When you dish upon a star

Whizhard soup, Sparkles!

2012-02-12T21:35:00.000Z

Arrgh! Help! Dani! I'm drowning. Gurgle gurgle. Would have been my reaction to swimming this morning on a hangover and four hours sleep, if it wasn't for the fortitude of my rock hard massive muscles keeping me afloat.

Oh sorry that's not me. I got mixed up with my hot but dim ex boyfriend. Last mention I promise.

I luckily had a child's flotation aid under my stomach to keep me from drowning during 30 minutes of light exercise in the slow lane.

Utterly spent, Dani and I forced our weak kindling legs back to dry land where Sparkles was waiting for us with some home made sweet potato soup that he'd just whizzed up. He really does shine as brightly as a star. A beacon, one could say, for our tired hearts.

Unfortunately, as Dani and I attempted to doze on the sofa post lunch, we remembered the promise we'd earlier made to Sparks. "Yes, of course we will make an igloo with you later. Now hurry up and make our soup in time for us to get back from swimming."

Hmm. So Mum1 and Mum2 dragged themselves out to the park with Sparkles and somehow made an igloo. It was really loads of fun apart from Mum1 (Dani) had ironically been most unMum and not brought gloves so her fingers were nearly frostbitten off. In a very Mum way this of course meant it was soon time to go home for tea and cake.

A lovely day xxxx

Hampered on Hampstead

2012-02-10T22:09:00.000Z

"I had a busy weekend. First I stayed at home. Then I went to bed". Not really. That's just what children in Tom's class write in their homework weekend reports. That I like to read to feel better about myself.

I actually had a winter picnic this weekend (again by this read months ago). It was loads of fun.

We had some very heavy bread. We were quite cross at Mark for buying it at first as we wanted a classic picnic baguette.

What stick in the muds in clean desert boots we were! It was actually DElicious. Although our wrists were a little sore after. Chaz couldn't even hold it to her mouth it was so heavy...

We married this ever so heavy bread with ham and cheese, with sides of grapes, yoghurts, and a big dose of moaning about the cold weather. Then Chaz and I got lost because we weren't following the boys every motion. But it turned out alright in the end as we found the pub and got very drunk.

THE END

I hope Mr Boreman gives me a level 5 at least for this!

Perfect 10

2012-02-08T21:58:00.002Z

Had a wild night out last night* for Bob's 125th birthday. We went to the Birdcage for kareoke. And yes, I performed.

I did a duet of the Beautiful South with Roast, and an extravagant solo performance of Jennifer Paige Crush. It went down a storm. To boos and howls..

Utterly traumatised I didn't even notice when I was bundled into a taxi and woke up to my surprise in Croyden. Oh! When did we cross the channel?

But I'm very adaptable so I bunkered down happily on my airbed and didn't awake until the morning when David Haddrell summoned me in for the extra special birthday ceremony.

I clambered into the parental bed and we sang the birthday song and gave Bob her cards and presents. Then, after betting account 40A had made the ladies some money for the day, Dave took us out for breakfast at http://www.bishopsgatekitchen.com/

We had a sumptious full breakfast, with not one but TWO drinks, which as everyone knows is the lap of luxury.

*It's with a yawn of resignation that I reluctantly point out to you that it was not last night, nor the one before, no indeed the week before. I'm a slow blogger alright!

Bad Santa

2012-02-06T21:45:00.000Z

It was pretty cold today. It looked more like Christmas than the imposter warm Christmas 2011 itself. As I wiped the thick frost off my windscreen with my jumper sleeve at 6am I thought, I know what will warm the cockles of my heart tonight. Reliving our London family Christmas party!

Here's a few photos for you

Ooh that's hot!

2012-02-04T08:00:00.000Z

So the only thing bad about not having muscles on tap now, aka that thick boyfriend I had (don't worry he can't read so this blog won't be a problem), is that I'm yearning for something else hearty. I wondered about some chorizo. A nice thick stew perhaps? Ooh some garlic bread. And I want a red wine with BODY.

With this in mind I went on a hot date with the gang to Le Monmartre in Islington. Obvs had the Pixies Fix, with pate to start, a very meaty fish gratin, and some creme brulee tinted kisses from Dave for pudding. Mainly lots of red wine. Who doesn't want a little sick in the toilet between courses?

Then we went for a drink at a nearby pub and I tried not to cry as Alex hit me in the face in time to Rhianna Rude Boy. Just incase I was missing any physical attention.

I think you'll agree, excellent photography as always.

Plenty more fish in the sea

2012-02-03T16:12:00.003Z

So I got dumped the other day. By email. Here it is for your pleasure.

Hi Frances.

I Just wanted to give you a little insight on something psychological that I think you might find interesting.

I think what you are unaware of is that I understand you better than you would think, here's how...

You want to be the person who chooses and chases the man but the irony in this is that probably most times in your past (relationships etc.) you have either ended up chasing the guy who

a) doesn't want you

b) is immature/insecure

c) over dominates you

I know you have a need to attain the 'unattainable' guy and you probably end up tricking yourself into thinking a guy is much more interesting than he turns out to be. Suffice to say you are always attracted to what you can't have.

I understand lately that you have seen a different side of me and you are probably thinking I have been weak and submissive, needy and asking of your permission to meet up. You have also seen the darkest, unexciting version of me in our latest meetings who isn't as dominant as you would prefer.

Let me just clear this up for you now. I am not looking for your permission to meet up, even on the subtlest level. I have wanted to meet up with you because I actually enjoy your company, your feminine drive to contribute and nurture and your passions. More than anything I just wanted to have fun experiences together.

I know you don't give me much of your time and for good reason. You most likely have multiple guys you see that give you things that make you feel validated, significant and wanted. If not from guys you get this from Family or Friends. And I realise this is why I get the same treatment because I'm no more important than anybody else. I just give you that little bit of something you need and you get the rest from whoever else. As you already knew, I wanted to be more than than this.

In the big picture of things, I know I'm an attractive guy and I'm strong, dominant, independent and fun. The fact that I have turned down advances made on me by girls since we've been together has shown my integrity and commitment to you. Just so you know, you were never a conquest or my Trophy. But right now I don't feel like your respecting my qualities as a boyfriend.

I will say I am sorry for pressuring you into trying to get to know me too quickly.

Here's the tricky bit for me though... In my mind I know that, just because I understand you, doesn't mean I'm right for you. And just because you are a nice girl to lots of guys, doesn't mean you are a nice girlfriend for me. I think I was kidding myself on this... and I need to be true to who I am and my values.

I really didn't want it to end like this but I can't see us continuing our relationship in the future.

I hope this has been thorough enough, if not you can let me know.

Gosh, I'm quite worn out after reading that misspelt epic. Yawn. I need some fuel. Lucky for me I had the pleasure of not one, but two, hot catches for dinner!

First, a nice bit of plaice with dauphinois potatoes, and second, asian sauced salmon with mash potatoes and caramelised carrots. Much easier to swallow than the above psy101 essay!

Bleak midwinter

2012-01-16T21:49:00.005Z

Like a parsnip emerging after the first frost I've dug myself out from crying under my duvet about having to move homes. No more am I going to compost myself in with the discarded wrappers of my old Christmas selection pack. I'm going to try to think positive about moving here (see right).

At least I won't have the room to entertain guests which will save me loads of money on arborio rice.

For now, as I can afford food, I've got some.

I thought I'd make a parnsip risotto for dinner with Bob, with produce from my own fair garden. Just had to pop outside and dig them up from the frozen earth. Didn't have a spade so just used a spoon. Well, I figured I would be using one for all the rest of the prep so why delay.

Unfort we had to delay as someone in Croyden had jumped infront of a train and made Bob so late that we had to eat risotto out of tupperware in the dark of the cinema. Mm. I ate mine in popcorn size globs just to get in the mood.

A cracking picnic!

2011-12-03T09:36:00.006Z

Dave came to visit me recently (not really, it was November. I've caught bloglag off Mark) and a lovely Autumn day in Richmond Park was on the menu.

Or so we thought....

We kicked off with a woodland spread of meat, cheese, crusty bread, fruit, pastries. During the conversation I wondered aloud if my future boyfriend would want to have woodsy picnics with me. Dave thought that no one would if I carried on eating like that..

We mopped the crumbs and salad dressing from our coats and set off for a bike ride among the frightened deer.

We had a hearty cycle and then Dave felt it was time to go home for crumpets and tv. I had a little pout at this as I didn't feel we'd had enough adventure.

"Dave, can we go off the cycle path?"

"Probably not a good idea, lets just carry on."

"But what about this massive bracken and tree covered hill? It would be loads of fun to cycle down pretending we were Ed and David Tithecott."

"Hmm, no, looks too dangerous."

Pout pout.

"Oh, ok, if we must."

Once I'd sailed shrieking down the hill merrily dodging thickets and small animals, I stopped and looked behind for my partner in crime. Oh dear he'd fallen off. I slunk back and asked if I could take a picture of him fallen off his bike to show what a smashing picnic we'd had. Dave

unfortunately had concussion and couldn't remember the picnic, why he was in Richmond Park, or indeed why on earth he would ever want to visit me....

Five hours, many attempts to chat up the ambulance men, and a diagnosed broken collar bone and concussion later, we were free to get a seventy pound taxi back from Kingston hospital with Dave's mangled bike and a scornful Rhapsody in the back.

Oh don't worry, I managed to finish the picnic in the hospital cubicle.

Fransgiving

2011-10-31T11:04:00.006Z

I know I know, every day you raise thanks be to God or someone, for the daily blessing of moi in your lives. What on earth would you do without my cooking bible advising you against eating the vegelez option on planes, and such.

With this in mind I threw an early Autumn thanks giving party for my ten favourite food pilgrims.

Coming the same day I stumbled off a waking night I was imagining it as akin to the trauma of those arriving in the New World. But thanks to the hours early arrival of Chazney, and the hours late arrival of my guests it was pulled off with no stress. In fact, I would say, with aplomb!

The day before I'd simmered the red cabbage with brown sugar, red wine vinegar, some old red wine, cinnamon, chopped up apple, red onion, and some lemon or orange juice (I can't remember really). This took two hours.

Then rising from my waking night shift nap I put the chickens and sweet potatoes in to cook before stewing myself in a nice invigorating bath. Was ready and dripping to answer the door

to Chaz at 4pm and to begin instructing her in most of the prep whilst I stuck into the mulled wine.

The sweet potatoes I squeezed ou t of their skin and mashed the flesh with lime and cinnamon, bedding them into a dish with a blanket of mini marshmallows to roast in the oven. This would go, I hoped, with masses of white mashed potato, green bean

casserole (Nigella's sex talk for cooked in loads of butter, and lemon), and the magnificent red cabbage. We had apple and chestnut stuffing, and jugs brimming with thick onion gravy.

For pudding we had hot apple and pumpkin crumble with a very crumbly brown sugar topping, and cornish vanilla ice cream melting all over it.

To set the scene I scattered, nay, tipped, three bags of autumn leaves over the kitchen floor. Just incase they didn't get the autumnal theme. And because I had nothing else to do the following day but sweep up leaf dirt.

White water shafting

2011-10-23T19:32:00.000+01:00

A few days later we were renewed, massaged to within an inch of our lives, clean, and fighting over the two pretty dresses between five girls trying to attract Sherpas.

We decided that to break up the remaining days in Katmandu we'd go white water rafting. It was loads of fun. Mid dangerous white water whirlpool bit, Joe shouted over the spit to me that I looked euphoric. Well, I am used to water. I have a bath most days.

I did need some cleansing as I'd had a terrible shock that morning.

The hotel had given me my wake up call for WWR (white water rafting for those in the know) at 5am instead of 6. Once I'd trundled down there and realised their mistake I decided to bed down in the dim light of the lobby sofa with the door man (separate sofas), and wait. There I was waiting patiently like a little angel, so as not to wake Eleanor if I went back upstairs, and something most unjust happened... Little Heather was creeping into the hotel at 6 am, followed shortly but "decently" after by a cocky Pemba. As you can imagine, I was askance!

I mean, I knew he was married, but I did not sign up to this! He's probably given me Legionnaires disease or asbestos. I've a good mind to circulate this scandal to Childreach. He's very lucky that this is just my private diary.

In absolute turmoil I ignored them both for the next few days until poor Heather broke down crying on the plane home. After she'd apologised I taught her the word degrading and she pronounced me wonderful. Practically sainted.

Sticking with my Saint Fran outlook on life I plumped for the Vegelez meal on the plane only to not at all get just desserts when it was absolutely disgusting. They gave us an apple to compensate for our sour faces.

And that was the end of that.

In suspense! Of whether we will make it home

2011-10-22T19:31:00.000+01:00

After the excitement and lets just say, anti climax of the night, we were due for a long hard day of walking. I suppose at least we were doing something. A couple of days before I was so bored that I wondered about using up my stock of tampons unnecessarily, just to fill half an hour.

Need not have worried about being bored as my entire day was filled up with walking. And crying. And aching. And being drenched and cold from torrential rain. AND having to be pulled up the last few miles of mountain by Pemba as I couldn't move my own muscles any longer. Let me tell you that's all he's going to pull now after ignoring me all today.

Anyway, a suspension bridge had collapsed in the earthquake meaning we had to forge our own path up two extra hours of almost vertical mud and trees. One stumble would have meant dropping off the sheer face of the mountain. Ssh don't tell Mum.

Eventually got back to Lukla. The village where our whole trek had started. I cried quite a lot and then moped around, well more rolled I was so padded with down. I really have never been in so much pain in my life. I was chain paracetemolling for days after.

I think we had some hot garlic soup that night. Mixed with drops of my tears of pain.

Rock my body

2011-10-21T19:20:00.003+01:00

We arrived back at Namche Bazaar, home of the highest pub in the world. I was planning on it being quite a fun night, if you know what I mean, so made sure I splashed out on a £4 shower.

Nice and clean I sauntered up to the dining room. At that moment the room shook. Well I wasn't sure if it had. Blind Spice announced that it did and I had started loudly and viciously deriding her when the Sherpas started screaming earthquake and everyone charged at the door. I obvs went too.

We stood outside in the dark, very scared. All the lights had gone off in the village. There hadn't been an earthquake in Nepal for 80 years. It was really scary. But after a while we got bored of waiting in the cold dark and sloped back inside for our dinner of yak steak. After we were settled round the table the Danes ran in armed with first aid kits and muscles, shouting 'is anyone injured??' We all looked at them like they were mad. Err we're eating..

FYI yak steak tastes like cat food. I forced it down and rushed upstairs to pick my tightest thermals out and 'do my face' in a non mountain trek way, ready for the proposed bar trip!

Cut to three am. No one could accuse me of not keeping morale up.

We had to stay awake till midnight to be ready to run from aftershocks. So £25 of Everest whisky and lots of dancing with the Sherpas later, I was somehow back exactly where I'd planned. In Pemba's excuse for an en suite.

Now that was what you call a natural disaster!

In a curry to go home

2011-10-20T19:00:00.001+01:00

During the night I was sick twice. Once I couldn't even be bothered to get up to go to the toilet so I just did it on the sheet. Add my print to the selection of stains already there.

El's alarm woke us at 3am for the sunrise walk up Kalaputur to view Everest. I was quite pleased I'd been sick as then I could have a lie in. Pemba came to my sleeping bag to touch me up, I mean feel my glands, and he declared that I was definitely too ill to go. I took his advice. Always trust your guide.

Hours later the others came back, we had omelette for breakfast, and began our descent. You'll be pleased to hear that within four hours we'd dropped down so far that my mountain fever was quite cleared up. I'd survived. Unlike the Danish firefighters who'd had to be carried down by a horse as they'd gone temporarily blind with altitude sickness. Hmm. Maybe my one or two trips to the cinema in my walking boots did prep me better for adventure than their two months of hard training.

Had a really nice curry for dinner and I perked right up.

Got my book out and looked very interested in nothing else but that in front of Pemba. Worked like a charm as suddenly he was at my side asking about it. Not sure he can read but had a go at explaining it anyway.

Then I played charades by myself to entertain everyone before bed.

A Nepalling day

2011-10-19T18:12:00.000+01:00

Dear reader,

Some very sad news. I have been struck down by altitude sickness. And I'm not just faking so I can get a medicinal greasy headrub from Pemba.

Today we started the day with a hearty breakfast of pancakes and PEANUT BUTTER. All far so good. I ate loads. I knew however, that it wasn't a good idea to go to the toilet as the smell would make me sick. Braved it and found a relatively clean one, but unfort I made myself sick by doing a huge poo and then looking down at it. Pancake poured right back to batter. I'm such a sensitive flower.

So I was already feeling a little faint when after my daily hug with the Danish fireman, Jens, I dragged my body out the door. Somehow, I managed to plod the 4 hours requisite to get to the next bleak little village. It was like walking uphill with flu. We had lunch. I ignored my popcorn.

And then another two hours along the glacier range to Basecamp. Was so BORING. Once I could see it I nearly sat down and announced that I couldn't be bothered. Somehow made it, just to sulk in all the photos, refuse to wear my childreach tee shirt, and lie on the floor eating snickers bars.

On the way back I was quite happy with the idea of lying down to die. Seemed better than the "sensible" option of walking another 2.5 hrs back to a dirty guesthouse for a dinner of potato encased in pastry.

Feeling Lo(buche)

2011-10-17T14:34:00.003+01:00

Was a day so hard that I couldn't move, speak, or not cry when I arrived at Lobuche for lunch. Luckily the Danish firefighters were there to rescue me with a hug once El had mopped up the most shambolic pieces of me. Jens gave me some good fire fighter cum hero tips on how not to freeze to death. Obvs used them to scare Blind Spice later.

The terrain was so bleak that it looked like where they'd film the end of the world scenes.

Rocky, misty, so hard. My legs quivered with each step.

After a lunch of rice and chips and lots of mint tea we had a really hard acclimatisation trek up to a glacier.

In the evening I developed altitude sickness and felt so faint. All I wanted to write from then on is BLEURGH BLEURGH BLAH.

Oh we had egg curry for dinner.

Crying high

2011-10-16T14:35:00.003+01:00

Woke up really early and the view from our guesthouse was spectacular. We were so excited we ran out. We'd arrived yesterday in a bowl of cloud so it looked like we were about to topple off the edge of the world. This morning the small farming community was surrounded by snow capped mountains gleaming in the sunshine. The villagers were already hard at work in the potato fields at 7am to harvest the potatoes before winter.

We had a crazy hard walk uphill 500m to acclimatise. We were so slow and finding it hard to breathe that it took hours.

After lunch of tuna sandwiches and chips we showered, fleeced up, and lay in the sun on the tin roof. I want to hang out with the Sherpas more- mainly for cuddles- but am settling shyly for sitting near and shooting coy looks. Then we went to the bakery for coffee and cake. Was great to get out as the afternoons get a bit stir crazy. We invited the Danish fire fighters we ran into. They're very muscley and talk about combating pain and fires.

One swallow does not make a summer('s evening pleasant)

2011-10-15T14:36:00.002+01:00

Walked through wispy willow trails. Blah blah blah. I'm too cold to write.

Everything then got covered in cold, Freudian slip, cloud.

All we can see is white we're so high. The walks are really hard. Stumbling, trudging up hill, like walking with flu. And the steep descents hurt our knees.

Ah my slanty writing in my diary looks like Bob's. I miss her.

Oh I forgot: At lunch Josh asked if it's safe to eat cold chips. Chantal probably knows as her Mother is a Doctor. She uses this as her evidence for everything.

The guesthouse is nice. Big communal room with benches all around which we bring our blankets on to for cuddling. Been feeling really low and need lots of closeness. Trying to use the girls rather than pouncing on Joe and scaring him, or my dear Pemba. Oh i'm so cold.

El kindly let Josh have an Ibuprofen. This was the start of 8 hours of him wretching brown (snickers) saliva over his hands, trousers, the table, our dinner. I moved for pudding. He was convinced he had it stuck in his throat and needed an operation. Pemba gave him two options finally.

1) Descend in the dark 8 hours down to Namche to see a Doctor

2) Be helicoptored to Katmandu in the morning.

I was so fed up of it I was willing to take one option myself.

He went to bed and we played a game of celebrity name on the forehead before we retired ourselves.

Ding dong Dingboche

2011-10-14T14:37:00.002+01:00

Slept really well unlike some poor souls who couldn't breathe in the altitude. Had a really nice pancake breakfast but the toilet smell was so rank that I was promptly sick. No more pancakes. Was restored enough to walk with a kendal mint cake, nutri grain bars and fruit tea from various kind associates. Still thought I was going to die most of the morning. I felt so sick and shaky.

Bit revived after a nice Pocohontas sing song with Qing and a potato curry and some sort of yorkshire pudding to mop it up. We sat outside in the beating sun with a view of the waterfall below and mountains book-ending us.

Was a really challenging ascent for most of the 6 hrs. I went painfully slowly at the back until Pemba lent me his Ipod. Went a lot faster listening to Usher describe exactly what he's going to make this lady for breakfast, lunch and dinner after she's "done" him a lot. I don't think I'd be that desperate for grape jelly on toast, or a Chinese takeaway.

OOh It's got so cold now that Pemba is wearing his down. I cannot resist a puffa jacket.

Hungover the hill

2011-10-13T14:39:00.002+01:00

Slept through the wake up call and sulked down to breakfast late to much laughter from others.

Apparently I'm a fun drunk. Hardly call two beers drunk. Must have been the altitude.

The naughty kids were very useful to comfort me as we stumbled and moaned our way up 400m of steep muddy path. The town did look phenomenal from above. So neatly laid out in grey stone. Blind Spice thought she could see another waterfall. I thought I could see right through her opinion that she doesn't have an eating disorder..

We struggled heavily up the mountain and four hours later arrived at the highest hotel in the world. I had a hot chocolate and tried to raise my head off the table to drink it. I genuinely worried that I was going to die as my heart was racing so fast. I felt really guilty about the prospect of death if it was my fault from drinking at altitude.

Back in Namche, fortied by a lunch of chips, pasta and coleslaw we went to explore the town. Ash bought twenty chocolate bars. I thought this was a lot but in a few days I was salivating at her every step.

At the guesthouse I had a hot shower (only £3) and bumped into Pemba on the stairs. He was obviously awkward as he'd been grossly inappropriate, but I reassured him it was fine. Unforch I'm suffering the classic conclusion of a lamplight of affection withdrawn: developed a little crush on him. Eurgh. Like having a crush on Winnie the Pooh. Luckily I have lots of opportunities now i've run out of clothes to wander about in revealing thermals.

No success yet.

P p p p pick up a Pemba

2011-10-12T14:40:00.002+01:00

After lunch time Momos (we'd asked Pemba to let us have Nepali food as it already felt too much like a school trip) we lazed away in the girls' room playing, 'Would you rather', wrapped in blankets safe from the freezing rain outside. Sophia bought £5 Pringles and it was fun and cosy picking away at them in her room.

There was umming and aahing later whether to go to the one pub we'd come across so far. Everyone was tired but I assertively announced that I wanted to go just for one Sprite, so we layered up and set off. The bar was a large wooden room covered in signed charity tee shirts, and a dj playing cds from a one disc slot. Even CDisco didn't leave two minutes between songs!

Speaking of... both Li Qing and Wo Wang (?) have asked respectively if I have Asian genes. They can smell a fellow exotique a mile up a mountain.

It may have been this attractive mystique or my wiggling to the music (only dance move I know), or the amount of whisky that Pemba had consumed, but as the others sensibly trekked back the the house, we began some dancing. The other naughty kids staying out late kept buying me drinks as I was the most fun. Then they got out the shots. I threw mine under a bench behind me as I couldn't imagine trekking up a steep hill the next day is too fun after Tequila. Stupid old Nepali bar woman saw me and complained I ruined the floor, but better that than my liver. I obvs denied it anyway and distracted everyone with some hearty hip wiggling.

It got later and later and I kept trying to extract myself. But every time I made a move to the pile of down and fleece I'd shed all the better to show off my thermal onesy, they'd snatch them away and sit me right back at my Everest beer. I was getting a bit desperate and my head hurt so I consented to being popped down on a carpeted bench under some coats until they were ready to leave. Next thing I know our responsible Sherpa guide is pressing me down and not with the weight of gore-tex. Hmm. I tried some Bob style desperate eye wiggling to Sophia and Charlotte, whilst hastily reshuffling my most unusual places to be courted list. This can zoom right past Weezer tribute night, but battle for position with concentration camp.

Although I did come away blotted with a few wet kisses, I managed to refuse his offer to, 'Come to my room', slurred hotly into my ear. Unforch grew to regret refusing the latter when my partners in crime crammed into the next door bedroom at the guesthouse and proceeded to discuss loudly how much they'd drunk. For the rest of the night..

High Alti-food

2011-10-11T14:43:00.003+01:00

Woke up quite easily in our little wooden room. Having the extra duve had been really nice. The view of mountains of pine trees blanketing our window was incredible. We had omelette, toast, more omelette and toast, and hot chocolate, and set off.

It was very Pocohontas. All towering tree covered mountains, rushing milky rivers, and rickety suspension bridges.

It was a very hard uphill walk. Was drenched in sweat and so hot under the sun.

The paths veered between sandy slopes, and tumbling rocks, as quickly as my mood veered between calm, stoic, and I cannot listen to Blind Spice comment on another waterfall. Yes, there are a lot of waterfalls. There's also a lot of trees, rocks, clouds, and problems I have with you.

Took about four hours but eventually the steep path climbed round to Namache Bazaar clinging to the side of the mountain. We were very surprised as it is massive. About 100 largeish stone buildings with coloured tin roofs perched on a tiered grassy town. It falls away into a deep bowl of gully with, yes that's right Blind Spice, a waterfall.

In our bedroom we're the same height as the thick swathes of cloud misted the gully so it looks like the town falls away to nothing, to the bottom of the world.

Himalayer up

2011-10-10T14:46:00.002+01:00

It was very cold in the evenings but most guesthouses were nice. Wooden inside from floor to ceiling, like in Twin Peaks, but less jazz music following my every sultry move.

Very cold and damp. We felt like we'd never get warm, however, a hot shower for £5 and all my red fleecy downy layers made me feel less chilled to the bone.

Ash, El and I went to get internet. The kids in the group followed us but a long queue combined with their short attention spans meant they soon peeled off to swap stories about PPE 101.

Afterwards in the room we made a sofa out of a duvet and cuddled together reading. It was so cold and misty outside that my tee shirts drying on the windowsill outside got icier. But we got cosier and fell asleep together on our sofa before dinner.

We entertained the kids over dinner (garlic soup, garlic potatoes, and vegetablely pasta) with word games and had loads of fun amid the popcorn debris. Laughed a lot.

Hasidic Spice was very annoying though. Her hair is probably so heavy on her head that her brain is slowed. She must have had it cut off when she got her first in Econboringnomics.

Anyway, it took Pemba about 15 mins to explain the next days plan to her and Blind Spice. Who by the way can't take a joke. Especially not about dying in her sleep due to being fussy and taking Altitude Sickness tablets unnecessarily.

Want to go to bed but it's just so cosy on our carpetted benches around the stove, and I don't want to miss Josh asking Usama and Daneel more probing questions about Ramadan, plane bombing, and generally being evil Muslims

The blind leading the blind

2011-10-09T14:47:00.002+01:00

Walking was mostly very hot and sweaty. The tree covered mountains, rushing waterfalls, and clouds were very beautiful but it was a bit overwhelming so I preferred to look at my feet.

Eurgh, how can Hasidic Spice bear to live with her vision being blinded by those frightful ringlets.

Oh the title of this chapter comes from her best friend Shrew Face. She's wearing black prescription sunglasses and waving her walking poles about in front of her so I've nicknamed her Blind Spice. El and I keep getting stuck walking by her and have to swiftly move back.

We passed lots of cute Nepali children playing outside in the dirt. Everything here gets covered in dirt. We passed a landslide which had destroyed two houses and killed six people. Daneel took a photo. He snaps everything.

We stopped for lunch gratefully at one of the many guesthouses. Ah a familiar meal. Carb on carb.

Trekfast

2011-10-08T14:49:00.000+01:00

Hasidic Spice (our leader dresses like she's from the 90s with hair like a Hasidic Jew), is wearing a tee shirt which says 'Anything unrelated to elephants is irrelephant.' I'll get it for Chaz as a joke. She loves elephants but will hate this.

Everything feels a bit damp like we're at a festival, but obvs better as no music, and it's an adventure.

We were woken at 7 am with knocks on the wooden doors of our little rooms. I found it very hard to get up. Felt a little cheated as I'd woken in the night and not been able to sleep again until I'd 'Quelled.' Yes, a side effect is feeling sleepy..

Was cold and damp but after I'd drenched my face with ice cold water from the tap I perked right up.

We had porridge and toast with a boiled egg for breakfast. My solid egg yolk fell out my egg and rolled across the room. We had yak butter.

We had our big bags loaded on to the yaks and we began our walk.

Our Lukla is in

2011-10-06T14:50:00.000+01:00

Nestled in Lukla (2850m) in my guesthouse bed at 7.30am. It's up the first bit of mountain after the most dangerous airport in the world.

Last night in Katmandu we had a traditional Nepali meal. Here's a picture but the most important thing to know is that they start every meal with a starter of popcorn. Pemba our guide says school children take it to school for lunch too.

Anyway, I'm in my sleeping bag trying to rest whilst there is a lot of banging and screeching outside. Main yellow boy keeps yelling about 'going into town'. Where does he think he is? Sheffield? They're probably going to take emo photos of their walking boots in a circle from above, or every puddle and piece of yak poo they stumble on.

Katman(can I)do this?

2011-10-05T14:57:00.002+01:00

Dear Everest Diary,

I'm at the airport trying to ignore the rest of the group until my actual friends arrive. Our leader person has made us put on our yellow charity tee shirts and have a photo. Hope my grimace doesn't break the camera...

Oh, El and Ash have arrived now which is nice. They're trying to make me mingle with the yellow monsters though. As a compromise I let the only other two Asian girls make a beeline for me. We can make a glossy black haired clique.

MMMm plane food. Looks like a serving of sick with an egg on top. Just WYDUAS's style.

What a scramble!

2011-10-02T14:37:00.000+01:00

Before I climbed Everest I did a practise run in the lakes with my darlings. Had been told I needed to wear my walking boots in a bit and odd trips to the supermarket in them just wasn't cutting it.

We arrived on the Saturday and after much red wine, merriment and, 'Are you there Moriarty?' we tucked ourselves up to dream of sunny walks and sunny side ups. I was happily snuggled up with Roast and slept very well.

We bounced out of bed the next morning and set about our egg factory. If we were going to be scrambling up mountains we needed some

sustenance! I set Sashy to the task of toast butterer. She had almost as good a good handle on the butter knife as old Peaches used to. But lets not talk about that before breakfast...

Then we shimmed up loads of mountains only stopping when the Dad's announced it was tea break and Twix time. We were on top of the world!

Butterscotched

2011-09-03T23:08:00.000+01:00

Seeing as I'd found Hampstead Heath so manageable I'm not too worried about climbing up Everest basecamp. Even so I thought I'd walk to the supermarket in my walking boots to practise a little more. Picked up some champagne to have for Dave's wedding party whilst I was there.

Whoever said there was no luxury in the great outdoors...

Then I had to swap my walking boots for heels as vertiginous as the Himalayas to go to the wedding. They were much admired and I was only felled when I sat down for dinner of five portions of butternut squash curry. It was very filling. Or so we thought until the staff caught Chazney rooting through the bins later desperately sniffing for curry sauce to hoover up. I was too busy excavating hidden bottles of champagne from behind plant pots.

For this much curry use 25 butternut squashes, loads of herbs, and stuff. Get some rice and pitta, get married, and serve.

The recipe for love

2011-09-01T22:38:00.001+01:00

Actually recently, I went to stay at Pink Granny and Grampa's for a soothing spa few days.

But as it turned out there was more on the menu than relaxation...

Concerned that my whinging at home in bed wasn't bearing the fruits of romance, Granny had put all the cards in place to set up a date with Trevor the computer man. Very thoughtful. I probably do need a sous chef in the date department as I haven't made anything rise up on my own of late.

So, just before Granny wilted off for her afternoon nap she gave me some tips. Just like an estate agent I was to sell my wares by having some brownies in the oven.

Here they are. 100g chocolate, 200g grated courgette, 100g sultanas, some walnuts I found on the side, some amounts of brown sugar and butter and flour. See, low fat, just incase Trev likes them not as junky.

Then she gave me a brief: uni degree and location Geography at Wolverhampton; current job computer man; location Essex; hobbies: fixing computers obvs. We would have loads to talk about now.

So I whipped up the brownies, stuck them in the oven, brushed my hair, and got prepared to charm about Wolverhampton. I even had a jam jar ready which I needed help opening. I like to make a man feel useful.

Ding Dong....

"Hello, is the laptop ready?" "Yep. Here it is." "Ok. I'll bring it back next Tuesday". "Ok. Bye."

Oh dear. I had to eat almost all the brownies after that to console myself. I'm not very good at this. Luckily the brownies were delicious.

Ever rest

2011-08-27T22:59:00.000+01:00

Need to wear in my walking boots before I mount September's summit so took my boots and Mama for a trip up Hampstead Heath.

Everest. Hampstead Heath. Potato.

Atop a hill we had a lovely picnic from Emporium bakery: vegetable pizza, tarte tatin, lemon tarte, peaches, pears, and cherries.

Then we trekked back in time to a 1950s German holiday camp as we dived into the swimming lake.

All those bodies wriggling together just like the broccoli and artichoke on our pizzas.

Su she

2011-08-25T16:40:00.001+01:00

I'd heard terrifying tales from Chaz and Bob of how *ahem* fun Lady Gaga Judas dance class was. So you can imagine I was quite quaking when I rolled up slightly late to the Shoreditch Studios, not so awfully long ago.

Luckily one of them had messed it all up and we were actually booked in for a session of calming yoga. Ahhhh. "God" is smiling on me..

Turns out I've got loads of stamina and core strength, as long as I'm allowed to mutter derogatory comments about the teacher under my breath to Bob. Chaz was stuck down stream wedged between the lycra clad bottoms of the only two sweaty men in the class. "And turn to your left.."

She must have been quite glad when we retired home to a cleansing sushi dinner.

Ever so simple to make, according to chef Bob. Get her to make a blog if you want to know how. I only know how to eat it. xxx

Cheese please

2011-08-23T16:53:00.001+01:00

Beaten into submission from an avalanche of boys, bucca, and the Carling Academy Angel (they don't know any better..), we were really in desperate need of something comforting one Sunday. Who to call? Mama Nigella.

If Mama Nige had really come round she would have cleaned up the glass of sick by my bed, figured out why my modest polo shirt had been knotted into a belly top, and told Bob to stop spitting drinks in my face. As it was she bought my sleepy Chaz and Roast and the recipe for her, "back from the bar snack".

It goes like this: "Aaah.' *Gets up and stretches in white silk gown*. "It's 3 am, I need a snack to soak

up all those cocktails I supped last night. A sack of new potatoes, pack of bacon, whole pack of cheddar and frozen peas should do it. Cook , yawn, mush together and there you have it. All down my gown."

So we ate this whilst making her quadruple

chocolate loaf to take (mostly all of) to Marky's birthday BBQ.

We also watched 'He's just not that into you' and criticised Scarlett Johansson for being fat. She probably eats just as much bacon and cheese as us...

xxxx

Shine and dine

2011-08-21T16:29:00.001+01:00

Cleaned the kitchen floor the other day (okay, fine, in June), so obviously couldn't get to the fridge to eat without getting wet feet. Big dilemma. Stay in and starve? No, as much as we need a clean floor, I'm sure Alex and Jess wouldn't want my death dirtying their conscience. No mop sorts that out.

With my hands thus tied I decided to go out for lunch with Roast. We had a big brunch at the Breakfast Club, and I had three drinks. Smoothie, Earl Grey, water. As we've agreed, the lap of luxury. My purse will be as clean as the floor soon.

Then we were still not sated so decided to walk to Ottolenghi via a paper selling shop, to get tea and cake.

We gorged ourselves on chocolate cake, carrot cake, and rich conversation. Probably too much as I couldn't quite be bothered to drag myself off the chair to go to my next engagement: a hot date at the tow path cafe. Great, more tea.

Of course it was no good anyway. Roast had quite spoilt me!

Lazy fare

2011-08-19T16:17:00.001+01:00

Took to the boats not long ago (of course, I mean months ago, i'm just trying to disguise that I haven't blogged since May) with James and Bob. I always try to show guests the softer side of London/ make them row me around all day whilst I recline on the bow stuffing picnic into my mouth.

Anyway, RECENTLY, we did that, and we took with us a hamper of fresh garden produce from my own fair hands.

Tomato salade with a splendid lemon, pepper, salt, olive oil dressing, crusty bread to sandwich said tomato, then dip in said oily remnants, and sleepy Peter Rabbit salad leaves from the garden. Whenever I've had them I blame my afternoon naps on them. It's a wonder I don't end up in Mr McGregor's lair.

What did happen (on that very much only just passed occasion) is that James and Bob, taking advantage of my lettuce laissez faire, rowed me straight into the arms of some waiting fireman. They were on the bank testing out their equipment.... I only just managed to come to my senses before I got gang sprayed.

Luckily we escaped and I was rowed back into the middle to enjoy my pudding of peach pie. Pastry absolves all problems for me. As Antonio Carluccio says, "if only Libya ate pasta...."

Courgnot?

2011-08-17T16:04:00.001+01:00

Had a bit of an accident whilst prepping dinner recently. Thought I'd be all au natural and use the garden produce, but not only did I accidentally use Jess' courgettes instead of mine, I also mistook her butternut squash for a gorge corge. It was a baby, and may I say, quite in disguise.

Never mind. I had a wild time with all my stolen goods. I made grated courgette, chilli, lemon, parmesan, and pine nut spaghetti, with an afters of roasted peaches with mascarpone. Personally, I find the seasoning of guilt as effective as pepper, which is lucky as I always forget to season the traditional way.

Something you may find useful: When you've grated the courgettes you have to squeeze all the moisture out of them in a tea towel. Then when as dry as Alex's humour you add them to the other ingredients and fry briefly.

OOh look how much Bob is enjoying that. Don't get that expression in Croyden, do you!

Harry Potato and the Sorcerer's sausages

2011-08-14T15:54:00.001+01:00

I received a sign the other day that it was okay to eat sausages. I'd been querying them as Becky Sunshine's Granny calls them little parcels of surprises. And I don't really like risks, David Haddrell.

However, when I bought my potatoes to mash, one reached out to me in the form of the mark of Harry Potter! I felt like it was saying to me 'trust in the unknown, even though these sausages are only 64% meat, the rest of it isn't necessarily bad.'

Adventure panic over I fried up the saus saus, and ate them with mash, cider gravy again, and a bed of greens. Ever so warming. Then I watched an entire box set of Teachers as if I was in possession of Hermione's Time Turner and could seek solace in 1999.

The ricotta riots

2011-08-12T15:31:00.006+01:00

People have been rioting that I'm so behind in my blogging! Can you imagine. Frustration from my fans had spread like pouring cream right from Hackney to the North. Well, I am very popular.

Well don't worry. Abi, Juliet, and Louie B, you can stop anxiously facebook statusing, and start reading, as I'm BACK!

I've got loads of courgettes from the garden- well not my garden really but from someone who wanted to feed me up- so I googled what

on earth to do with them. The BBC seems to think that creamy courgette lasagne is a good idea. I will have this with beetroot leaf salad. The beetroots are not seasoned with stolen, but mine you'll be pleased to know. My first crop.

The aftermath: We very much enjoyed this sat in the garden with our four bottles of wine. Afterwards we watched Twilight and painted our nails. I even managed to sneak Mum's favourite fuchsia onto Alex's toes when he was distracted with his wine. They looked blooming lovely!

Murder on the grassfloor

2011-05-28T09:01:00.012+01:00

With passions flying in these heated times we thought it was time to cool down a bit with a good old fashioned waterfight. Everyone assembled in the garden wearing a pick n mix of all my old clothes and chucked water balloons at each other whilst the children from next door stared open mouthed. It wasn't that good.... I've not come much further than when Dad would only arm me with a Vitalite tube of water vs the neighbour hoodlum's supersoakers. Forced Conscientious Objector of the modern day.

Once chilled it was time to sit down in the hastily assembled Cath Kidston tent for dinner. We had sausages braised

in cider and shallots, with red cabbage, and sage mash potato. It was delish. For pudding we had strawberries and cream, and managed to leave some cream on our spoons!

Hotel Chocolat

2011-05-28T09:01:00.007+01:00

After an indulgent lie in until 8.30am I was up and raring to go. Alex had suggested I 'tret' myself after my gruelling stint of 12 hour shifts hard labour so I sniffed in my room for something to achieve that.

In my chocolate box was the dregs of my birthday chocolate from Dave F so I gobbled that up.

Argh! Chilli! Forgot that it was the white chocolate that had chilli flavouring. My freshly awoken mouth was still too tender for such alarming flavours. Quick, what could extinguish the flames?

Doggie? He looks too sad about that.

What about just his tail? But that would only be a lick. Probably not worth it.

Oohh a glass of milk followed by a bath whilst watching 90210. That sounds like a proper soothe. Although Doggie can only lap up the pleasure of one of those as I don't want him to melt in the hot water.

Shepherd's Cry

2011-05-07T10:05:00.000+01:00

I quite thought my last day at work would be accompanied by the sobbing strains of

"Goodbye my lover, goodbye my friend, you have been the one, you have been the one for me...blah blah."

Alas it wasn't to be. My clients didn't really seem to mind too much. One told me to get lost and refused my handmade origami farewell card..

Luckily Becky Sunshine came over for dinner to cheer me up with her heavenly face. We made a spring shepherd's pie with lots of cream and cheese in the mash to make me feel better. Something which you won't feel after looking at the photos as they look a bit sick.

Waity for Katy

2011-05-05T10:08:00.000+01:00

Bob and I both awoke really early with wedding nerves after a night full of anxious nightmares (Rebecca Marsh dying, and Bob making us late by insisting she go to the toilet at my house not in public, respectively).

This was it. Our big day. We met at 10pm in a four mile queue for the Book Club street party. Two hours and lots of Pimms later we were turned away a few people from the door as they'd reached capacity. Not very nice. Mum always said people have room in their hearts for a few more.. Clearly not.

So we scampered off to the Breakfast Club and got "Eggs Royale" and a

bottle of champagne. We enjoyed this, watching the wedding on the iphone propped up by our ketchup bottle.

Unfort there was a little green fly in the dregs of my last glass so I demanded and received another bottle immediately. Two bottles of champagne later I was sick in the toilets and had to go home. I knew the Monarchy made me feel ill!

The river delivered

2011-05-03T09:35:00.001+01:00

Most days in my head I end up singing that old classic from Pocahontas: Just around the river bend. It speaks to me because I like water, and I've got really dark brown eyes like her. Kindred.

It goes "La la la, I look once more, Just around the riverbend, Beyond the shore, Where the gulls fly free, Don't know what for, What I dream the day might send, Just around the riverbend, For me, Coming for meeeeeeeeeee."

Well the other day around the river bend I got some right treats. Finally coaxed some boy into liking me a bit you see. He took me to NOPI, just because I'd been going on about Yotam so much. Then we went for a Pimms on the South Bank. THEN we got the boat along the river to Kew. THEN we went for a late lunch on the riverbank. THEN we sat watching the sunset pretending we were locals. I wished I had my designer wellies and my designer dog for that part.

Shall I do a restaurant review? Yes, says my one reader.

Ok then. Nopi was very nice. My lemon pancakes were lovely, and Tom's black rice and mango was also delish. Although the waiter took away our sourbread when we weren't finished. But then the toilets were well cool to make up for it, and this time I wasn't sick in them.

ANTI FAMINE (the game)

2011-05-01T09:30:00.000+01:00

Appetites sated, and cava thirst slaked, at Alex's birthday picnic we surveyed the abundance of food strewn before us. Collectively we thought 'ah I wish we could donate all these posh handmade pizzas and poo lentil salads to the victims of worldwide disaster. But how?'

Actually what really happened is that Alex threw a carrot baton at me, then Chazzy threw a satsuma and "Anti Famine" was born. After the first few smears of organic sundried tomato on my clothes I realised it needed stepping up a bit so that's where the head to toe bin bag look came in.

No, Lexie, don't eat that!

2011-04-29T09:02:00.000+01:00

Occasionally, to combat the fact that I like to lie in bed of a morning eating entire packets of Lindt Lindor eggs before work, I do a bit of exercise. Probably don't need it- Lindor is so irresistibly smooth that it may just slide off my body. But just incase.

So the other day I cycled home from Rugby station. This took me fifty

minutes of hilly country lanes with one hand hanging wildly off the bike trying to control the satnav on my iphone.

Ooh hope that's not dinner!

Luckily Pailton farm shop was on hand to serve up lashings of chorizo, olives, pie, apple juice, freshly baked bread, cheese, pickles, and obvs a picnic is incomplete without crisps. We ate it by the lake with Lexie on a very tight leash.

Vien-get-her

2011-04-27T09:16:00.005+01:00

I'm still a little concussed by the shenanigans at the BBQ last night to lucidly write of its going ons. All I remember is Bob leaving muttering something about human sacrifices being next, and even Chazney when told about it, saying, 'Gone too far? Perhaps.'

What I can remember is a delightful gathering under the bunting in the garden. Chris manfully

stepped up to the Step-Dad role with Alex away and tenderly BBQd us some homemade pork and apple burgers, sausages and salmon. We also had a tomato, cucumber and rocket salade and a potato salad. And the obligatory crisps that disappear way before the mains, and some tear and shares. It didn't get too heated whilst eating. The environmental psychology of the kitch picnic rugs and children playing nearby cooled the whoops and nipple flashing down, so in the end the only worry was the choking game. Still that was fine as Chris was wearing leather gloves so didn't mind when I bit him. The meaty tongs holding open my mouth didn't even hurt that much too.

But with the advent of four vienettas we decided to go inside to warm up before all that minty chilled dessert could get to us.

Then my mind goes as blank as if I had been buried alive in ice cream and I can't remember what happens next. I don't think I even have the words for it. In the video you can hear me wailing in a corner. You'll have to wait for Sashy's photos for the true aftermath.

Lets just say, I did clean up after. I promise.

xxxx

Blackilocks and the two bears

2011-04-27T08:48:00.003+01:00

When I'm telling a fairytale, I like to update it, give it a bit of feminism, a bit less murder, a lot less Amanda Seygfried.. So I was glad to trample all over the brothers Grimm on my way to Rotherhithe for breakfast the other day.

Once upon a time, a very un-streetwise young woman wondered sleepily right out of the East and tumbled into a very nice flat in the Rotherhithe resort, quite unknown territory. And who should the poor quaking flower find there?

Yes, more purr than grr aren't they? They were cooking up a storm for their breakfast but didn't mind little Blackilocks tucking in with them. They gave her some pajamas so she could fit into soft sleepy land and served her up a feast washed down by Le Creuset pots of tea.

They were just her kind of bears!

M for Murder, or Mustard

2011-04-12T09:16:00.000+01:00

As i was tucking into my carrot and butterbean soup at work the other day, my colleague asked, 'Are you half vegetarian? I've never seen you eating meat'.

I was oddly quite offended. Made me feel not very hard. Of course I like abusing and murdering animals for my olfactory pleasure. And to prove it, on a quiet Tuesday night when I could've been in making lavender bags or quietly demonstrating for PETA, I had a BBQ for Alex, Jess and I.

I made some burgers out of slightly cheap mince, chopped onions, cheese, garlic, herbs. Served with pitta and veg (ssh it was meant to be served with sausages, gammon, chicken thighs and foie gras but my nerve failed). Oh and chips. They're quite rough so I think they upped my cool rating.

Tea for two

2011-04-09T09:25:00.000+01:00

Was meant to go on a first date quite a few weeks ago but I was having such a nice time having tea at Roast's house that I bunkered down in his lap and stayed all day fed only on scones and jam and Rhoddas clotted cream.

No, that's a dream. I did go on the date post elevenses with Roast, but as it wasn't that interesting I'll spin you a new tale as fast as Jess spins soap dishes out of old plastic bags*.

*And lets just say we've got a few..

So Roasty and I baked some fresh scones like we were straight out of an

Enid Blyton book. We ate them all whilst licking the last flakes of dough off each other and

chatting about how cute

we looked with jam in our hair. Roasty then brewed us some Earl Grey to wash it all down. He accidentally spiked mine with sugar which I don't usually like (I'm sweet enough you see) but I was so raspberry jammed up that I couldn't even notice the difference. Then we just fell asleep in a heap like kittens.

What a dream day!

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

2011-04-04T09:13:00.002+01:00

I had the very special treat the other day of meeting Roast's new amour Adam. Hi Adam. Doubt anyone reads this now but I'll pretend. Sob sob. Slit Slit. (My bed is like a village pond around me with all this liquid literary distress. I know just how Virginia felt).

We went to Byron burger for, well, a burger. My favourite bit about it is how it comes with a gherkin on the side. Just like my lunches in New York. Because not everyone likes gherkins I got quite a few at Byron. Not just like New York, as in New York I lunched alone. So I only got my one. Alone. Like me.

Sorry I'm being too me me me when this blog is actually about Chris' burger pain. His juicy burger arrived much later than everyone else had finished theirs. It was tres embarassing for him. And we hated watching him eat. To distract us he put his gherkin in the top of the burger like a candle.

We all got puddings to cheer ourselves up. And to cheer himself up Chris taunted me with a glace cherry for what felt like days...

OOh i've got a new eyeliner...

2011-04-02T21:06:00.000+01:00

and other girl stories.

I'm ever so sensible and into infection control and brown Clarks' lace ups, but when I get with Chazzah and Bobbeh we get quite silly billy.

Anyway, we reunited and shared our new eyeliners (mine's Neal's Yard fyi) and got extremely overexcited about going out. See, look at Bob's face. She can't wait.

That's probably the best bit of this story. Certainly, wasn't when she got forty pounds stolen, or when my vodka pouch got caught by security, or when an 8 year old tried to pull us (no Callum, I'm your teacher), or even when Bob knocked a tray of water onto the bed and we had to sleep in it wrapped up in towels like babies fresh out the bath.

P.s it's not just the camera perspective on the soupy photo. Bob and Chaz made me have a serving bowl full. Well, the joke was on them as I ate it all and enjoyed it probably more than their company.*

*joke. Although as if you even read it now to see.

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,

2011-04-01T08:41:00.006+01:00

bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens..."

NO NO NO Maria. Sssh. Those are not my favourite things. My favourite things are carbs.

"Gravy drops on potatoes, and chocolate on creme cakes. Bright buttery croissants, and warm plates of risotto balls. Big wedges of lasagne tied up with cheeeeese. These are a few of my favourite things!"

Ah yes. I think you'll find only those will soothe the pain of a dog bite (not that Lexie would ever do that to anything else but vulnerable nesting birds), and soak up the tears of my leaving for New York with their absorbent carby textures*.

* p.s yes this is yet another month overdue blog. I'm surprised this blog hasn't gone as past it as the bread I left in the cupboard for two weeks.

Anyway, right before I went away I went for breakfast at Ottolenghi. I had a heavy plate of french toast and my fellow diner El had a whole carb board.

The bread board even comes with its own toaster to the table. And a trough of butter.

The last supper

2011-03-26T20:58:00.000Z

I'm spoiling the end of the story by writing this blog post now and not a month ago like I should've, but anyway, this is the tale of the last group dinner before I went to New York.

We've had more since. I'm not dead like Jesus.

Sorry, non existent.

The beginning:

Well, as usual I accidentally invited round ten people for dinner. My friends are like those strings of Walls' sausages. Very hard to separate. Not that I'd want to, as I like strings of sausages that tumble into the oven together. Oven, or medium sized kitchen with ten people in it talking very loudly about teaching (for some reason) whilst I tried to not rub raw mince into my chilli stinging eyes.

Everyone dipped in (stirred the meatballs, not double dipped) and soon it was ready. Moroccan meatballs with herby cous cous. It was widely commented that this was my best dish yet.

The end:

We finished the main. Polished off orange marmalade upside down cake courtesy of the lovely Alex. Did some group youtubing. Then made heavy hints for everyone to leave so we could go to bed.

A dressing down

2011-03-14T10:26:00.004Z

Vegelezzas go on loads about how meat is really bad for you because of all the stress hormones the animal contains from seeing their fellow animals getting killed in front of their terrified eyes, but I've recently discovered that salad is much more dangerous!

Look, the dressing cut me!

(the top of the glass was broken)

Toad in the wholesome

2011-03-14T10:06:00.005Z

After going out most nights on a diet of martinis and shows tunes my Uncle and I were ready to stay in with a nice home cooked meal.

I whipped us up some individual toad in the holes with sweet potato mash, special mushrooms (I never believed that mushrooms not from Tesco basics have "loads of flavour" but they do), gravy, and spinach cooked with a bit of ginger.

As you can see from the photos of my individual TiTHs I've gone SUPERSIZED!

Yellow, is it me you're looking for?

2011-03-10T12:50:00.003Z

When I was in New York recently my Uncle and I went to the farmer's market and were shamed into buying a dozen eggs for $8. Not noticing the $4 ones on the next stall. Oh well, I think the hippy woman said they were fed on falafel, or alfalfa, or something good for us.

For the first few mornings I tiptoed around them in the kitchen feeling that I couldn't possibly be worth a 75 cent egg for breakfast. At that point I hadn't even worked out which coins made up 75 cents.

However, after some gentle chiding from Robin about wasting the most expensive eggs in the world I took the plunge and ate scrambled eggs for days on end.

Look how bright yellow they were. More than the bananas and my Reiss jumper. They were the yellowest eggs I'd ever found. Shame that everything I make looks a bit like sick.

Ham Fisted

2011-02-18T09:35:00.003Z

I seem to be making a few mistakes recently. Getting in a lot of scrapes. Let's pretend that when I dropped the soap down the sink and blocked it for a month, or spilled bleach on my trousers, that I had two giant hams for hands and therefore it wasn't my fault at all.

It's nice that when I go to Blue Granny's for the day all is forgotten. She said she couldn't possibly mend all the holes in my clothes that I'd rent since last time, but she sure did darn my spirits! Even though we did have fist of ham for lunch.

It was delicious though. With very buttery mash, sweet turnip and carrots. Two puddings obvs followed- apple pie AND trifle. The mistake there was following that with an afternoon of maids of honour and crumpets. I'm still in pain now. If only my fists were made of ham then I couldn't pick up all those cakes!

I got carroted (prounounce as garotted please)

2011-02-08T22:22:00.000Z

I thought I'd gone off carrots after the other day when a sluice of orange juice roared upon me.

Someone had wanted to make carrot juice with my help so I dutifully peeled and chopped his sack (yes sack) of carrots and popped them in the blender.
The first blender we tried started smoking so we abandoned that and went onto the next. The cupboard contained four so I had faith that one would work.
Trial and error and disappointment led us to grating the carrots, then boiling them, then finally success with more water.

Carrot juice! Warm, but still unmistakably carrot juice.

I opened the lid of the blender tap and watched in slow motion horror as an orange liquid leapt at me. All over me. Over my jeans, over my ham and egg patterned socks, over my long suffering desert boots. My client remarked that it was '"very disappointing".

I thought as I went on a little date half an hour later with no opportunity to change that at least if someone likes me like this then they really like me.

Alas no.

Oh well. Anyway, so I thought I was 'off' carrots but I enjoyed them surprisingly much on Sunday evening (boiled with honey) along with roast chicken, parnsips, broccoli and gravy. And Leila and Alex's company.

Flobbalobalob

2011-02-07T21:58:00.004Z

Alex and I have been lusting after a bargain bucket from KFC for ages. I'm not sure why. We've clearly taken leave of our senses. If you want an example of how much by, let's just say that Alex is googling it right now, reading what the blogs say. To prep.

I can hardly throw popcorn chicken (just like stones), I'm blogging about it way in advance, frothing at the mouth like the chickens probably do as they're mauled to death after a 1 week life span in a box.

Anyway, enough about animal rights. We'll have it with salad, yeah (Not).

There are more important things to be discussed here. Such as, to bone or not to bone?

If it were up to me we'd get the chicken on the bone. Juicier. Alex, however, has an aversion to meat on the bone. I have an aversion to not agreeing with Alex, so we're having the "boneless bucket." Even the wings. How do they do that? They remind us of the flobalobalobalobaolob globs of protein that the plant people stick together in Atwood's post apocalyptic 'After the Flood.'

Update: We've just eaten. We feel very sick. It didn't even taste of anything. Apart from the flobalobalobalob which tasted of salt. I think I need a shower.

Pieces of my broken heart

2011-02-06T12:50:00.000Z

People tend to use cups of tea to soothe away the aches and pains of a bad event.

Well we needed a full cream tea after the disasters of Bob's first birthday party! She obviously had two. As you can see, her cups are overfloweth...

We did have loads of fun at the first party, it was just that all the presents got smashed. Me and David Haddrell were the culprits. Couldn't stand the attention being taken away from us. We wanted to fill the conversation with boys and gambling fraud, respectively, but Bob kept chirping on about Great British Railways with Michael Portillo and we couldn't get a word in. SMASH!

The second one was much gentler. And luckily the RA cafe hadn't smashed their antique Wedgewood chinoiserie three tier cake stand as the Hadron collider had Bob's, so we had something to put our cakes on. And cucumber sandwiches. And scone with copious cream.

Holy mackerel!

2011-02-04T13:22:00.000Z

Recently I had to help someone attend some Saint's day at a Greek Orthodox Church. It was quite an ordeal. I had to wear a sticker with the Saint's face on it, light four candles, kiss all the icons whilst crossing myself, be the only person there under fifty, be the only one wearing colour (bright red), be the only non Greek..

All this did not stop me taking Holy Communion. Which I only did because I was hungry.. Didn't really get anything good though. A spoonful of honey wine stuff and a chunk of slightly stale bread! At least the Quakers had a proper bring and share lunch after it.

So I was very hungry by the time I got to Granny's later in the week for lunch. I thanked God for providing me with copious amounts of crusty bread and fish (anchovies).

Which I ate like I was a penguin! Mmm. Had to feed myself cos Mum refused to pretend that she was at the zoo.

Black cherry

2011-01-28T12:51:00.004Z

Roast pirouetted me out of the fog on Monday with a medley of boiled new potatoes, cheddar cheese, bacon, and peas. Otherwise known as Nigella's "back from the bar snack".

As if she ever goes out. You can't maintain such a glossy body weight by doing anything but standing at the fridge tearing off hunks of cheese for a "bftbs". (yes, something she recommends for this dish. Greedy mouths haven't got time to grate).

And Roast and I certainly didn't have time to slice and fork, when it came to the quadruple chocolate loaf. We ripped off the less boiling hot edges like Natalie Portman's cuticles,

and stuck them in some tupperware to take the the cinema. Kept trapping each others' fingers in the tin as we tried to shut it, so desperate we were for more gooey chocolate pud.

We took the whole meal in a series of tupperware to the cinema to see Black Swan. Concerned that the usher would see that we'd brought our own dinner we ate the menu like popcorn with our fingers. Well, that may just have been me. Roast used a fork. Alex wouldn't eat his as it smelt too strongly.

A radiant meal. We were certainly the only members of the audience giggling through any part of Black Swan.

Juicy Couture

2011-01-28T11:57:00.004Z

What seems like months ago, but may just have been last week (when you mostly exist in a daze of work and bed, sometimes at the same time, it's hard to know where you are sometimes), I went to Dave's for a nourishing little brunchy.

As he greeted me I was enveloped in the pull of sleep. Hmm eau de bed. Could just lick it off him like butter off toast. Luckily I had been told to bring my jarmies so I could emulate sticky slumber myself.

We busied ourselves in the kitchen making Dave's magic muffins whilst Daddy made business calls. Dave poured out the milk for the tea and I helped myself. Tasted a bit funny but I assumed I'd just made it wrong.

Once the eggs were poached and settled upon the buttered bacon stuffed english muffins like wobbly jellies we sat down to eat. Eurgh the milk is off, exclaimed Dave.

Oh. Again, I thought the little white bits in it were just because I made it wrong. Wish I hadn't drunk it all without a murmur. Luckily we had orange juice with juicy bits and a mouthful of pink champagne to take the taste away.

Then I had to go back to work, and Dave and Chris had to sink back into bed so we tearfully parted ways.

I like mine thick

2011-01-11T12:04:00.003Z

Roast commented that when he was younger he thought he'd never go to a "dinner party" like his parents used to have, but he supposed this was one. Hmm. From my vantage listening point on the stairs I don't remember my parents watching youtube videos of cute dogs, or having a fourth course of smashed nuts. (FYI Sashy's thighs are great for the walnuts.)

Well what we lacked in quality we made up for with a huge quantity of sausages in a thick tomatoey garlicy juice with rosemary and some other herbs I can't recall. It was all cooked nestling together in olive oil and red wine vinegar, mopped up on our plates with tear and share.

I did serve a side salad. Just like the dinner parties our parents used to have..

A medium rare trip to Croyden.

2011-01-09T12:15:00.008Z

Two hours! Two hours! Is how long it took to get to Bob and David Haddrell's house in Croyden. I could have been home and running a bath in Monks Kirby already in that time.

Luckily for them (as we'd been stirring up mean comments as we would a risotto), the meal, and the company was an absolute dream as soon as we crossed over their suburban threshold.

We had a dish of steak and creamy white bean sauce, with salady bits. I had probably encouraged Bob to do it quite a bit less than medium rare so I got to finish off Alex's bloody bits. Chewed, but the flavour not gone.

Then just as I was casting my eye round the room for some bones to gnaw on Bob brought out the cider apple jellies! With Rhoddas clotted cream.

OOOOh. That soothed the ulcers in our travel angry mouths right down. Once the jelly was finished we just spooned straight from the cream pot.

Once every drop had been licked from the bowls we retired to their tres elegant sitting room to finish off their Christmas chocolates and recall, 'what it's like for a girl..'

Now that's one situation that really did have blood dripping onto our plates.

p.s the chocolates had David Haddrell's face on them. We ate his colleagues in ascending order of looks.

http://www.youtube.com/user/marktakespictures#p/u/10/abmQZQQRgjY

Love and other drugs

2011-01-09T12:01:00.006Z

Bonding with my ladies over smoking cessation (I am the officer you know, armed and ready to prescribe), I popped a NiQuitin sweetie to convince them it didn't taste too bad.

Dizzy, swooning, head in the toilet later, I spent the next hour careering round the office groggily whilst attempting to load up injections, run baths, and mash potato. I'll never know how Mums can take to gin. Drugs and mothering just doesn't mix.

After work, spat out into the cold night, I just about managed to board the tube and drag myself to Leicester Square to meet Bob. She found me in the middle of the traffic island gently weeping as tourists tutted about how the West End was going down hill. Is she in a gang?

We thought just

the thing to soothe me was a Pret meatball wrap (deliciously outrageous as we'd never usually spend money on sandwiches out).

Tummies full, we went to empty our wallets on £14 cinema tickets to see Love and Other Drugs. The ads were almost too much for me to take in my heightened state of senses. So BRIGHT. So LOUD. Please STOP! Managed to stick it out.

p.s Bob, do you remember when the door of the coach hit him in the face? Hahahahahaha.

We're very mean. Our favourite bits were when they got hurt, and when we kept thinking the girl had died when she was just asleep.

Weekfrienders

2011-01-09T11:02:00.007Z

Really don't know how you normal people cope with having every weekend off. They're exhausting. So much pressure to do fun things. At least at work I'm guaranteed a McDonalds, a good session watching the Yesterday channel, and some colouring in time before 5 o'clock.

Luckily help was at hand with Alex itinerising our every breath.

1) Dalston Kingsland 12pm. (12.13pm if you're Chazney i.e. late)

2) Froggat Frondsley for the Freud museum 12.45pm. 1 hour allowed for browsing Freud's pot plants and me pretending I know everything about psychoanalysis. Psychology BSc I'll have you know.

3) 1.45 pm. Walk to Hampstead Heath via pubs to keep us hydrated/sedated. Time off for dog blogging photos.

4) 2.30pm Dawdling built in. For someone with such an athletic physique I'm actually quite bad at walking. Need pushing up hills.

5) 3.15pm. The desert boots were well and truly spoiled

6) Nice pub 3.30pm. Muddy, dog savaged, yet incredibly happy we sat down in the door way to eat.

p.s got a really cool dog to come and talk to me by smearing my fingers with gammon juice and waving a gammon bone in his face.

Santa's breast is best

2011-01-07T23:04:00.000Z

What is that I hear tinkling through the air?

Why it must be Santa's sleigh bells as he drops the reindeer off (Dashy and Sashy and Dancer and Blitzen, and Roasty, and Chazzy, and Bobby and Mitzen.. etc). Don't worry Santa I'll have them back for the 24th. Bye for now.

Then Alex and I popped the kids upstairs sucking on their bottles of cava bien merci et vous to keep them amused whilst we sweated over a vast hot stove of food.

We had braised red cabbage, brussel sprouts with flaked almonds, mashed swede, roasted carrots, potatoes, parsnips, peas, pigs in blankets, and....chicken.

I'm sorry readers, instead of turkey we had chicken. And instead of a full chicken we bought individual breasts. Well we're working women! What do you want??

Anyway, Mum and Dad delivered the food upstairs to quite intimidating whoops of joy and then we sat down to eat.

Once sated I invited Santa back to sit in the manger to deliver the presents. Everyone was way more content with their gifts than with Frankincense and Myrrh. Especially me with a ladies night kit. Thanks Alex. If only it had some bio oil for the scars of last time...

A special present

2011-01-02T14:00:00.000Z

On Christmas Eve a star led lots of friends bearing gifts right down Mulberry bag drive and into Dave's arms.

We feasted on dressed crab, crab legs, langoustines, chickpea curry, mango salad, Georgian cheese bread (if anyone wanting recipe ideas still reads wyduas then look this bread up), chorizo, and smoked salmon. Plus two cakes. A lime cheesecake a la little Annie and a very melty pile of chocolate from me. Hadn't realised that the chocolate icing would be too hot to take the addition of a layer of chocolate orange. But all members of the Watson family and affiliates agreed that the melty two tone chocolate was very Dali.

I had a riot with Grampa. Dave suggested we become pen friends but we all remember how Bob's attempt at that turned out.. Didn't want to put Grampa through the pain. (To be fair to Bob she couldn't read her elderly pen friend's 1920s scrawl. We can only understand type these days).

So we had a lovely meal and sociale. And it wasn't just Dave who got all the presents. I bagged some Everest sponsorship, a new Grampa, and a potential date with a farmer with an artificial limb post rotary accident. If one night can bring all that, who knows what 2011 will bring?

Cosé with the rosé

2010-12-22T17:22:00.007Z

It was the Monks Kirby office party today. After I'd finished all my work I nipped into the loos to glitz and glam. Lexie and Sam also had lots of grooming to do before they were ready so I thought there was probs time for a few bubbles before we reconvened in the cottage foyer.

After a few too many glasses of fizzy pink the party really got into full swing.. Lexie started telling us inappropriate stories about chasing rabbits and that time he dismembered a vole.

Luckily our manager C had made us a nice vegetable lasagne to soak it all up.

I whip my hair back and forth

2010-12-20T19:57:00.005Z

So there I was at Roast and Sashy's housewarming fending off teasing like snowballs when suddenly I felt a little drip drip drip.. No, it was not the effect of some tall dark stranger bearing down on me. Chance would be a fine thing with all those gays around. Anyway, it was hot red liquid dripping stickily down my shoulders.

OOh you're bleeding, everyone screamed, and recoiled. Oh no, it's just mulled wine. Silly me had been leaning so intently into Chris' conversation that my hair had sponged up my glass.

Luckily/unluckily, Juliet was around to lick the entire glass off me.

The real silver lining was that the dried mulled wine made my hair curl up at the ends really nicely. Styled itself almost better than that time Peaches threw a Bacardi Breezer over my head at Juice.

Like a bowlful of jelly

2010-12-16T12:54:00.005Z

Now I'm not getting my quivers from my many dates I have to seek out nervous satisfaction in the production of other delicate scenarios. Wibbly wobbly jelly seems to emulate the feeling in my long, perfectly calved, suggestive long sock clad legs, on a first meeting.

Dave and I have discussed at length this concept of 'exquisite torture.' I won't go into details as you're either highly strung enough to feel it or you're not. The latter should go off and eat some cucumber or cold cuts of meat. Emos, please pull up a chair and learn how to make mulled wine jelly with vanilla cream.

Firstly imagine me sitting in a bath of anxiety (quite like the one I have to soak the 12 leaves of gelatin in for four minutes) getting abuse from all directions about how I won't be able to do it. But someone will want to go out with me eventually! Oh sorry, that's dating. I mean, of course I can handle gelatin this year without it seeming like there's chunks of meat in the white choc cheesecake.

Anyway, after wetting the gelatin you soak it in a pan of hot red wine, orange juice, cinnamon, cloves, and lemon peel. Strain, pour into your vessels, set for four hours. When you're ready whip up some cream with vanilla essence and caster sugar, and top.

MMMm. My guests were a little nervous given my past pudding history (broccoli mince pies? Chocolate batter scraped off mine and Roast's chests? Anyone?) but after swallowing their trepidation they gobbled up the jellies.

Verdict: They were a little booozy but slunk down everyone's throats a treat. Unlike the mince pies I'd accidentally made with salty bread flour. Can't have it all.

First class ticket to Crimewatch

2010-12-15T20:05:00.003Z

When I arrived at Euston on Thursday I was directed with Rhapsody to the bike coach at the very front of a long long train. On arrival at the front it became quickly clear that this was not the bike coach but first class. Unforch I only had an insufficient four minutes to jet back up to the top so was stranded in first class, branded..a fool (imagine Danny Zuko singing that and you'll summon up the desolation I was feeling).

As I was wailing on the phone to Mum about the prospect of three hours propping Rhapsody up against the first class toilets an extremely drunk wobbly man bore down on me. "Sorry Mum, I have to go, this drunk man wants to talk to me". I imagine this gave her the same queasy feeling as when Ro said to her on the phone, "aaargghh i've got to go, we're going to crash into another car" and then her phone sailed into the air and she forgot to ring Mum back until later.

The drunk man thought I was excellent sport so gave me a spare first class ticket so I could sit down and talk to him the whole way. On the plus side I got to sit in a very roomy comfortable area with the dutiful attentions of the train manager to my every whim, two free duck wraps, two free beers, a free tea, two free handmade cranberry and carrot cakes, free crisps, and a free bottle of wine. But the latter was actually purchased for me by my drunk crusader as the complimentary wine had been officially ceased due to his rowdiness. On the down side I had to spend three hours counselling him about his alcoholism and repeating my name every five minutes.

LGBTV night.

2010-12-14T20:04:00.002Z

I think this will make most hot blooded carnivores gasp but I chose a Christmas dinner to invite round 8 vegelezzas to eat me out (of house and home). Well, I do believe in equality for all.

After wracking my brains for days over what to cook for them I got C to give me some tips. She loves all that. She suggested the rich mushroom pie Nige had posted in a recent Observer magazine. The filling is four types of mushroom and spinach. Thought they'd gobble that straight up so better do some sides of roast carrots, parsnips, potatoes, sprouts, and sticky red wine red cabbage. Which by the way was so good that Harrie exclaimed that it was the first time she'd ever liked cabbage.

So, let me tell the story of this special night.

I raced home from work for six and immediately set to work peeling and chopping. I breathed a sigh of relief when Sparkles arrived soon after, a sigh which was justified when he took over and did most of my work. He does a really nice line in thinly sliced parnsip chippies, and sprouts cut just like his Mum does them. Then Dani and Kate were welcomed into doing the pastry for the pie. Shortly after Harrie and Lizzy B were lovingly ushered in and set to work making mince pies, whilst Eleanor brewed the mulled wine. Nice to make cooking seem like a party game don't you think?

After a merry table time we tumbled upstairs to the sitting room to play Cranium amid a tangle of low hanging shiny streamers. They were a charitable donation from Blue Granny's house, along with super large cinnamon sticks and star anise given to Granny by her Thai cleaner. Grampa had complained about all three so they were passed on to the needy.

Then I chucked them all out into the night and in a cloud of happiness went to bed.

The End.

"Camel is very (tucked) in"

2010-12-08T19:07:00.004Z

Being one with an eye for the latest trends I was pleased to purchase a camel coloured high waisted knitted pair of shorts the other day. Imagine my dismay then when I shimmied in and they shimmied up! They were very snug..

However, I was glad that I was channelling camel toe when I had to use all the liquid reserves in my hump to stay hydrated until 10pm when dinner was finally served! I think anyone else would have fallen at the wayside but camels can withstand a massive amount of dehydration which allow them to survive not only between watering holes, but sometimes between seasons!

Alex's chicken and vegetable soup was certainly worth the wait. I sent the shorts back, but not my dinner.

If you want the recipe ask him. xxxxxxxx

The fountain of falafel

2010-11-25T11:18:00.001Z

After a day of wailing and failing at work I really needed a good soak.
Decided to take bath time to the next level by visiting the thermal spa with Jen.

We shimmied in bedecked in towelling robes and gasped in wonder at the rows of relaxation to be discovered. One room contained vessels of cucumber water and lemon water, free apples, herbal tea, and sun loungers. Another passage revealed a feast of wet heat with a eucalyptus, and a lemon infused steam. Dizzied from that we plunged into the ice pool and I nearly cried because I couldn't clamber out. Jen had to wrench me out before I got too Captain Oates.

Ready for a hot pot we discovered a wooden sauna, and if that wasn't enough a chain of hot stone rooms (Tepidarium Warm room - Caldarium Hot room - Laconium Hottest room,
for those Turks in the know).

When I was ready for some different weather I tried the Monsoon Showers. These wreaked on me the full year of seasons, from warm tropical downpour, to cool water, to fine Scotch mist. Then we scooped up ice flakes from the ice fountain and lay on the Hammam, rubbing the ice into our skin to tingle on. OOOhh. Best bath time ever.

Positively glowing we swept home via some falafel.

Run salmon run

2010-11-22T10:26:00.000Z

Wanted to recreate Cranston tonight so I scattered some silverfish in the toilet, a mouse by my bed, shut myself in my room gently weeping whilst the tv blared football in the lounge, and most importantly invited Sashy, and the boys round. Apart from Dashy who was probably at a gig.

Symbolically this felt like the salmon racing back home to the right part of the river (but to eat not spawn) so it was only right that I make smoked salmon spaghetti.

Alex was home too so it was as if it was 2008 and he was staying at mine whilst attending a conference in London . Apart from a my house in which he owns most of the furniture..

Very unlike me I was a terrible host and nearly missed my own dinner party as I was off flurrying about upstream.

Breathless and dirty I just managed to scoop together some dinner with not too much spaghetti overboard, and even created a little something something for Roast.

Jim posted Roast's dinner (baked beans on spaghetti) on facebook and got a barrage of derision but I think if you'd tasted it yourself you'd agree with Alessandra Smith.

When you belieber in me

2010-11-21T11:20:00.004Z

When I stumbled into my bedroom post sleep in the other day I almost melted into a puddle on the floor at the heartwarming sight of a cake bag. From none other than Justin Bieber. I think he wanted to cheer me up after I had to work the whole weekend. But at least I only have seven people screaming at me in my line of work, he has millions of fans to look after. I really should have flown it straight back to him.

I'm glad I live with Alex and his celeb acquaintances. When I lived with Dashy he was forever taunting me that he'd met RPatz and that RPatz said he thought my vegelez lasagne was disgusting.

Selfish as I am, I ate the whole thing myself. It was like a pillow of soft apple and feathery crumble. And now my actual pillow is made of apple smears and crumbs.

Sausage and the city

2010-11-21T10:34:00.004Z

Alex and I were on the bus home on Thursday evening and he turned to me and exclaimed, 'We should have sausage and mash with four sausages each!' Oh yes please. I needed some spongy food to catch the drips coming from my rain soaked body. We went home and I said I'd go upstairs to change, something which conveniently took up all of the prep time.
By the time I was clean (do you know where I work?) and dry, a steaming plate of 4 sausages, mash, and onion and mustard gravy was presented infront of me.

Then we went upstairs to our nightly ritual. Four episodes of SATC. Jess came home and noticed we were sitting in exactly the same sofa postion, watching exactly the same thing, and even wearing the same clothes as the previous nights. When you like wearing a red and white striped sweater with red tartan trousers it's quite obvious.

We also had some week old lemon tart. The pastry tasted of fridge so I just copied Samantha and licked it out.

Fishcakes

2010-11-14T20:43:00.004Z

My sister and her boyfriend tried to make a chocolate cake for my Granny at the weekend. They mixed in the unsalted butter, dark chocolate, egg yolks, icing sugar and whisked peaks of egg to make a silky batter. So I heard. They then poured it into a greased tin (well two actually- one for Granny and a mini one for them to eat whilst they watched tv), put it into the oven for thirty minutes and waited until it was cooked. It's done when it's slightly cracked on the top and if you slide a knife in you can see it's a bit gooey in the middle.

Leaving Granny's to cool (on a rack? I doubt they have one), they scooped up the mini pud and two spoons to go and nestle down with their new favourite programme 'Misfits'. Ro recommends it to me as the best thing she's ever seen, but since she last said that about 'Kung Fu Panda' I'm not sure I trust her taste.*

Imagine their poor little screwed up faces of disgust when their beautiful chocolate cake tasted of FISH! They claim that the batter tasted a dream pre oven so they couldn't think what had gone wrong.

Only later did Bainsey recall that they had last used that particular cake tin for cooking fish and probably (definitely) hadn't washed it out.

Don't spend too much time reading that last sentence. It won't make sense to most cooks.

Seeing as I enjoyed that story so much Ro fed me another.. A few weekends previous they'd made apple pie together. And do you know, it tasted of cheese when there wasn't any cheese in the pastry. They couldn't figure that culinary mystery out but I think what had happened was that they'd killed all their tastebuds with bacardi breezers the night before.

* Actually I would like to see Misfits but I'm afraid my life is just too full of Six Feet Under right now to slide into something new.

A SMASHing meal

2010-11-12T22:45:00.005Z

I'm going to give you a little history lesson today.

Once upon a time... the vegelez options were notoriously poor. On one such occasion Dani Bristol went to Canada (I think) where the assembled company were served sausage and smash for dinner. She of course couldn't let that sausage pass her pure organic lips so had to suffer through the vegetarian option of just smash!

Thankfully times have changed and not only do we get real potato mash these days but

there are some very nice vegelez alternatives.

I went round the other day and was treated to a steaming bowl of fake

sausages (very nice), mash potato and thick onion gravy. Just what my shivering body craved.

For pudding we got another winter warmer of crumble with hot custard. Then Dani and

I kicked Sparkles out the room and snuggled up in bed to knit tea cosies and watch Despies. That sort of night should be

prescribed instead of winter fuel allowance!

What a banger of a night!

2010-11-12T22:34:00.006Z

Really double dipped bonfire night with another sparkler at Dave's last Friday. Although it was more of a tease as we were too slow and were greeted at the entrance to the park by hoards of people leaving. To set our spirits back alight we decided to take our thermos' of mulled wine and wait for Dashy to arrive whilst sitting on a dumpster in a nearby underground car park. I desperately hoped that one of the Mum's and Dad's would pick me up and take me home but they left us too it.

Once Dashy had collected us we toddled back to Dave's for vegetable soup and a sausage reception. Ever so nice. Inspired by Dave I made myself potato soup today. Get my potato fix quicker in liquid form. Like injecting heroin, for carbs.

After the soup we gobbled up hot dogs with ketchup and mustard. Although I don't have the latter as it makes me cough.

Firecrotch

2010-11-12T22:20:00.004Z

Dave and I were somehow tempted into visiting Bob on bonfire weekend to see just how Croyden does it! They don't do transport that's for sure. One bike accident, several bruises, a missed train connection, a half an hour wait, and a tram track later we flung ourself over the doormat.

The hungry travellers gratefully received a feast of butternut squash, chickpea, and mash potato bake. She'd also added chorizo just for fun. Which it was. David Haddrell and I

had a bit of a fight over who got the left over mash potato but I won as I swiped it when he wasn't looking. Maybe all that sitting on trains has dulled his reactions. I'm used to fighting over food with obese psychotics so I'm quite sparky these days.

Pudding was homemade chocolate brownies with vanilla ice cream. We were ever so treated. Thanks Boob.

Then we went out to play with sparklers in the garden. Dave threw his and I merrily followed suit until I realised I'd thrown one of mine into a bush. Croyden is such a bad influence!

I spy pie season

2010-11-12T22:07:00.004Z

I'm so hungover I can barely type but I have to water my blog drought so here are some pictures of pies.

The first is a chicken pie from when I wined and dined Bobbeh. I used leftover chicken from a roast. I softened up a bed of leeks and mushrooms in butter and tucked them into the pastry dish, laid the chicken on, poured in a thick creamy white sauce and buttoned down the hatches with the pastry lid. It was ever so dreamy. Seeped everywhere. I like that effect. The other day I made my first poached egg. It was so perfect that when I bit into the english muffin the egg inside dripped all down my hand.

The second Alex made for Chaz for her October birthday. We like labelling our pies with the

recipient's name. He used butternut squash, pumpkin seeds, condensed milk and some other stuff.

Harvest FEASTival

2010-10-10T15:55:00.000+01:00

Considering I'd gathered so many conkers the other day I thought I'd better gather up my people and celebrate our bounty. We bounded into Autumn with a feast of warming foods. As I was on a sleep in come down I could begin prep at 3pm by making the dough for my tarte tatin and chilling it for two hours. I also thinly sliced six apples and left them swimming in a bowl of lemon juice and water so they didn't brown. I then went to soak myself in the bath with my new box set until it was time to properly get stuck in.

By the time Alex came home to make his thick onion gravy I was already covered in flour and egg making the batter for my toad in the hole. I think he wished he hadn't come home when I accidentally dropped the sausages into sizzling oil from a height and splashed him. Luckily the freckles on his hands camouflage the burn marks! When the sausages were golden I poured the batter in and slipped some sprigs of rosemary in for good measure.

That rose out of the oven to cheers of delight from our guests, accompanied by thick onion gravy, oozing baked beans, cheesy mash and a nod to spinach.
We all had a lovely time apart from when they hid from me between courses. Fine! I'll just eat all the tarte tatin myself.

The best bit was after my client saw my leftovers lunch the following day she requested I teach her the whole meal so I had the whole thing again for dinner. Ahh. Ever so heart warming.

Anish some more

2010-10-09T15:26:00.008+01:00

Went to Hyde park on Monday with Bobeh to see the Anish Kapoor sculptures and have a picnic.
We ate spinach and pea frittata, chocolate cake, raisins, and a nibble of pork pie no longer lying around Bob's fridge. We watched ourselves in Anish's great round mirror whilst eating. Did you know that beautiful people look in the mirror more often than ugly people? Obviously true that lunch.

After some playing in trees we scooped up all the conkers we could find. Later on when I was at dinner in Pizza Express and they all fell out of my bag onto the floor I regretted it, but at the time it was loads of fun.

Oh we also went to the red cafe and had tea and a macaroon. I'm in this photo but you can't see me as I'm dressed all in red.

xxx

Bee troot to yourself

2010-09-29T14:17:00.003+01:00

I've been going out a bit too much lately. Not very me you'll agree. Thought I'd rectify this uncomfortable situation with a home cooked dinner with my two best vegelezzes, Dani and Becky. I've got stacks of beetroot from Blue Granny so decided to build them into a risotto, fortified with red wine. Give us a bit of strength in these new cold days and also colour compliment the veg. Ideally at the end of the meal we'll all have silly purple mouths so won't be able to leave the house anyway!
I roasted the beetroot with some garlic too for extra protection from the cold cold night. Made the risotto, chucked the beetroot and garlic in towards the end with mascarpone and parmesan.
Haven't bothered putting a dish close up in as I've started to think no one looks at this, let alone recreates my dazzling dinner ideas.

Ladies fright

2010-09-26T22:30:00.003+01:00

I had been dizzy with anticipation about ladies night all week. Prepped as far ahead as Monday by firing up my drive time anthems cd in the laptop and sticking my 'real prosecco not cava' in to chill.

Bob and Chaz giggled over about 7 and we poured out some easy bolognaise and spaghetti. We were a bit giddy by serving time thanks to cocktails a la chaz. 'Do you think the spaghetti is done?' I asked. 'Well you know how you tell?' Bob whooped. And before I could say, 'No! We have house rules', the spaghetti was up on the ceiling. Well it did stick. And was done.

Left a bit as a momento. See, this is a real food blog. Cooking tips as well as silly stories.

It's kind of a blur after that unforch but needless to say I was in bed by midnight, ever so ill. Woke up with a black eye, a deep cut under my eye, and Bob and Chaz full of stories of havoc. Never knew I could pack so much into one half hour out of the house. Won't need to leave again for weeks. xxxx

Moet floaway

2010-09-24T17:34:00.003+01:00

Was swept along on a sea of excitement and champagne the other day when a sedate afternoon of culture with Dave burst into quite the event. We'd planned to play a new game I invented called 'La Pétillante'. 'She who sparkles!' We based it on the new carbonated water fountain in Paris. What you do is stand on the bridge spitting fizzy water at each other, and passers by. Whoosh Swhoosh. 'What?! We thought you wanted more culture?', we'd cry at them.

However, luckily for south bank francophobes we quite forgot as we were distracted by the idea of dinner at Dave's in the new resort town of Rotherhithe village. Luckily for us, Chris had put the moet on ice so we could still get fizzy wizzy.

Dave, with the help of Sue the sou (that's me) whipped up a frenzy of chorizo sausages on a bed of spinach, drizzled with a

medley of peppers and onions, and served with a side helping of sweet potato chips. Roast and Marty helped us gobble this up.

Drinks were harvey head bangers as expertly mixed by Chris. Pudding was meant to be smashed banoffee but we forgot to buy bananas. Well, toffee and cream always slips down a treat.

Oh what a sparkling party!

p.s the sweet potato chips were definitely worth commenting on. Slice them up and stick them in the oven for a while. They shrink right down to become sticky chippies.

Bob and Franny's big night out.

2010-09-19T11:25:00.008+01:00

Bob had seen on the tube some posters about some free stuff night at the shops so she scooped me up and via Wags (we had a voucher but chanced paying with our special Edward Cullen £50 anyway) we hit the big time.
First we stalked round GAP sniffing out the free beer. For a while all we got was some swanky toasted sandwiches. We'll rub them into the clothes if you don't give us beer now!

After draping ourselves in cashmere and playing soft soft soft gangs we tracked down the bar and having drained GAP we headed upwards to Selfridges.

Selfridges yielded a perfumed fan, the opportunity to chase Lily Allen round with a camera (don't lose the baby again, Lils!), two mojitos, seeing Sashy at work with the diamonds, and a free photo shoot with wind machine! Bob kept pushing me off the photo booth seat with her hair though. Cheered up by 'acquiring' two not so strictly free cupcakes from the food hall. 'Shall we give one to Sashy? Erm maybe not. Think her work might mind.

We giggled all the way home. Weeeeeeeee.

Home and Away

2010-09-18T23:13:00.000+01:00

Let me be the one that you tattoo (noo Jim, leave Marky alone), the one you can rely on. Home and away. Closer each dayyy.
Well obvs we all are that close, but this song was sung not for us but to illustrate dinner tonight. In honour of Vietnam core having dinner togevs we ate ken hom's stir fried salmon with spinach and rice. Loads of spices and grated ginger, lemon and special oil stuff in it. And for pudding Blue Granny's apple pie with cream. See, home food AND away food. And wine with a great dog blog label.

It got really romantic whilst I was cooking as the power went off! Luckily gays love tea lights and we could empty out Alex's drawer full onto every surface. But calamity struck when mid stirfrying sliced ginger, etc, I thought ooh it's quite a lot brighter than it was over there.
The tupperware was on fire! The boys pulled together and it was out in no time, although it was really my hot brow which needed dousing after that furore. Sponge me, sponge me!

Many disapproving looks later I'd pulled a dinner out the wok and we sat down to eat. It was oh so moreish. Just like being back with our Vietnam Mother. "Dinnehh!"
We touched down to earth with comely portions of apple pie and cream. Aahh. Home sweet home and no jet lag.

P.s. That's not Bob to your left, it's my new housemate Jess. Bob is actually in Montenegro if you want to know. Hope they don't remember she's on Bosnia's most wanted list. We should all send her our prayers. Although actually now I think of it she didn't even come to Vietnam so doesn't count.

The evening ended really closer each day as Marky and I snuggled up to each other in bed. Aah.

xxxxxxx

The last supper

2010-09-17T22:28:00.000+01:00

Ah, Becky, bolognaise and I have been through a lot at Cranston.

From tears of heartbreak, stomachache, unemployment, destitution and that time when Dashy tried to touch her up, to the joy of most things (we're very bouncy people), we've had it all over a steaming bowl of spaghetti and quorn ragu in Povvo Towers.

Was only fitting that she came round for one last time. And that we make it a bit better than usual.Wasn't really watching what she did do as whilst she was cooking I was chatting but if you want her methods I can pass on her number.
Anyway, it was a jewel in the dust of packing. As Brian on Celebrity Big Brother winners Come dine with me would say, it produced, 'the watering of the mouth.'

Pillow talk

2010-09-06T22:39:00.000+01:00

Couldn't sleep the other night night so succumbed to my Nigella transformation by tiptoeing into the kitchen and sticking my fingers into the gooey mess that was the quadruple chocolate loaf saved for the special 'last london family at the flat' night supper. Ooooohhh.

Don't look at me like that! I made it. And I had a bath before bed so my fingers were squeaky clean.

Actually, the real reason I was up was because I was awoken by a mouse at 2.am rustling by my bed.

Probably was Hunca Munca from Beatrix Potter come to tell me to tidy up. Was very scared but after having a calming snack and a glass of milk I boxed my toes in with protective cushions and managed to return to sleep

After all that night time exertion I had to rest well in the morning with a double dose of Mad Men in bed before skipping off to meet my darling Lizzy B for lunch on the canal.

We shared some cannellini bean mixture on bruschetta, some sort of bean stew, tea for two and blueberry pie. Every mouthful was heavenly, as was the company.

Night night little lambs, don't let the mice bite xxxxxx

Liquid lunch

2010-09-04T23:23:00.004+01:00

I was ever so tired when I got home from work so after a nap and a tea fetched by Dashy I thought I'd combine my two favourite past times. Bathing and eating. I'm really into Nigella's naughty quick meals at the moment. Basically, you add fat to fat, with a vegetable mushed in for health points.

I melted a large block of soft french cheese, warmed it in the pan with

spinach and one chopped tomato and used the resulting soft gooey liquid to swell up some cous cous. Armed with my plate of calor-veg I ran

a bath, bubbled it up, and settle down to watch mad men.

I have to say it did start to taste like I was eating bath water, but washing up was a breeze!

Lush bath bombs are better than Fairy any day!

xxxxxx

From nose to wail

2010-09-02T22:28:00.014+01:00

Some people like to go out on hot dates to hot restaurants, I like to sit in and weep about how I don't like change. But just like Fergus, I'm going to make sure I use up every last shred of my Cranston estate experience. Povo offal to some, but heart and lungs to us. And using up the kidneys too with how much we've drunk tonight.

Marky sent out the memo early this week that we were going to share a last supper at the flat. Apart from Jim (but what's new? Joke! Don't worry the chance of him reading this is as low as him changing his sheets), all the regulars gathered in the 'sitting room' to be served up a feast of goats cheese stuffed chicken breasts with roasted vegetables and boiled new potatoes.

Was an absolutely dream. When I went to fetch the quadruple chocolate loaf cake for pudding I have to confess I ran my finger over all the bowls and utensils and then stuck them in my mouth.

After that it all got a little shady. Last thing I remember was sobbing in the bath whilst eight people showered the strawberry sauce off me.

Would you like a Fran with your sauce?

I just can't function without a good luncheon

2010-09-02T21:27:00.007+01:00

Roast rolled round this afternoon for a late lunch and cuddle. I'd previously tempted him round with the offer of spaghetti hoops and grated cheese on toast but flicking through Nigella Legspress our greedy eyes were caught by something entitled: Back from the bar snack. A gooey mixture of potatoes, peas, bacon, eggs and cheddar cheese.

I think if you actually ate it in the middle of the night as she suggests you'd put on a stone then and there but it meant we could have fun sprawling on the bed in our gaping silk robes, flicking the light on along with our hair, and pawing down the stairs for a pretend midnight stuffing.

Oh we were very Nigella and started hoovering up our snacky cheese straws when at the till. Think the cashier blushed!

We began watching Annie Hall but half succumbed to sleep, so weighed down with potatoes and cheese as we were. Mmm what would wake us up?

I know! A quadruple chocolate loaf cake! We accidentally got a bit worked up by Nigella bandying about words like 'drenched', 'glory', and 'melting squidginess falling darkly onto my white sheets' and the chocolate batter got everywhere!

Surprised we didn't end up on the floor in a buttery mess!

After picking the chest hair out the batter we slid it into a loaf tin and into to oven for 45 mins.

All that was left was to enjoy a slice with a cup of tea, and to wash my clothes!

Roast practically needed a 'obesicycle' to get home after that marathon meal, and I need someone to lick the last few splodges from under my chin. I just can't reach and I promise it's tasty!

xxxxx

In a spin (ach)

2010-09-02T20:51:00.010+01:00

What mischief are you hot young things up tonight then?My boss asked. Oh dear. A Wednesday night with nothing to do! I'm letting Shoreditch down..

Luckily I was saved by Dani Bristol who threw me a line requesting dins n cins.

First though, I set about solving the quandary of what to do with my hoard of massive spinach leaves. I'd only just exhausted my last reserve of leaves and inspiration. I had some time on my hands after work so I investigated some options..

Rakish hat? Coy fan for this steamy weather?

Ah sensible Dani came to my rescue with the idea of spinach and

ricotto baked wraps with a soft tomato mix melted onto the top with cheese. As usual somehow she did most of the cooking. It just seems to naturally happen if I hang around looking useless enough.

Then we trotted off happily to the Vue to see 'The Switch'. And no, i'm not embarassed.

xxxx

Caramel here for a short(cake) time

2010-08-27T17:43:00.006+01:00

Am playing a fun game with myself seeing how many of the pack of 12 mini Thorntons caramel shortcakes I can manage to leave to take to Chaz's for dinner tonight. Well fun for me, not them. Three are down so far.. An hour to go. I usually have so little self restraint that the phrase 'Doing a Fran' means acquiring a present of food for someone but accidentally eating it before it gets to them! I'm always terribly sorry.

Later on.. Luckily Chaz is more thoughtful than me and cooked us up this splendid dinner for gurls night. Whoopsy I forgot to capture anything but the bleak remains. You can only imagine how delish it looked. Once upon a time it was chicken fajitas with tomatoes, lettuce, peppers and sour cream.

Too full to move we couldn't bear pudding. Chazzy deserved it throwing over her anyway for her naughty behaviour with white linen-ed Pasha!

Mums on Tour.2

2010-08-27T17:36:00.004+01:00

I've been on so many holidays this summer I almost forgot to drown you with Cornish food info. They eat (clockwise from top) fish and chips, lashings of chocolate gateau, tent bits and bobs, and cornish pasties and ice cream.

Ignore the apples. Real Cornish and I don't touch them. We were all about the Gold bars.

p.s We found a mermaid

Pinot Yoga

2010-08-27T17:32:00.001+01:00

It occurred to me that after eating all this food some of you may need some tips for exercise enjoyment. This is from the sweet lips of our very own Bobbeh.

1) Stretch up!

2) Stretch back.Wink to Daddy (in the tent next to us)

3)Down and take a sip of your wine.

4) Fling your hair up sexily.

5) Repeat with more wine.

In no time at all you should be toned up for Summer!

ST I spy food.

2010-08-22T10:16:00.000+01:00

Luckily for me one of the bonuses of mostly staying inside the house is that I'm a lot less likely to go out and hook anything like this:

Oh no, these were dressed Norfolk crabs, not the other type. I did enjoy forking this up.

xxxx