. Cycle almost 26 miles before returning bike around 4pm. Head down to Northern Island and 12th St beach then 35th St beach. Back up to Navy Pier for turn-off to river walk for lunch (from Corner Bakery Cafe on Wacker), then up to Foster St Beach via totem pole and Diversey Harbour. Back down, turning west at Diversey to Lincoln Park, past zoo. Back onto Lakeshore Drive to big beach north of Ohio St Beach for quick sunbathe and paddle in Lake Michigan before taking bike back and wondering why legs aren't hurting.
Shower!
Rejoin Pete to head back to Navy Pier in search of Chicago hot dog. Go on Ferris Wheel. Midges out in droves and enjoying feasting on me. Up to end of pier. Gorgeous night, but midges driving me mad. Head back to hotel for chilled evening in bar with computers.

Sunday 6 September
Old Town for brunch and wander. Savories provides breakfast bagel with espresso (scrambled) eggs and cheese and fresh juice and tea. Pay tribute to masters of cakeage at Twisted Bakery with cookies, muffin, chocolate and red velvet cupcakes.
Mag Mile for another wander and MASSIVE salad from Fressh (@ back of Water Tower Place, v badly laid out mini mall).
Knackered. Slob at hotel with book.
Pete wants to go take pics around the Loop. Really up for this, but only realise when we've walked down there that I haven't got camera in my bag. Poo.
Eventually end up at Jake Melnick's. Sit at bar nursing Two Bros Domaine DuPage (beer of the week) while waiting for table. Turkey swiss burger w' onions, mushrooms and lettuce and bucket of skinny fries. Heart attack in a pan. Jones strawberry lime to drink. Like Woody's. Memories of student days. Happy again.

Monday 7 September (Labour Day)
Oak Park for Frank Lloyd Wright home / studio tour. El goes through places like The Wire's Baltimore. V late brunch of sorts at little Italian place - Italian meatball sub w' mozzarella and marinara sauce and light pasta / pesto salad w' cherry toms.
Walk up Foster Avenue playing Spot the Lloyd Wright. Actual home is lovely - done in v dull earthy colours but still airy and flowy inside. Tour whizzes by. Am picking paint colours.
Hit by sudden exhaustion as tour heads into studio. V dehydrated. Down two bottles of water, refill, down more. Still wibbly. Oreo ice cream helps a bit.
Play Spot The Lloyd Wright again on walk back to El - notice far more this time, with help of leaflet proving right or wrong.
El back into Chicago. Pete noticeably (to me) nervous in some parts of journey. Corner Bakery Cafe for more sugar in form of three-citrus bundt. Sit by river in sun and slowly start feeling more normal.
Amble across to Fox and Obel. Pete nearly faints at existence of $11 sandwich. In food presentation heaven. Also finally find Chicago-made chocolate - Vosges, who like odd flavour combinations. Pete gets the bacon variety and predictably loves it. Store is offering free bag with every +$30 shop - so I now own v nice Fox and Obel bag!
No question where to go for dinner - straight over to Jake Melnick's for meatloaf with mash and mushroom gravy. Pete has pork trio - a couple of southern bbq marinades and Jake's own sauce - and fries. More beer and American Woody's.
Roll back to hotel.

Tuesday 8 September
Oprah's 24th season starts with big street party this evening. Mag Mile closed from the bridge up to a few blocks north of our hotel. Book airport transfer extra early to allow for traffic madness. Needn't have worried, is remarkably quiet. Think lots of people staying home to avoid it all.
Breakfast at O'Hare after check-in. Lots of tea and bags of chocolate-covered pretzels for journey.

US holiday 2009: Seattle

2009-09-19T00:00:00.004+01:00

Sunday 23 August
Flight okay but film loop a bit confused, so end up watching Monsters V Aliens twice, then Last Chance Harvey once and a half (sleep through large chunk of it first time around). Flight attendants are almost pushing wine on us - and it's rank. Have not tasted anything so akin to antifreeze since pre-uni days. Figure they hope we'll sleep so they can rest too.
Arrive at hotel around 5. Is about 4am the next day to us. Decide to have quick refresh then find dinner before going to bed. Gorgeous pizza, stonebaked kind of thing, at Il Fornaio.

Monday 24 August
No of SBX spotted: 11
Quick stop at GPO to send care parcel to US-living friend.
Down to library. Is v freaky, Rem Koolhaas designed, all glass and teetering out across pavement and V COOL. Manage to get on a tour of the building. Equally cool inside, and possibly the only place in the world where more shelves than books - designed to last (San Francisco could learn a few lessons from here).
Picked up at hotel at 2pm by Show Me Seattle tour - v good. Cover Pioneer Square, International District (Chinatown), Qwest and Safeco Fields, the original Skid Row (Yesler Way), Seattle Grace (Grey's Anatomy) hospital - actually the local Fox TV station, Queen Anne, Kerry Park, Magnolia and Ballard locks, the salmon ladder, Fishermen's Terminal, a bit of Fremont, the Lake Union houseboats.
Dinner @ Place Pigalle in Pike Place Market. Quite expensive but very nice. I have light clam chowder then a chicken and bacon roulade.

Tuesday 25 August
Is slightly nippy today. Glad I have long-sleeved tops but not wearing full-length trousers. My legs can handle a small breeze!
Breakfast at Sbx at 1st and Pike (first of 3/4 today. I need a map so I can mark them off properly) ahead of Savor Seattle's Pike Place Market tour. Is not the original, but then the original isn't either, as Brett*, our guide explains later**. We try donuts from Daily Dozen, cinnamon orange black tea from Market Spice, various smoked salmons from Pike Place Fish (the place they throw the fish around), fresh fruit from Frank's Quality Produce, award-winning (and absolutely amazing) New England clam chowder and smoked salmon bisque from Pike Place Chowder, cherry and chocolate confections from Chukar Cherries, cheddar and macaroni cheese from Beecher's Handmade Cheese, lovely greasy bready salmon and beef Piroshky Piroshkys and tiny crab cakes from Etta's Seafood Restaurant. I really like the donuts and the chowder; most people adore the chowder. The 10% discount card means we know where we're coming for lunch the rest of the week.
*Brett is a "skinny, white, north Idaho boy" who keeps us all together by wielding that tourguide favourite, an umbrella. His is bright pink and a little battered. "I'd stand out a mile if I did this at home. Here no one bats an eyelid."
**The 'original Starbucks' is actually a few doors down from where the actual original Starbucks was. They shifted all the machinery and equipment from that place to the slightly bigger one they're now in - but it's near enough and authentic enough no one really cares.
We walk all the way down 1st, on quite a slope, to Pioneer Square, and go on Bill Spiedel's Underground Tour. It's good but not great. The outstanding thing about this place is the hills. Between 3rd and 4th it's ridiculously steep in places, and Yesler Way used to be an almost 45% gradient. The regrade has left a fairly steep hill even so, but at least it's possible to mountaineer up it. The Denny regrade was more drastic, flattening out the whole area to the north of our hotel and towards Seattle Center. It's the hills and their regrading which lead to the underground town being formed. Is kinda spooky. Guide Lea may be good, but she's in charge of a v large group and has to shout to be heard. Not a patch on Brett.
Down to Eliot Bay Book Company, city's biggest independent book shop. Is huge, brilliant and slightly overwhelming. There's a half-level you have to wander along a narrow passage to get up to. Up there is the bargain corner and best view of the shop. Downstairs in the basement is ebc, the cafe which inspired the favoured hangout of the Crane brothers. We have tea and cake and admire the blond wooden surroundings.
Dinner tonight is at Palace Kitchen, a Tom Douglas place (if we'd thought, we could have received 10% off). I have a Dark and Stormy (rum and something) and a Palace Burger with fabulous skin-on shoestring fries and very soft and mild onions. Being vaguely virtuous we then walk up to the Seattle Center to see the Space Needle by night. There are these four weird four-legged tripods (quadpods?) which are lit up by night to look like something out of War of the Worlds, looming over the center; close up they look much smaller and a bit dull. They're inside the Pacific Science Center, which is the kiddies' science museum (I normally pay no attention to the 'children' bit of such titles and go fight my way onto the coolest exhibits but I'm not tempted by anything here. I'll save the museum-ing for Chicago). Odd place at night: just well-enough lit for muggers to see their victims, but there are enough people about to stop it feeling too scary. Walk down to the fountain (off for the night), then along to the EMP / Sci-Fi Museum, where light reflecting off the monorail and the Space Needle makes some very cool reflections.

Wednesday 26 August
Up to EMP. Newest exhibition is a talking history project. Everyone who comes to WA who is music or sci-fi related is interviewed, and their memories edited and shown with other similarly-themed snippets. So Nichele Nicholls is talking about being the first black woman on mainstream telly alongside Henry Rollins talking about being too scared to go and see bands in the Washington DC of his youth, because the venues were all in parts of town where white boys didn't go if they valued their looks. Thought of Henry Rollins being scared of anything makes me smile. He's also there with Jane Wiedlin (who must have a Dorian Gray-esque portrait somewhere), talking about the beginning of punk and how his mum was the most influential woman on the scene, because she put up and fed most of Black Flag's talent at various points in their careers.
The main thing people come here for is the jamming area. Learn how to use effects pedals, build up a couple of riffs, remember how to play Kung Fu on the bass, then watch Pete jam with a couple of five-year-olds in the booths next to his. There's an exhibit on space's influence on music, with lots of album covers from the 60s showing off the big fascination of the time. It's a bit flat though, so downstairs to relive teenage infatuation with long-haired young musicians from area, particularly younger, gormless-looking, Dave Grohl.
Is clear day, shall we go up the Space Needle? Brilliant views; you can even see Mount Rainier.
Monorail! (part one)
March across to Pike Place Chowder for award-winning lunch in a bread bowl. What exactly are Oyster crackers?
Think I'm starting to hate hill between Pike Place and 1st. Way too steep with belly-full of chowder. Slouch back towards Downtown for
Monorail! (part two)
Back at Seattle Center, for Sci-Fi Museum. Rough Guide doesn't like this place, suggests it's a geeks' library gone mad - lots of first edition books no one else has ever heard of and obscure props. I don't call Starship Enterprise (D) obscure, nor Matt LeBlanc's bodysuit from Lost In Space nor teddy bear from AI. It is way cool even if one hall closed for refurbishiment, and we think is the one where Darth Vader and Cylon Centurion are hiding.
Is gorgeous day but am flagging. Don't want to go home so to Top Pot for a doughnut and latte. Haven't had caffeinated coffee for years. Makes tummy not brilliant. Have already decided against big dinner; while looking for corner shop for sandwiches we find Ralph's Deli. Imagine Waitrose as a small open-all-hours indie and you're getting there. Peppermint tea for ailing stomach and various other supplies, including Seattle Chocolates milk chocolate truffle bar. Will save for when tummy feels better.

Thursday 27 August
Planning to go to Fremont on Saturday for a tour of Theo Chocolate's factory, so we get the bus there to see how long it takes. Cool little place. Not much open till 11, except Sbx (spotted today: 2). Go hunting for public art. Climb to Troll is not fun, but is worth it. Unit to let in Troll Apartments on Troll Avenue, right opposite the big rocky bugger. Roll back down the hill in need of refreshment. Walk past the Center of the Universe and Lenin to the Fremont Coffee Co, where I find a postcard for Gromit to send. Is possibly coolest coffee place I've ever been in; a house with stripped and varnished wooden floors and rugs and tables and chairs in every room. On wander back from here to Fremont centre via Theo we find v funky store selling T-shirts emblazoned local business logos. Fall in love with several and promise to return. Also stop at the Rocket at the Center of the Universe. As we're taking pictures, small boy walks past with his friend, looks at underside, says "I told you it was gas powered," and carries on walking.
Rough Guide seriously letting us down today. Couldn't have spotted that one cafe it recommends has only just closed, but another has become a well-established looking hairdresser, and the place it says should be the base for cruises of Lake Union is Adobe headquarters.
Take bus to ferry terminal and get time on water by going to one of the islands. Half hour journey at $6.40 return to Bainbridge. Town on the island, Wilmslow, is v small - basically one street, two tiny malls, a much bigger than you'd expect wine shop and only one chain, a Subway. Extremely hot so we duck into the Eagle Bay Bookstore, which is air-conditioned. Spend an hour in there quite easily. Back to ferry and the Market. Piroshky piroshky on the grass, and cheesecakes from the Confectional for desert later.
Another beautiful afternoon where I'm tired but don't want to go inside, so ginger beers outside Top Pot watching SUVs go by. Pete is creature of habit who likes Ralph's, so he has another sandwich and I have very rich chilli soup over [adultswim]. What *are* oyster crackers?
Happily tired.

Friday 28 August
Utterly terrified by thought of Boeing 787. The fastest selling plane of all time, but has yet to have a successful test flight. The wings keep coming off. Had heard about it before, but on drive up to factory, Show Me Seattle's Jerry keen to tell us all its problems, partly because he wants to get them out of way before we get there. We are not to mention said teething problems on the tour. Not that we get chance, because tour guide Christopher* is very proud of his company and talks contantly (while walking backwards down access tunnels as well) about how great they and the facility are. Bloody impressive building. You don't get sense of scale until up close or inside, when you realise coach you've been driven there in is a sixth of height of hangar door.
*You know the older guy from Anchorman, who does the sports? He was in Out Cold too as the narrator character. Christopher is just like him.
Today it's the turn of Beechers' Handmade Cheese to provide us with lunch, with 'the best mac and cheese in the world'. Is pretty damned good.
Finally get to Dahlia Bakery. Is tiny, just a corner carved out of Dahlia Lounge. Coconut cream bites they're famous for are mouthful of choux pastry and fluffy cream; flan version is about 7" across and 3" high. Chocolate fudge cookie and malted chocolate eclair with sea salt for desert later, after Ralph's Deli turkey, swiss and dijon on marbled rye sandwich.

Saturday 29 August
Theo Chocolate is seriously the best I've ever had. I've only ever liked Montezuma's 38% milk as much as I like this stuff. Every type of bar they do is available to try, with masses of broken-up bars around the shop to sample. Furniture and decor gives place the air of an olde-style living room, with a massive fireplace in one corner. I could live here, is that sort of place. Only thing that bothers me is recipe for their Scotch whisky truffles. Only 1tbsp of alcohol per batch - about 100 chocolates. I use one shot per 150ml cream! Brilliant tour, really informative, well-paced and full of tastings. I spend $74 in the shop afterwards. They don't sell anywhere but Seattle and a few Whole Foods Markets around the US, they *think* they post to customers abroad but aren't sure - so I can't risk it and must stock up.
Long humid walk along Burke-Gilman trail to Gasworks Park. Photographer's dream, lots of corrosion and texture and detail, and blokes playing wargames and people learning how to free-run using children's playground. Massive barbecue grill on grass, surrounded by people on bikes. How did they get it here?
Pete obsessed with the seaplanes which take off and land on Lake Union. Downtown skyline impressive, and you can see the houseboats much better here than anywhere else so far.
Back in Fremont centre we get what could be smuggest sandwiches ever. Homegrown only make food with locally sourced, sustainable ingredients which are organic wherever possible, they only serve tap water, they make their own crisps and their take-away packaging is all made from recycled materials. Also, food is gorgeous. If I lived here (which I think I would like more and more), I'd be here as often as possible.
Also, across road is Simply Dessert. Oh. My. Word. Pete has slice of very fruity pie and I have ridiculously rich, but still very light, red velvet cake.
Have been browsing in Fremont Place Books for five minutes when I realise this is where Heath Ledger tries to win over Julia Stiles by asking about The Feminine Mystique in 10 Things I Hate About You. Then I find a copy of Michael Tolliver Lives, which I've been wanting for ages.
American grid system makes my sense of direction fall over. Fremont a bit curvy and diagonal, so finding Destee Nation again takes longer than expected. Present for Colin, couple of T's for me. Mango iced tea at Peet's before collapsing in heap at hotel.
Making effort for dinner - Ivar's [Acres of Clams!] for Malibu Bay Breeze, caesar salad and wild Alaskan salmon. Gorgeous evening on waterfront, almost romantic.

Sunday 30 August
Repacked, checked in on United Airlines, worry about weight of bags.
Bus to Alki Beach. Fog rolling in off the Sound, keeps visibility down to about 200m till about 1300. Beautiful blue sky above but ghost world at ground level. Burns off to leave beautiful day and crowded beachfront. Honeybran muffin and strawberry lemonade from Alki Bakery for lunch sitting on big bit of driftwood on beach. Tully's for chocolate shake. Sandy feet!
Bus back to Market and Fran's chocolates. Head to Daily Dozen for cinnamon sugar doughnuts. Buy two cap-style hats to keep sun off head, new leather wristband. Top Pot to get Ben's mug.
USA network showing Bond all day - finally see end of Casino Royale (saw almost all of it on flight back from Aus two-plus years back). Men In Black and Ralph's sandwiches to end day.

Monday 31 August
Five hour flight to Chicago, watching Star Trek. Arrive late afternoon.
V posh hotel. Get chocolate chip cookie on check-in. Promptly revert to kid-like behaviour and have fights in lifts over who presses the right button first.
Collapse in bed knackered.

Ofally difficult / meaty matter / insert your own pun here

2009-08-09T11:18:00.005+01:00

I've been on something of a green revolution recently.
It started last year when we were in the US where I picked a book called Green Chic. On reading it, I found myself frequently thinking the author was wussing out. Not willing to take even *slightly* cooler showers, let the toilet mellow even once between flushes or give up chilling her glass of wine to perfection? Okay, so I can understand why not all women like the idea of using reusable sanitary supplies, but to dismiss it out of hand with a simple "ick", without exploring any of the options seemed a little silly to me - or is that a marker of my own attitudes these days?
What really got me thinking was the really quite inspiring Green as a Thistle blog run by a Toronto-based arts and entertainment reporter, who has now published the book to the right about the experience. What seemed like a very simple premise - one small change every day for a year - actually ends up being quite a challenge, as the poor girl had to remember all of them day to day, and come up with them all in the first place - and as she found out during the year, even the really good companies have their drawbacks (Neal's Yard and Method, both of whom are lovely and pretty clear about their objectives and values, insist on continuing to use SLS despite the concerns raised by its use), which makes being really green without moving to a small house in the woods extremely difficult. No wonder so many environmentalists lack a sense of humour; they're too exhausted.
Anyhoo, both Vanessa and the good people at Riverford extol the virtues of eating locally - and therefore seasonally - produced food. I try. Seasonal generally means fruit and veg, which for us is mostly taken care of through Riverford's weekly deliveries. But until today, when I was checking off a piece on the 'food revolution' Labour wants to start in Britain, I hand't realised how wrong it seems to me to focus on just this. There's the massive issue of food wastage, of which we're all a little bit guilty, there's the method of production and there's the fact that most of us are omnivores.
I am not giving up sausage sandwiches any time soon - although it's been ages since I've had a bacon butty, so perhaps I've uninentionally given up those - but I am trying to figure out how I can eat less meat without foregoing the protein fix I need at lunchtime if I'm not to keel over within an hour of eating. Don't tell me to try a stirfry for work lunches - you try making them at 5am or stomaching one that's gone soggy and brown after being made the night before an early shift.
This is when I really do think growing up with supermarkets has done us an immense amount of damage. In one of Jamie Oliver's books is a chart showing every commonly eaten animal and the cuts of meat you can get from them, the sort of image I remember being fascinated by when it was in poster form on the wall of the local cash-and-carry when I was about four, and that you still see on the odd butcher's wall.
But generally, you don't see them on butchers' walls because you don't see butchers. I don't know where our local one is, and I'm a little nervous about finding them and asking for all those other, economical, obscure cuts of meat - and whether you can buy ear and cheek and all the other bits that usually go to waste anywhere than a specialist outlet.
It's much easier to shower in the semi-dark, wear the same pair of jeans till they're about ready to walk off on their own and get wise on the sorts of plastic I can recycle via the council or Tesco.

Nature's mysteries, part 1

2009-07-14T10:46:00.002+01:00

Remember the whale that swam up the Thames?
Perhaps she was just looking for a good cuppa:

I should have no problem then

2009-06-30T13:42:00.002+01:00

I'm used to sweating, being gifted with a body that seems to panic about possibly getting warm at any point above freezing and medication which increases a person's propensity to get all damp.
I'm used to wearing layers and loose clothing (but not too loose - you don't want trousers floating stylishly wide on your legs if your thighs are sticking together inside them) and drinking a lot.
Which, in this weather, as my employer is keen to tell everyone (see 12th par from bottom), is just what we should be doing.
Good.
Shame they didn't mention how vital Soleros and large jugs of elderflower cordial with mint are, or I'd have the full slate of healthy summer whims.

2009-06-10T17:15:00.002+01:00

So what do you do with a kohlrabi?

Bad Pete

2009-06-08T20:36:00.001+01:00

Mentioned in a text a copuple of plan-ettes I had for my days off this week. He sent me a link to The Londonist proclaiming Bea's of Bloomsbury to be the next best thing since Victoria slices.
I feel a tea party in the British Museum's Great Hall coming on.

2009-06-08T19:16:00.005+01:00

I can't help thinking, having listened to one disgruntled MP talking about how Parliamentary Labour Party meetings have worked (or not, depending on your perspective) recently is that they're very much like the old image of the Women's Institute meeting. They all file in, and listen to some nice lady talking about cheese-making or similar.
Tonight's must be like having the original Calendar Girls in.

Normal service is resumed

2009-06-08T18:56:00.000+01:00

Much as I generally dislike animal stories, the fact is they do very well for us at work.
Before I launch my crusade to process only that material feautring animals with a minimum set level of skill - say the canine equivalent of Tony Hawks, or a cat who is at least Grade 4 (like me) on their instrument of choice - I bring you the skateboarding bulldog.
Where's Harry Hill when you need him?

Woman trouble

2009-06-06T21:12:00.005+01:00

There are times - not many - when I thoroughly dislike being a girl.
For two of roughly every 33 days all I want to do is curl up on the sofa, drinking tea and hot chocolate while I suffer from constant gods-awful wind and a similar never-ending urge to go to the loo. Nothing has been invented that can deal with the sheer volume those first two days, nor that can make the way parts of my body distort less painful when trying to deal with their efforts.
(Do any other women find their insides warping and expanding and being downright painful to the touch for a week or so around their periods?)
I have beautiful soft fleecy washable liners, which you can layer up to get the level of protection you need, which helps the indestructible internal protection cope - on their own, either would be overwhelmed in less than an hour.
But the promise of being able to forget about the whole thing and go rollerblading down a beachfront?
It's true the damned things are shorter than they once were, but the bit that's decreased in length is the far more comfortable end of the process, leaving me to continue to suffer feeling grumpy, gassy and cursing my second X chromosome.

Two things

2009-05-26T23:21:00.001+01:00

Firstly, do not remember ever seeing so much *green* in the landscape before. I probably have, but I don't remember driving through countryside that was practically neon before. I know most occasions I'm on the home stretch of the M6 it's dark, but I don't remember ever having seen the heart-shaped forest (insert your own version of the WWII-based origins story here) near Tebay actually looking so heart-shaped. It's all most verdant.
Secondly, I am the newest member of the club of people whose cars pass their MOTs first time. I have never, ever had a car which gets through its MOT without serious work needed on some part of it before. Prior to this year, much as I love my motors, it has always been a case of be loved by Sam, be steadily worn to little bits by Sam. Ask Gromit and Flopsy. But this year I dropped Barney at Howat's pretty much convinced she was going to fail - ominous rattlings from one of the exhaust shields again, the funny sound I think is actually paranoia made mechanical where I thought a wheel bearing was going, her ability to drink oil like Pete does ginger beer (not much, but in almost binge-like style when they do). And yet I had three advisories which Dad made a 'meh' sound at - meaning, 'I can do those for you at some point...', had one pinch bolt (?) replaced, and passed! I must get her balloons to celebrate.
Actually, three things.
Homemade Mississippi Mud Pie. Leave it a few days after baking. The filling goes from being set and creamy but very sweet, a bit like cheesecake, to dense, fudgy and ridiculously rich and satisfying. Were it not a heart attack in a pie dish I'd eat it constantly.

Tie Breaker

2009-05-16T11:00:00.004+01:00

Oh come on!
When I was at senior school, we were told to tuck our ties into our shirts once we were in the technology block (RIP), or keep our jumpers on, which would keep them well out of the way of a sanding machine or hob - and we had aprons too!
I refuse to believe that's why the tie is being phased out of schools. As for the other health and safety situations in which a tie could be dangerous: the point of most H&S assessments is to point out the risks and how to make sure they don't become threats, rather than to say "oooh, that's dangerous, so you'd better not do it". As that's the result of most of the investigations we get to hear about in the Daily Mail and its wannabe local equivalents, I can only assume LEAs have heard that some children use their ties as implements of torture, for flicking other students, hanging them on the coatpegs (does any school have them, or cloakrooms, any more?) and attempted strangulations in the lower school bogs. Bullying is generally considered A Bad Thing, but I can't imagine the PTB thinking banning ties will solve the problem.
As for concerns about preventing kids from customising their uniforms... I remember Dad asking as he dropped me off one day if the girls from the school across the road were actually wearing skirts because he couldn't see much sign of one below the hems of their very baggy, chunky knit, cricketers' style jumpers. We were never told to take off our jewellery in cookery, because we weren't supposed to be wearing it to start with. Getting mixed raw ingredients out of the fine detail of a sovereign ring is hard work. My favourite school jumper was full of holes, including some I'd really worked at on the cuffs as a way of keeping my hands warm in the colder classrooms.
Kids will always find a way to make their uniform more personal.
So WTF?

Nippy runaround, one previous owner

2009-05-09T07:46:00.004+01:00

Is this the world's smallest car?

I have a small ginger dog who'd love one. But what of the previous owners? Pat must have been sniffing the stamp adhesive not to notice something's not quite right behind that steering wheel.

2009-05-07T15:30:00.003+01:00

There was this absolutely drop-dead gorgeous Asian girl on the tube this morning when I got on.
She had flawless mid-toned olive skin and those fantastic dark eyes that seem to flash and glow at the same time.
And she was layering on concealer that would have looked overly pale on this very British pink-and-white complexion.
I know there's quite a lot of pressure on Asian and black women to be "fair", with women who have darker skin facing the same sort of belittling that anyone over a size 12 gets for not being skinny and therefore "beautiful", but this lass was paler than most of the slightly tanned white women on the train.
Eh??

How cool is the frog?

2009-05-07T10:12:00.000+01:00

2009-04-30T09:46:00.002+01:00

Thank you, Stephen Jones, for reassuring me it isn't just because I'm Northern that I dislike Robert Peston:
"Here we are, still knee deep in credit crunch stories. And while we are at it, has anyone worked out yet what that supercilious, mock-dramatic, hatchet-faced economics "expert" on BBC News is actually on about, apart from being determined to milk his half hour in the spotlight?"

2009-04-28T18:50:00.001+01:00

Interesting culinary mistake: using what I thought were all of baby leeks but were actually wet garlic into my stir-fried curried veg.
Mouth burning in an interesting and possibly bad-for-vampires way.

Wormholes

2009-04-27T13:38:00.002+01:00

Standing in the wind and rain at Ealing Broadway, waiting for my train into work earlier, I had a sudden flash of Bradford.
Nothing specific, no location or particular memory, just an overwhelming feeling of my old uni town.
It was almost like I could turn around or take a step backward, and vanish through a wormhole connecting me to Great Horton Road or the pub in the middle of the roundabout.
Weird, but not entirely unpleasant.

That's seven in my (metaphorical) book

2009-04-20T07:39:00.002+01:00

Considering three of the recipes here are basically the same thing, served with different forms of starch and a slight change in the herbs / spices, and making one of those means you can moake a fourth, I think that's a maximum of seven recipes people know by heart.
Mind you, what does it say about me that most of the recipes I know without thinking about them are for sweet things?

2009-04-14T13:46:00.002+01:00

Sigh.

One day I can only hope to be as good as David Ward. My shots of Whitby still have some way to go before they match his. But if that means giving up my digital kit to lug about beautiful Victorian equipment I'll settle for being quite good rather than brilliant - I'd be too scared of damaging the equipment, or spend forever trying to get pictures of all the detail in their construction.

There's always a critic

2009-03-29T12:54:00.002+01:00

2009-03-29T07:46:00.005+01:00

Walking back from the garage after dropping Barney off the other week, I found a gorgeous old car parked up in front of some garages. It had seen far better days - its windows were broken, it was covered in rust, its tyres were bald where they weren't perished. But it was still a Thing of Beauty with its wonderful curves and tarnished chrome.
I'd love to have the knowledge, the patience and the money to restore such a car, so it's with a small degree of envy that I watched a piece on Breakfast this morning about a shed full of neglected classics, going on auction in Norfolk today. Some of them are salvageable, still recogniseably car-like and willing to respond to a bit of TLC. Others were less fortunate and didn't even get into the shed, left outside for the elements to attack and trees to grow around.
Among them is a 1930s Riley, everything you expect an old car to look like from what you learned in the movies, and still undeniably gorgeous. It's worth thousands even in the state it is, and will take far more to restore - but can you imagine the thrill of taking it out for a spin once you had?

Funny to a sleep-deprived person anyway

2009-03-29T06:12:00.001+01:00

Fill in the word missing from this genuine BBC News website headline:
"Wind powered car breaks ______ "
Heh.

2009-03-22T18:50:00.004Z

I spent a good five minutes ranting about this item when it went out this afternoon, wittering to anyone who would listen - but mostly myself - about how you couldn't confuse Battlestar with Star Trek, no matter how much people may think Jean-Luc Picard and James T Kirk taught them everything they know about coping in a crisis and how to deal with conflict.
Then I saw the promo on our page, shown here:
Not entirely sure a Cylon - especially a toaster - would be the ideal delegate to send to a students' UN conference on the issues facing the world today.

2009-03-21T22:39:00.002Z

"...should I ever cave and get a sat-nav..."
I got one. It arrived last week, just after Barney had gone to the garage.
It's changed my life already. I hate it and love it in equal measure.

2009-03-17T13:27:00.002Z

I'm considering becoming a hermit.
A modern hermit, you understand, like Sandra Bullock in The Net.
I already find it much easier to cope with the world via the keyboard and monitor, and my growing physical dislike of noise and modern world smells means it's often much more pleasant to stay inside, away from choking perfume and overly loud ringtones.
I work online. Surely I could rig up some way to do that from home?
I do most of my shopping through websites, grocery and otherwise. I can even get a 5% discount on Tops Pizza if I order via their website rather than phoning.
But I like the outdoors.
I love pootling about in the car.
Discovering new places is one of my favourite things.
No matter how good my baking, I can't eat a full batch of scones on my own, and run out of freezer space within a couple of hours of embarking on a spree of Domestic Goddessness.
I've noticed a definite increase in my need to be alone and recharge after facing the world, and it's been a difficult winter in mood control central. Even when I was 16 and first diagnosed, I used to take about a week to cycle from good to bad and back, whereas now I can be bawling my eyes out during The Simpsons but happy and smiley by Scrubs an hour later.
It often feels like my mind's broken in two. There's a large bit which loves the world, is connecting properly with it (albeit preferring to do so away from the hordes), has all these plans and ideas, wants to do all the stuff I love. But there's also this significant chunk that rears away from humanity, cannot stand how it feels to be around more than one person at a time, seems hellbent on wrecking the interactions I do have.
Am I becoming my diagnosis?

Adaptation

2009-03-16T16:29:00.002Z

Animals find it easier to move than to evolve, which explains why aliens like grey squirrels do so well here compared to our native reds. It doesn't explain why bison and otters choose to stay in Yellowstone when it would clearly be *much* easier to leave the National Park and live somewhere a little less extreme (and less likely to go *rumblerumblepop* and send most of the northern hemisphere into a nuclear winter in the near future).
But humans find it very easy to adapt.
Only a couple of weeks since Barney's middle exhaust shield came loose, filling my driving hours with a fantastically alarming rattle, it's been fixed. And I miss the sound.

Possible kitchen witchery

2009-03-09T20:55:00.002Z

I'm absolutely entranced and delighted by a programme on BBC Two before Heroes.
James Wong, an ethnobotanist, is teaching anyone who cares to watch how to Grow Your Own Drugs. Pete spotted it last week and decided to record it for me, and I love him very much for it.
Last week it was about using fruit as more than just a coffee table decoration, and this week flowers helped soothe people's excema, acne and sore throats. I swear by Neal's Yard propolis and eucalyptus throat lozenges to keep me in voice during colds and the most intense rugby matches, and I made my own insect repellent last summer from a concoction of vodka and various essential oils, so I'll definitely be trying to make some of James's lavender bath bombs for birthday pressies in the near future.

Almost a perfect combination

2009-02-28T18:56:00.003Z

Shoes in cake form.

What more could you ask for, aside from a range of cakey handbags and other accessories?

(An especially revived) Quotation of the month

2009-02-24T23:59:00.001Z

Mark, on why a close-up should be more of the face and less profile: "You don't really learn much about someone from their ears."
Sam (not me, a different one): "Have you ever seen Star Trek?"

Roadtrip - Day 4

2009-02-23T20:04:00.004Z

Miles driven: 61ish
Terrifying moments while driving: 2
Towns fallen in love with: 1
Times lost: 0, unless driving round and round trying to find somewhere to park once at my location counts. I don't think it does.
Steps climbed: 69, up Caedmon's walk. I took Church Lane, the route of the 199 steps, back from the Abbey to Whitby, but somehow missed the steps themselves and took the olde cobblede donkeye track down the hill instead.
Percentage of mouth burned by lemon sponge with hot curd sauce and custard after several hours plodging around abbey: approx 75%.
Old people accosting blogger in Ripon Cathedral: 2
Teas drunk: 8 cups, twice average daily amount. Actually can't face any more. Need Irn Bru or Vimto.
Driving down Sutton Bank was in no way relaxing. Dad would love it, but I, stuck behind two very large and slow lorries, with a long snake of traffic behind me, a car that sounded like she was screaming because she desperately wanted to fling her legs off the pedals and freewheel down and I insisted on keeping her in a low gear and at a low speed, the weird and wheel-bearing-esque sound from the front that got louder as we hit very slow twisty points, and generally not knowing the road, found it a little frightening. The North Yorkshire Moors are a beautiful part of the world, but I'd have enjoyed that drive much more as a passenger or in a sturdier little car. I treated Barney to a long stop at a petrol station in Thirsk so she could get her axles back on straight and her brakeshoes a little cooler, and I had a chance to let my heart slip from my mouth back into my chest.
Ripon is a lovely little small town which has really suffered from the loss of its central market to the needs of car parking and permanent shops. The cathedral is almost - dare I say it - disappointing. It's way bigger than Carlisle's, which isn't difficult, but to me Carlisle Cathedral is a concept rather than something comparable with other things of the same name. You know how it is when you're little; I thought every town was smack bang next to a motorway because I grew up five minutes' walk from the M6, and that they all had railway stations as grand and proportionally big compared to the population as my hometown - because that was what I'd grown up with, and that was what seemed normal. Now I think about it, you could fit Carlisle Cathedral, bless its new stained glass windows, in a corner of Ripon, but compared to the admittedly grandiose Washington National Cathedral, even to Durham - in fact, even to Boston Stump - Ripon feels somewhat small and dull. What was intersting and cool about it though was the fact that you could actually see restoration in progress. Whenever you go into an old building, there are all those guilt-inducing signs about how much it costs to keep it open and in the state it's in, never mind improve access, fix the hole in the roof, stop that organ pipe from falling on the choir's heads every service and so on. Here it's no exception, but here they're in the middle of rewiring the whole church. It's partly because it's long overdue and partly because of the dreaded Health and Safety, but the net result is that pillars which lead your eye up towards the heavens also lead you to spot men in luminous yellow work vests standing on balconies with large drills, trying to look unobtrusive. It means that while you're examining the midichlorions which are all handcarved, different and somewhat strange (15th century tastes being a little different from ours), you're accompanied by notes from the organ, hesitantly tooted out again and again, while engineers and electricians work out which cable needs to go where to get the right sound. It means access to the crypt is through a bank of red traffic cones and stripy incident scene-style tape, meant to keep people from tripping into the space vacated by one of those large "this stone is laid in memory of..." slabs, moved so new wiring can be laid throughout the church without causing a more lasting trip hazard. It adds a whole surreal edge to your tour, flashes of brightness catching your eye not because of sunlight coming through a stained glass window but from the dayglow jackets the workmen have to wear on the job. And have you ever seen someone trying to drill quietly and respectfully?

Roadtrip - Day 3

2009-02-22T21:33:00.005Z

Windmills: not in this neck of the woods
Photos taken: 100+
Fingers frozen while taking photos: 10. Do not forget gloves when on windy estuaries
Climates encountered: 3 Hull is in its own little ice age.
Times lost: Bridlington
Miles: 120ish. Would have been less were it not for going around in circles looking for somewhere to park in Whitby; see also times lost.
Worrying noises from car: 2. All in Bridlington. Think Barney was as freaked out by our inability to find our way around as me. Also, taking off in third gear doesn't help.
Dogs made friends with: 4. Three were black labs.
Dogs drooling on camera: 2 Both were black labs.
Dogs using me to hide from friendly black labs: 1
Disappointment at night-lighting of Whitby Abbey: very great
Things I want to see and do tomorrow: too many.
I really wanted to like Bridlington, it had two lovely beaches and an old town which looked very cool. But I parked for an hour and spent 20 minutes getting completely lost on the way to the north beach, having followed signs for parking there but ending up somewhere completely different. It took another, almost as long despite following the map, 20 minute wander to find the car park again when I'd had a restorative cup of tea and fruit scone. It's somewhere I'm going to have to go back to, should I ever cave and get a sat-nav.
I really *like* Whitby. It's old and tiny-streeted and hilly and on the coast and the safest place in the world from vampires (see any hallowe'en episode of Buffy for why), and it's very pretty. There are lots of wee streets to explore and prehistoric daleks on the west pier. I've got a lot of exploring still to do before moving on towards Rivaulx Abbey and Ripon tomorrow.

Roadtrip - Day 2

2009-02-21T23:20:00.003Z

Windmills seen: 3 (two approx 3' tall, in someone's garden). Not counting offshore wind farms.
Photos taken: 132+ Began to run out of space on memory card.
Steps climbed: 209 (and then all the way down again. My thighs hurt.)
Miles travelled: 104
Fields of vegetables: too many to keep track
Level of anxiety about driving on road with big ditches right next to them: 5/10. 8/10 when I drove past a Corsa nose down in one, with four 20ish types stood on road scratching heads as to how to get it out again.
Animals behaving suspiciously: numerous rabbits surrounding hotel this morning; one bird, which looked to be escaping the Saltfleet reserve.
Stops made: Kings Lynn town centre, and London Road for picture of and baking from Smiths the Bakers. Boston - three hours - visited Boston Stump, had lunch (and crussha strawberry milkshake) in good old fashioned small cafe, accidentally fell into two bookshops. Skegness - walked on beach, got boots (but not feet) wet, had ice cream, bought rock and toffees.
Detours made: 1. Wanted to go up coastal road from Skegness to Cleethorpes but A1031 closed north of Saltfleet. Detour took me onto very hilly A16. Fear of falling off the edge of flat earth gone again.
Times lost: 0 Amazing!
I liked Boston. I liked the whole of today really, it was just what I wanted when I got this silly roadtrip idea in my head in the first place, but I liked Boston. The chap in the tourist information place, where I popped in to get a map, was telling an older dear in front of me that it has a definite old part and a new part, and I probably stuck to the old part, but it felt like a proper town with its own identity. I saw at least two independent butchers, numerous small bakers, a thriving market, and the little cafe I had lunch in served cakes and bakes so homemade they were whipping up a fresh batch of scones in the back while I ate. Made me feel a pang for my own oven. It's been ages since I baked. Kings Lynn meanwhile was okay, but really benefitted from having the Purfleet running out to the Wash to one side. The quayside had a completely different, very photogenic quality that was somewhat lacking from the rest of the town. That was strange, because a lot of the shops were in old buildings, but once you got away from the streets nearest the water, and the Tuesday market place, there was a lot of concrete-style stuff squeezed in. There was, however, the perkiest looking dead Woolworths I've seen. Lots of posters for local events up *inside* the windows, and the lights were still on. If that's their attitude to utilities, no wonder they went broke.
Highlight of the day would be one of two things, Either the sunset I saw while driving up to Cleethorpes, which made the whole lower sky, not just the clouds, pinky red, or getting to the top of the Stump without passing out, getting stuck in the spiral staircase or freaking on any level. Or, and this is a late entry, sitting in a bus shelter in Cleethorpes eating battered sausage and chips with the best gravy I've had from a fish and chip shop in a long time. It was like being 16 again.

Roadtrip - Day 1

2009-02-20T21:57:00.006Z

Windmills seen: 1
Odd buildings seen and noted for future research: 1
Photos taken: 0
Stops made: 1, at the hotel.
Miles travelled: forgot to check before I refilled the tank
Times lost: 2. Both at the roundabout where the hotel was situated. Once looking for the entrance to said hotel, once trying to find an entrance to the whopping big tesco across the way.
Damn Friday traffic. Leaving London at 2.30, my plan was to hit Ely to get a quick look around the cathedral before pootling on to Kings Lynn for the night, but I was still stuck in circular/orbital traffic 90 minutes later, with at least 60 miles to go. The nice thing about the freakily flat lands of Cambridgeshire/Norfolk is that you can still see the prettily lit-up cathedral from the A10 without too much craning of your neck as you drive past the town. Debating whether to go back tomorrow or push on northwards. Could do it if I got up early enough, I suppose.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

2009-02-18T21:28:00.002Z

Libby Kennedy has been taken by the Pod People.
No one on Ramsay Street has even noticed.
The first inkling I had was when Ben, sat with a strange woman in the General Store read-in protest against Kelly Katsis's suspension, turned to the strange woman - who until then I had assumed to be a teacher - and called her "Mum". I know the poor kid's confused about who he's supposed to call dad, what with the Ghost of Drew, nice-but-can't-stop-cheating Darren, and The Amazing Vanishing Dan, but he's never been in any doubt over who his mum is. Then Steff seemed to think the woman she was offering superstition-beating wedding advice to was her BFF, despite a face which looked completely wrong even before they smeared themselves with curse-repelling goo by mistake.
That raised my suspicions somewhat. Charlie has recently also changed, from a slightly moon-faced but still cute, wispy-haired wee thing who says the odd word but mostly was happy just to hold things up for Ms Scully-Hoyland to look at, into a lion-headed toddler who isn't shy with his thoughts.
Is Steff Scully secretly working for aliens intent on invading the world? Could Didge's pregnancy be more sinister than anyone in Erinsborough could comprehend? And if the answer to these questions is yes, why are they choosing to start in Melbourne?

Local history

2009-02-18T00:55:00.010Z

I've passed through West Acton, North (*ahem*) Ealing and the Hangar Hill area frequently during the last five or so years. The Hangar Hill Gardens estate is very pretty, its mock-Tudor manor-house-breeding-ground appearance somewhat unexpected on rounding the corner from a world of dull inter-war semidetached houses and thoughts of stalking at Wasps' training ground.
But I never gave any thought to the significance of a common name in the area - that of the local pub - before. I was always more intrigued by the manor-farmhouse deal at the other end of the road. It's called the Greystoke. But Pete's best mate has just moved into the area and put an annoying bee into his head. What's with all these Greystoke references?
I fought hard against being pulled in, but when Pete said he couldn't find anything about it on the web, I couldn't resist. What else are you supposed to do during a nightshift, if you're determined not to spend a fortune on eBay?

Hangar Lane
Originally uploaded by Nicobobinus.

A quick bit of perusing local property ads reveals a Greystoke Cottage for sale; "drenched in history" and set within the grounds of the former Greystoke Manor. This is actually further west and north than the Greystokes which sparked the whole thing - described as being set near Fox Wood, which is only just around the corner from our flat. It's a good ten minute march down to the Greystoke (pub) from there, and a much longer meander back after your drink, what with Hangar Hill and an awful lot of traffic. And there my trail runs cold. I can't find anything more on the manor, its inhabitants, or its oddly-shaped sphere of influence.
Perhaps the people who knew about it fell foul of the Hangar Lane Gyratory and have never found their way home to pass on their knowledge.

Wanderlust: advance warning

2009-02-16T23:38:00.006Z

One of the benefits of nightshifts, which I'm back on this week, is the amount of time you get off after them. Once I'm done on Friday morning, I don't have to show my face in the office until next Wednesday afternoon.
It'd be lovely to say I use this time off constructively, but I usually end up ploughing through ironing, trying not to fall asleep at non-nightshift times and watching lots of telly tped during the previous week.
This weekend, however, I have other plans. I've got itchy feet and was considering a weekend away somewhere, but then thought a roadtrip could be much more fun. Why limit myself to just one place when I have a car and a good atlas, sturdy shoes, a laptop and a nifty camera? So I'm harbouring thoughts of a mini roadtrip along the south of England in a westward direction. I have visions of being like a younger, female, Bill Bryson, with none of the research and far more regular tea stops.

2009-02-14T15:47:00.004Z

I have clinical depression.
I say "have" because most of the time it's kept under near-enough total control by the medication Panaroma love to vilify, but I credit with keeping me alive all these years. But at the moment, it's fair to say I'm suffering it.
Most winters I have to increase the amount of paroxetine I take, to help ride out the bumps that come with a lack of daylight, the post-December slump and the usual stuff which is amplified by the above.
This year I haven't.
I put this down, in large part, to the CBT I started in December. At that point in the season I'm still fairly chirpy, excited by my birthday and Christmas and the lights everywhere. It's a good time to try things which may help. My main thought on reading the chapters I was set was, "well, duh", because as Matt pointed out I already have a lot of coping strategies, and many of them are similar to those suggested by the experts (gratifying, really).
But I don't think like that when I'm down. Perspective is the first thing that flies out of the window, followed by common sense and knowing when to stop pushing myself. But for some reason, having notes written in my own handwriting in the coursebook, telling me I already know how to stop the nasty thoughts, I know how to best control and deal with the sense that things are spiralling out of control, it's been extremely beneficial.
As I said though, I don't think like that when I'm down. That only works when things move slowly enough, or in significant enough steps, for you to notice. When tiny little things - comments, actions, events - make small but cumulative chips in your armour, or when you wake up feeling fine but half an hour later have a weird empty sensation in your stomach that no amount of Ready Brek can fix, it's difficult to step back, think about what's happening and break the cycle.
I take it as a positive development that almost as soon as I've stopped snivelling - even while I was last night - I can now trace back through my thoughts and actions to see what happened, and make another note for myself in future. But as Janey said in a very wise moment this morning, it's difficult to remember that when you're in a swirling black mess of a mood. I have been prescribed jaffa cakes and to take it easy at work (I can see that working!) for a bit, my nose is still oddly snotty from last night's hiccup, and I have that sheepish, slightly disconnected feeling which won't budge for a good few days.
But I am alive, I have Wales's defeat of England to look forward to, and there are a small ginger dog and a boyf who both love me very much even when I'm making them both disgustingly soggy - and I am making progress.

2009-02-11T13:18:00.003Z

It's very rare I see anything on the news these days that really makes me stop in my tracks and feel something. It's a pathology common to many in the modern world, but journos in particular are almost calloused to stories of suffering and horror.
Yet, for some reason, a piece we got in from Nick Bryant this morning caught me out. He's in Kinglake, a mountain-top town in Victoria which has been completely devastated by the bushfires sweeping the state. Here's the thing - for once the use of the word 'devastation' is apt. All that's left is corrugated metal roofs, burnt-out vehicles - some still with occupants - and charred trees listing as they contract.
If the snow and ice turned Britain into an alien landscape, it was a mostly friendly one. But what remains in Kinglake is nothing but hostile - even now the fires have been mostly extinguished.

2009-02-06T14:17:00.000Z

It's strange the way the mind works.
The first instinct of anyone on seeing virgin snow, like that in the garden behind the flats on Monday morning, is to go and trample in it. The next is to start scooping it up, either to make a snowman or chuck at the next person to appear.
All this week, as the cold snap (more like a sustained crackle now) heaps more snow, sleety rain, hail and ice on us, the little kid in everyone has had a chance to come out and play, leaving trails of prints, snow angels, and rude words inscribed on the roofs of cars in their wake.
It's commonly thought among the astrological community that Saggitarians are the luckiest sign in the zodiac. Things just seem to fall right for us. Certainly coming down with a strange cold which hasn't done much to my nose or throat, but has slowed my brain and joints considerably in the same week as Arctic conditions struck the country didn't seem particularly fortunate (too ill to go out and play, doomed instead to merely watch the gradual melting away of the snow angels one of our neighbours did in the front garden), but it did mean my decision about a month ago to book train tickets for this weekend's jaunt north left me feeling almost smug in between sneezes and reports of atrocious driving conditions.
It also meant I got to snap lots of photos of a clean and eerie snow-covered East Coast Mainline. Pulling out of Hatfield, I missed the chance to capture a scene which wouldn't have looked out of place on any Victorian Christmas card, of an Olde Pubbe with a snow-topped roof and drifts against its walls. Instead I got tens of photos of fields, wind-whipped flurries of snow flying in several directions at once, and yards normally filled with mucky industrial machines, laid fresh and bare by what looked to be, in places, a foot or so of pristine white snow. Not one footprint, no tyre tracks, no oddly shaped bumps to suggest attempts at the odd snowman before this latest fall. Even the pylons disappeared into the flakes.
The little kid in me, frustrated at having spent three days inside with a head which feels like it's lagging a couple of yards behind the rest of me, was astounded and very excited. If only I could get off the train!
The other thought I had was very much influenced by the book I'm reading, The World Without Us by Alan Weisman. If we keep mucking things up, if we don't go to war and press the wrong shiny buttons first, if global warming has reached a tipping point and we can't stop the disappearance of the Gulf Stream, the rising sea levels and unpredictable but much more hostile weather conditions, this is what Britain will look like when humans are no longer around. Not a sledge, snowman or a set of plodging-through-it bootprints in sight. Them aliens better be good at moulding snow.

2009-02-01T20:35:00.003Z

I have pink car insurance.

Related to the selfish moment

2009-01-23T19:52:00.001Z

If there was one luxury, any luxury, I could have, it would be having someone wash wash my hair every day like they do in a salon.

Selfish moment

2009-01-23T19:42:00.003Z

Noooo!
My lovely lovely hairdresser is pregnant!
I'm very happy for her, but I love how she does my hair, and who's going to do it as brilliantly when she goes off to have her wee bump?

Well connected

2009-01-23T02:34:00.003Z

President Obama (I love typing that) has been allowed to keep his Blackberry.
He says he wants to remain as in touch with people as possible.
Apparently something's been worked out that allows him to keep in touch with senior staffers, very close friends, and presumably Michelle and the girls but remain secure - a kind of two-way Presidential Parental Lock.
I bet he wants to be able to check Facebook regularly, like everyone else.
But here's the thing that amuses me. I can imagine Bill Clinton not using e-mail during his time in office - it was still fairly new back then - but Dubya not using it? Can you imagie the culture shock that must be on coming out of office? Sure, you knew about it, and used it a bit before 2001, but the online world has changed so dramatically since then it must feel like those Nasa missions to Mars worked after all and you're there whenever you try to log on.

The shoe gene

2009-01-23T00:57:00.006Z

How utterly fabulous is this little number from Office?
I've been looking for a pair of alternative shoes for Alex's wedding - I want to wear my black boots, but I know I won't be able to last all day in them - and it occured to me that I just don't have many pairs at all, certainly not enough to give me many options on the triple axis of comfort / style / scrubbing-upness, and that maybe this is Not Very Good a Thing. I live in trainers and boots, much more suitable for someone who thumps around everywhere and lives in jeans and combats. I've also never indulged in shoe buying because I don't see that many pairs I like, and even when I do, I think "I just won't wear them" and virtuously walk away.
Considering the typical female's inability to go shopping without coming back with several pairs, I always maintained that I had the recessive version of the Shoe gene, the Bag gene. But my passion for bags has dulled recently. I have two or three fantastic bags these days, which I switch between regularly, and a couple of others which work when my old faithfuls don't. Instead I have become obsessed with shoes: Mid-height, preferably wide, heels, Mary Jane and rounded toe, suede, all shades of purple, cream and brown, and even the odd black pair if the suede is soft enough. Flat with good lift, brown and black nubuck (and pastel pink if the DM shoes I spotted are as hard-wearing as the boots I swore by in university), loafer-esque, schoolgirl buckled and well-stitched (it's the DM heritage again). Completely impractical tottering heels and platforms, almost neon colours, shiny fabrics and patterns that clash with everything.
The fact that my feet are giving me no end of trouble at the moment - constantly cold, hard-skinned, painful toenail-ed - makes this new fascination of mine all the more perplexing. If I'm in discomfort wearing my battered once-pink-now-plasticine still-slightly-bouncy Vans, how do I expect to deal with no cushioning, crushed toes and a fraction of the stability I usually have in my heel?

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light...

2009-01-20T00:28:00.002Z

It's approaching 0030GMT and so far it's a quiet one at work.
This time tomorrow Barack Obama will be at the first of the balls celebrating the start of his presidency.
The morning of 5 November felt different to me.
It felt like a gloriously sunny day after weeks of heavy cloud and rain. The world felt lighter.
An interview with Jesse Jackson has just been on, comparing Mr Obama's election win to the engagement, tomorrow to the wedding, and his presidency to the marriage. With the global economy the way it is, the honeymoon period is likely to be short, but I don't recall another event in my lifetime that's been so meaningful and inspiring in so many ways.

Time Team 4000

2009-01-18T22:44:00.006Z

A [wizened, Futurama-head-in-a-jar] Tony Robinson:
"Welcome back. We're three days into our exploration of these ancient earthworks, trying to find some kind of clue about who or what is buried here.
"We know from small artefacts found at the site that they were massively important to people in the 20th or 21st centuries, but despite several expeditions to this site just outside Old London, that's about all we know.
"Will these four giant mounds, built along the path of an ancient, important, thoroughfare, reveal anything more than rubble and low-grade compacted soil, or are they the product of minds more devious and twisted than architects of the Egyptian Pyramids? Who would be deserving of burial in so grand a setting?
"The archaeologists know one thing for certain: time is running out, and if their luck doesn't change soon, the Northalla Fields mystery will remain just that."

I couldn't agree more

2009-01-16T11:27:00.002Z

I've always found Alistair Campbell an insufferable tw*t.
I don't believe at all in spin. I'm all for sugar-coating the pill if you have bad news, but to me there's a definite line between diplomacy and tact, and spin, and I believe the latter should be kept out of things.
Pete invited me to an evening with Campbell not so long back, and while I was interested in hearing what he had to say for himself, I turned it down on the grounds that I'd probably end up losing my temper with him and being escorted from the premises - and besides I had tickets to see Savion Glover the same evening.
I could have been a little bit wrong about him.
I knew he'd suffered from recurrent depression (I'm starting to think the best of us do), and that he'd had a fairly nasty breakdown at one point. I also knew he was the sort of person who, like me in general, doesn't like medication. However, while I go into freefall after about a week without happy pills (something I hope the CBT will help prevent, or at least make less drastic), he seems to cope okay without them for the majority of the time and only uses them when he can't shake off the black dog insistent on humping his shoulder (rather than his leg) by himself.
Having him talk about it on Breakfast, because of a report which suggests being depressed can make you better able to cope with life in general, was an eye-opener. It was like listening to myself, or my brother, explaining its impact and how we've coped with it. (an aside: There's a story I heard about how a Canadian book called 'Coping with' something or other was renamed 'Conquering' whatever it was across the border, because people in America don't just cope, they battle and win. My own experience is of an adjective somewhere in between the two.)
Part of my CBT is to ask myself for examples of three things that went well each day. Pete says I'm not allowed to include baking (I'm lobbying to be allowed to include attempts at new recipes). Having my perceptions of someone challenged in a positive way is surely something I can include.

First day back

2009-01-06T07:49:00.002Z

It was down to -8C or so last night apparently.
This explains why I felt a little chilly on waking up, which I'm convinced I did a lot last night.
Technically, I think I slept well, but I feel a little discombobulated because all the dreams I remember having were about sleeping very badly, or not sleeping at all.

Art imitating life; pets looking like their owners

2008-12-28T21:55:00.004Z

Christmas wouldn't be Christmas nowadays without certain things: the prospect of working in a slightly merry and untamed newsroom; far too much stodgy snackfood; just missing my friends on our trips home to Cumbria; Doctor Who, usually some hours after everyone else has seen it; a Wallace and Gromit binge on the BBC.
When I first heard the subject of this year's new episode, I couldn't help chuckling. It felt as though my Gromit had been in touch with his inspiration and namesake, and told him all about the growing range of baking implements in his guardian's kitchen.
I also can't help thinking the young mutt's been sneaking into the kitchen with a camera when I'm mid-session, and sending the resultant photos to Nick Park.
Why else would this scene strike such a chord with me?

2008-12-24T10:41:00.002Z

While Gromit is surrounding himself with wrapping paper and sticky tape and remembering the downside of not having thumbs, I've been baking, wrapping, cooking, supposedly packing to head back north for a week, baking, having a great birthday weekend, baking more and getting the odd spot of mental health assessment.
I had my second session with Matt, the ridiculously cute case worker, yesterday, to finish off the initial assessment and go through what we'd worked out so far.
Quelle surprise, my depression is mostly under control (great drugs!), with the odd habit and temper tantrum issue I'm aware of and working to fix, but the thing which surprised me is how socially anxious I actually officially seem to be. It was one of the first things Matt picked up on when I was going through situations and triggers - I hate situations I can't plan or prepare for.
Crumbs, I even set up this blog originally to keep my non-local friends up to date with what I was doing without having to 'remember' to call (in other words, to avoid doing something I often find extremely uncomfortable, and to do it in a much more eloquent way than I sometimes manage in speech).
So the result of my three hours talking the hind end off the poor lad is a referral for proper cognitive behavioural therapy to help me deal with the anxiety and unlearn the habits I've picked up over the past 20-plus years while dealing with varying levels of black dogness, and a one-to-one starter course of CBT for the depression.
It's an 11-week course starting in January, and I have a nice big book to start ploughing through in the meantime.
For once when I say I'm excited about something big and new and potentially scary, I'm not actually scared at all. Progress already? We'll see.

Heh, as Gromit would say

2008-12-24T08:05:00.002Z

For all Brits on the wrong side of the pond

2008-12-21T13:58:00.005Z

...but mostly for Geoff, who's been having trouble with his Brit-B-Gone:

Inspired by my home computer

2008-12-14T08:16:00.002Z

...With only slight apologies to Microsoft:

Another world

2008-12-13T12:00:00.002Z

I can never get over how many people are awake and doing things at sparrow-fart of the morning.
During the week I can just about understand it. I have a very short turnaround before I leave for work because I can't stand to get up any earlier than I absolutely have to. I get showered and dressed, then gulp down a mug of tea and that's it - clothes have been picked out the night before, and breakfast is in foodsavers for eating later. It takes me about half an hour, 20 minutes on a quick day. But other people don't have the luxury of an employer who sends a taxi for you if you start work before 0715, and I doubt I could face public transport without a good hour or so to prepare. Pete says he doesn't know where the time goes, and he gives himself at least twice as long as me to get ready.
But this morning - a dark, wet, windy Saturday - there were lights on in at least one other flat in our block, several in the flats along the rest of the road, and plenty of people blearing out of the windows of a Central Line train that went past as we joined the A40.
Why do they do it?
How do they do it?

Seeing it from both sides

2008-12-09T15:03:00.001Z

How Tech Support feel about dealing with us mortals:

How we mortals (sometimes) feel about tech support:

2008-12-08T08:01:00.005Z

I pretty much peaked with my piece on Kermit the Frog's 50th birthday.
But my rugby-loving, tea-making, worryingly balding mutt Gromit can still reach for the stars if he so chooses.
Considering one of his favourite ways to spend an evening is to play astronauts, bouncing around on the furniture like he's on the moon, I think he'd be thrilled to find out that going into space really isn't out of the question for stuffed animals who aim high enough.

The sun is shining, it's a beautiful day

2008-12-07T11:12:00.001Z

Thoughts from the day so far:
Our flat is toasty warm even when it feels cold. I slept warmer last night with just one quilt and light pyjamas, in a huge bedroom with the window open a crack, than I ever managed at Cotton Avenue with several layers of duvet and thermal PJs.
Hot towels are still not as good at keeping you cosy as staying under the hot water in the shower.
De-icing a car is a great way to warm oneself on a near-freezing morning, however your feet will still be blue ice-blocks half an hour later.
It really should not take longer to do said de-icing than it does to get where one is going (it's a four-mile journey).
Winter sun is more dangerous than summer sun because it's too low in the sky for the sun visor to block; frosty roads are also good at blinding drivers with or without sunglasses.
There's a distinct scent of vanilla-based unbaked sponge wafting along the first floor corridor in news. There is no similar comforting, warming smell on the second floor despite the presence of the canteen.
I still look about 27, apparently. This is very comforting considering the no-longer quasi-wrinkles under my eyes, or the development of shiner-like bags around them once I've been up longer than, say, three hours.
Everyone in the office was ridiculously excited by the prospect of Terry Wogan on the Andrew Marr show.
None of us like shopping, but few have been able to resist the lure of Westfield. We prefer going late at night so as to avoid the worst of the crush.
Pia's predilection for Wotsits is becoming somewhat alarming. She's eaten two bags already today and may have just gone to buy more. I sense a possible intervention coming on.

Newsflash!

2008-11-23T23:15:00.003Z

2008-11-23T02:46:00.005Z

Over on Facebook a couple of weeks ago I mentioned that watching Wales play these days was like watching the Falcons in their mediocre usual last season. All the facets of a great performance, or at least a great team, were there, but somehow they didn't connect.
Last week's game against Canada had me shouting in frustration at the missed opportunities, and saying to anyone who would listen that the best play of the whole game was the final one, when Lee Halfpenny streaked away to score a try in the most convincing show of sporting prowess from the whole match.
Today there was a beautiful start. The composure and steady stubbornness with which they faced the haka was enough to stir the blood of everyone in the stadium, and Gromit and me, sat in tense anticipation on the sofa.

It obviously rattled the Kiwis more than they let on as well, with small mistakes in the face of a resolute Welsh side costing them the first half.
But then the usual happened.
Wales were outclassed - but it was fun to watch and always thrilling.
This was a team which looked like it could, and possibly would, cause an upset or two. Their performance made me feel much more optimistic about next week's game versus Australia than I otherwise would have been.
More of the same please - and perhaps England should be taking notes.

Eeeewwwwww

2008-11-22T02:17:00.005Z

My sleeping habits have changed much over the years, but one thing which has remained fairly constant is my need to tuck my ears under the covers.
While the fine hair I have provides some protection from the cold come winter, it's nowhere near enough to keep my metal-enhanced shell-likes protected from the chill. So I bury my ears (but not my nose or mouth) under piles of duvet.
Mind you, it's one of those things I think may have some other deep-seated psychological roots.
You see, when I was little I heard a no doubt made-up story of some other little girl who, it was discovered, had a spider in her brain (almost as scary a tale as the one of the little girl found to have a hairball weighing a pound and a half in her stomach, a story designed to stop me chewing my plaits).
Being a small person with a very big imagination, I thought this was far more likely to happen than not, and spent every night, even in the height of summer (and they were much hotter back then) with my head tucked well underneath the protective covering of the blankets, a good foot shy of the pillows.
Even when I was old enough to think it somewhat strange that my dad knew of all manner of unfortunate little girls who had suffered terribly because of some habit I happened to share with them, I was kept slightly alarmed about things using my ears as a shortcut to my other shoulder, or thinking it was the latest trendy restaurant, by that scene in Star Trek 2 where Chekov is possessed by an insect via his ear canal.

Now, though, when I thought I was past everything but habit, there comes a story to make me burrow towards the centre of the bed yet again, to say nothing of burning every meal I make for the forseeable future and washing my hands so well a surgeon would look like Pigpen in comparison.
For Rosemary Alvarez, wife and mother, and sufferer of headaches and numbness in her arm, was shown not to have a brain tumour but a live worm making its home in her brainstem!

2008-11-09T11:00:00.004Z

Remembrance Sunday
For the Fallen, Laurence Binyon
They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

Don't let the result have been fake too

2008-11-08T21:01:00.003Z

After the tumultuous, world-changing, events of this last week, it's nice to know the news is once more getting itself into the news (and that it's not poor old Auntie Beeb managing it either).
A couple of the US political op-ed sites were a little concerned by the technological developments being shown off during telly's coverage of the US 08 election. We like rolling out new features for big events; it gives us a really big platform on which to fail spectacularly. Come on, when was the last time you saw a new and cool way of presenting the news - on TV or online - that wasn't tied to An Event?
Anyway, never mind our all-singing all-dancing embedded media experience, which is getting steadily better and more functional, CNN had holograms! Apparently some 35 cameras were set up around the spot where correspondents would stand so the anchor back in the boring old studio could walk around their colleague in the field and get a whole new perspective on the action! (sort of, because they can only see the corr, not the corr's surroundings)
What on earth is wrong with Peter Snow leaping gamely over a CG version of the House of Commons (or a map of the States in this case) as results come in, or even the good old swingometer?
But here's the good bit for those of us not employed by CNN: it was fake!
Did these people not do the safeguarding trust module (well, no, but never mind)?
I, for one, have lost all faith in broadcast news - except for those bits I'm responsible for, of course.

But I can't vote there!

2008-11-04T09:02:00.000Z

Confused man

2008-11-01T14:27:00.002Z

...But Barack Obama's in therapy to make sure his white half can bring itself to vote for him:

Confused toddler

2008-11-01T12:45:00.002Z

Tina Fey's three-year-old daughter is still confused by how important her mummy is, or could be:

And would you let Bristol Palin babysit your kids?

Never mind the wrinkle cream

2008-10-27T15:38:00.004Z

While Pete was pretty much the king of losing things on holiday, I didn't let him have all the glory. On the flight home my eyes were understandably tired and scratchy, and I cursed myself for packing my glasses, worn only for computer work and hangovers / long hours, in my suitcase. Except I couldn't remember repacking them when I squished the last sock, Kiehl's sample and US confection in my case the previous night...
They were on the loose in the US.
I made an appointment for an eye test to get a replacement pair as soon as possible, and fired off a couple of emails to hotels in the hope they'd turn up, and resigned myself to sitting in a silly way at work to reduce the strain on my peepers, if not my back.
It seems, a couple of weeks on, they're living it up somewhere in New York, because the Harrington were very apologetic when they replied to say nothing had turned up.
In the meantime, I picked up my new specs today.
Because my prescription has always been very slight, and I only really needed glasses to stop everything swimming around in front of me after a nightshift, I've never really noticed any difference before when I put them on or take them off.
Today I put the new ones on for final adjustments, and had that same bizarre sensation as I did in sixth form when I put on my safety goggles for chemistry and realised the world was sharper and brighter than before; to see screens and the middle distance properly now requires more of a change than my eyes seem capable of doing - or willing to do - themselves. In short, they're changing.
I'm getting old.

Silver linings

2008-10-22T16:12:00.002+01:00

Emma somehow didn't see much of the amazing lightning which hit Brisbane last night their time. I dunno how; having walked home through the start of such a storm recently (in Washington), I noticed the funny effects in the sky and the air long before I actually saw the bolts or felt my hair starting to go static.
Speaking of which, the cold snap has given me the smoothest (albeit prone-to-static zing) hair I've had in a long time. Several people in work have asked if I've had it done today as a result.

Trendsetting

2008-10-20T18:19:00.001+01:00

I'd just settled down in my seat on the tube today when a young lad got on.
He was in his late teens, maybe early 20s, a bit on the well-padded side, wearing a hard hat.
Backwards.
Like the kids who wanted to be cool but never would be did with baseball caps when I was 13.
The mind boggles.

Frustrated, spooked and cold

2008-10-18T20:41:00.002+01:00

Frustration: realising I've lost my glasses, probably Stateside, probably in DC, and am having to sit completely differently at the computer as a result, which is making my shoulder hurt; not being able to find a poem I'm looking for about picking at scabs and am fairly sure is by Maya Angelou but couldn't swear to it
Spooked: having gained back all the weight I lost since rejoining Weight Watchers (a common side effect of two weeks in the US), most of the spam I'm getting is about losing roughly that in Just Two Weeks!!!
Cold: not only have we returned from "unseasonably warm" temperatures of around 24C each day to a dry but otherwise typical British autumn (ie a bit nippy), but the air vents at work are doing a sterling job of freezing my hands.

The holiday in pictures

2008-10-17T23:55:00.004+01:00

A work in progress; the problem with having a lovely zoomy camera and a little bit of knowledge is that I've taken thousands (actually) of photos and am having a hard time editing them down.

US itinerary with notes, part 1

2008-10-17T00:31:00.001+01:00

Day 1 - Monday 29/09
Check in online, on later flight as first flight cancelled. Get ready to do battle with Virgin re compensation / at least finding out why we weren't told earlier.
Heathrow Connect service cancelled halfway to airport because of technical fault.
Drop off bags, get £5 food voucher for inconvenience of earlier cancellation. Postpone grumps till airside. Pete loses wallet somewhere in security.
Flight: 8hrs 15 to Dulles; whiny woman and remarkably well-behaved child behind us. Watch 27 Dresses, Indiana Jones 4 and Cloverfield, sleep a tiny bit, eat lots of nice airplane food.

WASHINGTON D.C.
Taxi from airport to hotel.
Room in Harrington practically a suite, with 'kitcheteria', lounge and nice big bathroom. Can't face exploring for food so go to hotel's own restaurant / bar, Harry's, for 'baby burger' and fries. Biggest burger ever seen. Promptly feel more human.

Day 2 - Tuesday 30/09
Jim Henson exhibition at the Smithsonian's S. Dillon Ripley Centre. No photography allowed, and fearsome-looking security so no sneaky shots taken. Raptures over the actual 1970s Kermit!!!, Rowlf and Gobo from the Fraggles.
Make it to Smithsonian Air and Space Museum after lunch in time for quite amusing free tour. Go round musuem again after to get pics. Find USS Enterprise hidden away in basement shop.
Walk up the Mall towards Capitol Building,, get slightly lost and aim for Union Station. Is big. Is pretty. Is full of places to eat (yay!).
Walk back to hotel spotting funky lightshow in distance. Lightshow turns out to be big rain storm and more lightning than have ever seen in life.
Get v wet but decide pretty lights make up for it.

Day 3 - Wednesday 01/10
Experience Harriet's full buffet breakfast. Cholesterol level will rise 5 points in following week.
Take Original Trolley Bus Tour around Washington to see the Mall and monuments without getting blisters.
Catch next trolley bus to Washington National Cathedral - take lift (!) up tower, catch an organ recital, join a tour. Come out to rain, but no lightshow this time. Just cold and wet.
Get changed at hotel, then go up Old Post Office for view from tower.
Go into normal-looking Starbucks for cake to put off rumbling tummy. Is in v swish atrium - lobby of Hyatt hotel.
Gorgeous fish and creme brulee at McCormick and Schmick - eat way too much but enjoy every second.
Try to undo damage by walking to Pennsylvania Avenue and White House, then Washington Monument.

Day 4 - Thu 02/10
Brave the Washington Metro to Arlington National Cemetery.
Pay respects to JFK and Jackie Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy, the Tomb of the Unknown soldier, Challenger and Columbia memorials, grave of President Taft.
Quick visit to Memorial to Women in the Military.
Head across to US Marine Corps monument - divert to avoid crashing military funeral - 27 held here every day.
Head back to Washington on foot via Arlington Bridge.
Pop in to see Lincoln, have cup of tea with cheeky duck, am awed by memorial for FDR.
Find interesting memorial to George Mason, chap who stood up to both the Brits and the fledgling US, continue to Jefferson. Spy on White House like he does.
Beautiful posh but not pretentious pizza at Ella's.

Day 5 - Friday 03/10
Take Pete to Newseum. Exhibition on media's relationship with FBI during reign of J Edgar Hoover. Find self wondering if differing attitudes to guns or nuances of freedom of speech explain unease at inclusion of guns used in raids and Unabomber's hut. Good exhibits on history of news, new media, First Amendment. Chunk of Berlin Wall. Very moving exhibit on September 11, including photos from cameras of man caught in second tower's collapse.
Memorial to journalists killed on job. Feel v fortunate to be doing such cool job, and in such relatively safe surroundings. Humbled.
International Spy Museum. Given aliases to use while in building. Listening tunnels, examples of kit, cute disclaimer about where exhibits from (along lines of "we cannot reveal our sources just in case...").
Ridiculously posh and quite expensive meal at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse. Best steak have ever had. Chocolate pudding a letdown - is ice cream with chocolate sauce. Think jeans will not fit ever again.

Day 6 - Saturday 04/10
Kramerbooks. Dupont Circle. Waffles and complemtary cinnamon muffins. Geoff!
Almost lose former colleague on Metro to National Archives (he likes trains). Pete looks at Declaration of Indpendence, US Constitution and Bill of Rights. I gaze at decor.
V hot and sunny. Cool off in National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden. Discover Barry Flanagan. Keep going into Hirshhorn Sculpture Garden, full of Henry Moores and Willem De Koonings.
Take cultural breather in lovely Mary Livingstone Ripley and Enid A Haupt Gardens. Pretty flowers.
Meet up with Geoff again by President's Christmas tree and zero milestone at front of White House.
Revisit Washington monument, lads laugh at me being short.
Can't decide if WWII memorial is fitting for scope of conflict or a bit OTT. Stark contrast with Vietnam memorial - big black marble scar in ground.
Watch re-enactment of scene from In The Line Of Fire on steps up to Lincoln.
Shutterbugs have fun in twilight walking back along Mall.
Have to have dinner at Chef Geoff's, with obligatory pics of namesake next to sign.

Day 7 - Sunday 05/10
Head up to Georgetown for pootle and retail therapy. Is ridiculously hot, so aim for shade in lovely Dean and Deluca, then down to canal.
Swarms of women in pink around - part of massive breast cancer fundraising walk. Disappear up side streets to reach Wisconsin Avenue, home of Thomas Sweet's Ice Cream and Billy Martin's Tavern (where JFK proposed to Jackie).
Lunch in park with kids practising little league.
Find very long flight of steps where priest tumbles down in the Exorcist.
Meet Geoff in donut of Hirshhorn, wander past 'One Planet - Ours!' exhibit outside Botanic Garden, up to Supreme Court and Library, then to Union Station for dinner and to put him on train.
Find way onto platforms to look at old trains in for weekend exhibition.

Day 8 - Monday 6/10
Am getting cold. Damn Marshall.
Stop off at CVS for supplies before heading to Smithsonian Air and Space museum's Stephen F Udvar-Hazy centre nr Dulles airport.
Take free tour and see Concorde, Blackbird, lots of early planes and Nasa shuttle Enterprise. Go round again after for pictures, get very excited at shuttle and Close Encounters of the Third Kind model ship.
Ollie's Trolley for 50s style burger experience, then ice cream at Giffords. Regular size is about one Ben and Jerry's tub's worth of ice cream.
Attempt to walk it off by heading down to lower monuments - get lots of nighttime pictures of Jefferson, the FDR and Korean War memorials.

Day 9 - Tuesday 07/10
Can't tell if the day is as warm as they say, because I'm really coldy and my temperature keeps zooming up. Up dosage of echinacea and vitamin C, vow to drink more fruit juice.
Go to say farewell to USS Enterprise in Smithsonian Air and Space Museum shop, head up to the Washington Visitors' Centre for election-themed tourist tat.
Excuse more Giffords ice cream as essential for cooling fevered head.
Taxi to Dulles airport. Once at gate, have West Wing moment when realise Josh Lyman takes phone call here when going to visit his dad.
Find a Five Guys burger place. Fabulous juicy burger and crunchy-yet-fluffy fries. Pete's drink almost radioactively orange.
Get on tiny litle plane to JFK - Pete cannot stand up straight in the aisle.
Arrive at JFK and are told Pete's luggage on next flight. Coldy, grumpy, tired.

US itinerary with notes (part 2)

2008-10-17T00:01:00.000+01:00

NEW YORK
Day 9 - Wednesday 08/10
Pete reunited with luggage. Pops out to Starbucks to pick up light breakfast.
Nose is mutinying. Stash plenty of tissues in pockets and bag, head out to see town.
Arrive at 42nd Street for Municipal Arts Society's weekly free tour of Grand Central Terminal. Great guide. Beautiful building. Have sore neck from cold but make it more sore craning to look at chandeliers and ceilings and general design.
Have Matzoh ball soup, caesar salad and Junior's world famous cheesecake for lunch. Soup makes nose run more but in good way. Cheesecake v rich, so share slice between us.
Walk down Fifth. Try to resist taking pics of Empire State Building - will get plenty of opportunities. Madison Square Park squirrels not scared of humans at all, pose for camera. Pete risks life to get pics of Flatiron building.
Feeling woozy sick so get subway back to hotel. Decide don't like subway - is v hot and carriages noisy, is not obviously clear at entrances if trains go both ways and end up going wrong way for a stop.
Poorly sick, so slouch to Ray's across road for pizza. Ask for medium but get box size of luggage. We like.

Day 10 - Thursday 09/10
Head feels much better, except for jarring sensation whenever loud noises. Breakfast at Cafe Parisenne possibly not best idea - clashing glasses and cups on saucers, lovely friendly noisy old staff.
Free coffee and biscotti from Starter Wife promo girls at Columbus Circle. Slurp while walking up Central Park West on way to American Museum of Natural History.
Catch Cosmic Collisions film in planetarium, revert to childhood with dinosaurs, giggle at poor extinct giant sloths in hall of mammalian ancestry, get hands on 34 tons (US) of iron in gemstones and meteorites exhibit. Feel slightly saddened by stuffed tableaus. Beautifully done but they all look so sad. Indulge Pete with the Squid and the Whale, head back to space for Big Bang exhibition. Almost adopt small polar bear.
Head across to Central Park. Pete gets pretzel from actual street vendor. Debate wisdom of such a move when one of us already ill.
Have great fun wandering through park - little boats on Conservatory Water, Bethesda Fountain, Terrace and newly renovated Arcade under the steps, the Mall, lots of dogs playing on the grass above the Wollman Rink.
Feel slightly better for dinner but can't smell much. Go to Trattoria del'Arte - gorgeous comfort food pasta and soup, and ginger ale.

Day 11 - Friday 10/10
Slowly getting hang of subway - hassle-free trip to Battery Park to catch Island cruises. Hop off at Statue of Liberty for pics and loo, go round immigration museum at Ellis Island.
Subway to West Village.
Grab massive sandwiches so not faint when faced with wonder of Friends building (!) and Carrie's (Sex and the City) apartment building. Queue for cupcakey goodness at Magnolia Bakery. Pete says amount of sugar has blinded him. Keep other two cupcakes for desert another night.
Go to Azalia for dinner on recommendation of Janey. Is good. Can taste everything again. Have wine to celebrate.
Wander towards Empire State Building - go via Rockefeller Plaza to gawp, get pictures of Radio City Music Hall all lit up. Head down Fifth Avenue past bank with most tempting safe in world, Diamond Quarter, place selling gourmet popcorn (?).
Empire State Building. Spot plenty of art deco dalekiness on way up to top, wonder if season three storylines so far-fetched after all. Observation deck is full of people gazing out and trying to take photos. Am thwarted again by being respectable 5'7" and only able to get steady nighttime shots balancing camera on stonework; Pete snapping away happily with camera on top of railings. Cool jazz saxaphonist playing in corner.
Come down just after midnight. Head back up Fifth to Tiffany's - next door to Trump building. His all OTT, Tiffany's all restrained elegance and small window displays.
Smell baking and get hungry again. Really like 24hr city thing - nip into deli by hotel for toast.

Day 12 - Saturday 11/10
Carnegie's deli for mammoth breakfast.
Pete splits for Moma, FAO Schwarz, Dylan's Candy store.
Me to Sephora for benefit gorgeousness, Macy's, more Macy's. Eight floors plus basement full of deli-type sweetiness. Work up to fifth floor before leaving to go meet Pete.
Meet at Rockefeller to discuss adventures over Ben and Jerry's - big serving helps still slightly feverish head.
Pete back to Moma for Van Gogh exhibit, my turn to find Dylan's.
Thalia for dinner. Beautiful red bean soup then big chunk of roast chicken with spinach. Extra garlic on veg - staff trying to prevent spread of germs?

Day 13 - Sunday 12/10
Stage Deli for breakfast - slightly smaller portions. Fear hunger may break into Rockefeller art and architecture tour as result. Guide is tiny woman wearing posh but v worn out top and coat, huge rings and saggy tracky bottoms. Knows where Carlisle is - has even been there! Says am very clever - recognise what all sculptures supposed to represent straight off. Let Pete get one or two. NBC News4 New York comes from what was Eastern Airlines building - is so posh and swishly decorated makes
Subway down to Financial District. Building site where World Trade Center used to stand, St Paul's church across road with tributes still visible. Locked up so can't go pay respects in more meaningful way than gawping.
Walk down Wall Street. US Stock Exchange and site of first car bombing - small gouges in stone wall still clear. Another Trump building next door to Tiffany's. Who following who?
Walk across Brooklyn Bridge, surrounded by tourists. For some reasons wedding photographers have poor couples posing in middle - would not want pics of my wedding crowded with overweight tourists and clashing-colour backpacks! End up in very genteel and fashionable Brooklyn Heights.
Bookt tickets for Harbour Lights cruise the following night; collapse in warm sweaty heap by interesting water-play-park up from Pier 82.
Need fortifying; large pizza and garlic ciabatta at John's Pizzeria on 44th St does the trick.

Day 14 - Monday 13/10 (Columbus Day!)
Decide to be sensible with food; toast and juice for breakfast at Cafe Parisienne. Must be getting better - head no longer hurts when crockery clashed around by staff.
Head through Central Park to get to Metropolitan Museum of Art. Pass zoo and clock with dancing animals, which plays My Bonny Lies Over The Ocean at 10am.
Somehow end up out of park and diverted around streets because of route planning for Columbus Day Parade. End up following man and dog to Met. Whole room of Paul Klee paintings. Am happy. Jeff Koons exhibition on roof - three big shiny metal things including balloon dog, coluring-in of Piglet with lines removed and heart wrapped to look like sweetie / present.
Catch first participants in Columbus Day parade reaching end point.
Traipse downtown to Katz's Deli for world-famous pastrami on rye. Sign marking where Harry and Sally had lunch, and Sally had orgasm on the side.
Couple of blocks down stop in for tea and cake at TeaNY. Strawberry shortcake rich and thick and fluffy yet heavy at same time.
Roll up to East Village. St Mark's Bookshop like Kramerbooks but lacking something (cinnamon muffins, probably).
Pier 82 for Harbour Lights cruise. Last night of Waterfalls. City v pretty from water when lights on. Apartment building in Queens has coloured light display on that completely different from, but reminds me of, place in Lewisham visible from Pete's old train. Cool. Pretty.

Day 15 - Tuesday 14/10
Breakfast: bloke at table next to us has scrambled eggs, toast, bagel and extra sausages on the side. Even waitress shocked at size of order. Bloke's girlfriend - stick thin and model-like - has massive piece of chocolatey cheesecake. Hope she works out constantly or am insanely jealous.
Slightly disappointed by Solomon R Guggenheim gallery. Building beautiful and needs to be photographed but people actually observing 'no photography' signs. Also main rotunda closed for installation of new exhibit. Only two or three early Kandinskys - not best works by far.
Discover Chrysler Building lopsided - lobby doors off centre of tower so photos look unbalanced. Still v pretty building.
Decide every big city has exploded malteser sculpture when confronted with another at UN.
Drag Pete back to East Village for sample heaven at Kiehl's Pharmacy.
Check out of Park Central; head for airport hotel. Is oddest little studio-type room with shower curtain and steps dividing bath from bedroom and glass slidy panels between bath and loo. Is cool.

Day 16 - Wednesday 15/10
Up at stupid o'clock to make bag drop etc for journey home.
Sleep through safety announcement, get to spread out over seats during flight. Watch 30 Rock, Hancock, The Happening, read more of English Patient than managed during whole holiday.
Find copy of Terry Pratchett's Nation in women's toilet at Heathrow.
Grab KFC takeout at Ealing as reward for lugging suitcase up station steps.
Piles of washing, horror at weighing scales. Tesco food order due tomorrow; leek and potato soup in freezer - plan quasi-detox for self.
Collapse into bed.

Home on the radio!

2008-09-25T09:59:00.002+01:00

I never watched Lookaround - or Border Crack'n'Deekabout as it's more commonly known in Carlisle - if I could help it. I've always been a BBC gal, right from the word go. We didn't get a commercial radio station in Carlisle till I was a teenager, and BBC Look North was just so much better than the stuff on ITV.
But still, the late Eric Wallace, something of a legend, used to live across the road from my school, and every morning we'd watch him back his car into the road, get out to lock up his garage and give us all (his admiring fans) a big wave, and the programme had a loyal following.
So when ITV announced its plans to cut regional news offerings and merge Border Telly with Tyne Tees it wasn't just the media bunny in me who thought this was wrong. More than 14,000 people wrote to Ofcom complaining about the proposals, petitions were raised, car stickers were given out and people across the Border region got fired up about something for once - but to no avail, it seems.
ITV has been given the go-ahead to cut its regions from the current 17 to nine, including the creation of a super-region covering the whole of the south of Scotland down to Baroow-in-Furness in the west and Scarborough in the east. The chances of getting teams out to cover the news in the further reaches of that size patch are slight, so the chances of people seeing stuff that relates to them, and being interested in the news are even slimmer. When we're told that regionality, locality and de-centralising - de-Londonising - is the way to go, it seems a completely counter-intuitive move. Still, it did lead to a lovely report from a former Newcastle colleague of mine, so it can't all be bad...

2008-09-24T13:12:00.001+01:00

see more puppies

If only...

2008-09-23T11:24:00.002+01:00

In the partly imaginary world in which I inhabit, the following scene never needed to happen.
That's because in that world, we never had Chimpy McFlightsuit running the Free World and making a bit of a mess of things.
In my world it's probably time for a change actually, and McCain would win the US election just to give the voters a change from at least 16 years of Democrats in power.
But that world is only partly imaginary, which was one of the strengths of the West Wing, reacting as it did to things happening in the real world. So the thought of Barack Obama going to Jed Bartlet for advice seems completely plausible. It seems all the more right considering Obama was the real-life inspiration for Jimmy Santos, who went on to win a very tight election against the nicest, most moderate Repbublican captured on film since Abraham Lincoln helped Bill and Ted pass their history tests (I may hold McCain's failure to do this against him in future).
My one complaint is that President Bartlet would never say "due to" when he clearly means "because of". Whether that's because Aaron Sorkin thinks Barack Obama would make such a mistake (in his dream), or because he knows his own creation a little less well these days, having spent some time apart, I'm not sure.
It would be a very nice world if that was my only bother, wouldn't it?

Ha!

2008-09-14T11:37:00.002+01:00

What did I say?

Tina Fey as Sarah Palin on Saturday Night Live

"Ani? Izat you Ani?"

2008-09-14T09:12:00.002+01:00

I blame Pete for me discovering Robot Chicken and becoming a giggling wreck, especially when it comes to their Star Wars spoofs.

Love, or something like it

2008-09-13T12:32:00.005+01:00

I'm generally a loyal and affectionate sort, and I suffer real heartache when having to say goodbye to things / people of which I've grown fond.
I felt horribly disloyal to Tuesday when I brought Barney home, I have to reassure Gromit he's still Top Dog even thought we now live with a Real Human Boy (and several other dogs have joined him - Gromit, that is - on his box next to his sofa), and I've persevered with my gorgeous clunky silver and charcoal tower PC for a good few years longer than perhaps I should have as it gets slower and slo-o-wer and s-l-o-w-e-r, despite running with minimal programs and the help of System Mechanic in purging all the problems Norton used to run in fear from. Even Black & White, which I finally got running yesterday after Pete hacked out the corrupted registry entries (two years after buying the game) was being a wee bit ponderous, and that's designed for computers with half the power mine's got (I'd resorted to playing that after my copy of Spore wouldn't load up -because it needs a PC with more oomph).
It may be the most expensive freebie I've ever had: one of the lads at work was sent two copies minus their press releases or any other info, said he didn't play games and would I like one of the CDs when he saw me eyeing up the cover.
That little act of generosity and a general mood of computer updating, brought on by our resident Tech Support Anorak finally asking why BJs logged on to two computers when working on certain desks (machines that hang for minutes at a time, just as you're being hit with embarrassing pop-ups and the boss is approaching) and popping the cover off to instal some more memory, has got me thinking those unfaithful thoughts again.
A couple of weeks ago EcoGeek ran a piece about the very green and very beautiful Dell Studio Hybrid, and like a timely metaphor when you're trying to be eloquent, it popped into my head.
I'd prefer something in violet, but some sense of economy and tradition has me plumping for the slate grey instead of the girlier pink option availble.
I haven't splashed out yet. Partly because I want to see if I can get something practical and slightly more future-proof (remember the beautiful but instantly obsolete Mac G4 Cube?) for the same kind of money (very likely), but also because I want to wait until life (read work) is a bit more settled again. But if I can't be dissuaded from the vision of gorgeousness that is the Hybrid, maybe I'll ask Mum and Dad to go halfers as my combined birthday / Christmas present. Until then, I'll be trying to convince myself that the trusty PC of seven years' standing is not throwing wobblers and crashing because it knows about my plans, and getting around to making back-ups of everything on there (yeah right).

2008-09-04T21:54:00.005+01:00

Sat munching my tea earlier, I had the sudden yearning for pie.
When I became the worst vegetarian in history, I really missed steak and kidney puddings (baby's 'eds to us northerners). When I started trying to eat healthily, pies were an inevitable casualty. Mum kept torturing me with talk of the low-fat chicken pies she had once found in Morrisons. Scotch pies taunted me cruelly with their perfect-for-containing-gravy crusty tops. Pete has to ration me to a bite or two of the lovely glossily glazed pork pies he insists on getting whenever we have a picnic-y lunch out.
But I've never thought about making my own.
After all, pastry - the thing I'd be most likely to try making myself - is the bad thing, because good pastry is inherently bad for you - full of fat and dense things, and prone to sitting like a Russian submarine at the bottom of your stomach for weeks after eating.
So as an experiment, once back in the office I bunged "low-fat pastry" into google, and quelle surprise! I got some promising results. This is good. I can now indulge some of the thoughts I've been entertaining about the beautiful creations of The Hairy Bakers relatively damage-free. (I don't do food guilt, I enjoy it too much to ever think that yomping a 400g bar of Dairy Milk is wrong. It's just not good for the seams of my jeans, nor my image as a connoiseur of Good Quality Chocolate)
I already have dreams of Guinness puddings forming, and I'm almost looking forward spending winter in front of the oven experimenting...

Separated at birth?

2008-09-04T17:25:00.005+01:00

I can't help thinking that if the extremely funny Tina Fey finds difficulty getting another series of 30 Rock commissioned, or in getting work after this November, she could go down the Dave route:

It's good to talk

2008-09-04T15:40:00.003+01:00

I had to get in touch with the bods at Manchester earlier today to find out what they're planning for a piece we're both covering. So I promptly messaged James, my equivalent at Oxford Road, who I used to spend far too much time MSNing when up in Newcastle.
We got the business out of the way pretty quickly, but he could only say he'd pass on my requests etc because he no longer deals with the web stuff. In fact, our kid is a TV type until at least the end of the year! I said I'd keep an eye out for his stuff on the webpage, and he told me I'd probs miss out because he's usually on overnights, which means your tired croaky voice is on the early morning stuff but little else. Instead he'd be pointing potential fans to this piece of work from last season.
So I told him about my comparison of my boys to clumpy mascara during my stint in the Falcons Fanzone last October, and once more having to explain it because of the male lack of understanding of the damned stuff.

"All new mascaras promise lots of things. They won't smudge, they won't clump, they won't let you down. So you renew your faith in them, and they stick together in useless lumps just where you don't want them, which in the rugby team's case, means letting a lot of try-scoring Bath players through."

He was so impressed, he promised to shamelessly nick it and use it elsewhere.
I wonder how his apparent knowledge of eye make-up will go down among the Bury supporters?

2008-09-02T22:32:00.004+01:00

Things to do when a vital piece of equipment is down, and you can't do any work:

Heatwave!

2008-08-28T10:29:00.002+01:00

No wonder Kirsty McCabe looks a little wide-eyed.
Windsor seems to be hotter than Mercury.

Class struggle

2008-08-27T14:11:00.002+01:00

Yesterday Pete said I was becoming ridiculously middle class.
The reason for this comment was my suggestion that we could give back the box we got our organic veggies in to be used again.
I prefer to think of it as being as environmentally aware as I've always tried to be, and keeping the prices down as well (organic veg isn't generally cheap).
But as I'm slightly ashamed of the middle class label, even though I definitely started life as working class, does that mean my transformation into one of the latte-rati ("There is nothing so repulsive as the "latterati". The sort who work in the media, live in Islington, drink in gastro-pubs, and disdain the bourgeoisie".) is complete?
In any case, I'm having great fun looking up recipes and planning gorgeous meals involving the contents of the new box.