I am writing this from the relative comfort (and near tropical warmth) of Digby Crescent. The journey back was very, very long and rather odd - but we made it. Thinking back to my last post, I wrote to you in the midst of Monday night's Mojito madness... a delightful affair, where booze can be drunk for mere pennies and we got a street kebab for 36p afterwards.
A moment on the street kebabs, if you will indulge me. The purveyors of the kebab stalls stand by their griddles, which they wheel about the city, and laid out in front of their fiery grills are displays of tofu, mushrooms, meat, fish and veg - all on separate sticks. You pick out as many stick's as you like, any combination, and he cooks them in front of you and hands the sticks over. You eat them. Each stick is around 10p and is massive. I chose tofu, green beans and aubergines fricking lovely!
On Tuesday and Wednesday, Ricky and I mainly did last minute sightseeing and packing - we also went on present buying duty - which involved a trip to a massive supermarket, buying up all of the toot I could! Today I laid out my toot on the kitchen table - very satisfied. Managed to get a lot of 'Pleasant Goat' merchandise, not difficult, as China is absolutely saturated by this dubious cartoon goat, whose grinning, sinister face greets me at practically every turn... Much New Year decorations were bought home too - remember, it will be the year of the rabbit! So put something rabbity up for good luck.
The journey home began ominously. Having decided to take everyone's advice and try to relax a bit more when it comes to travelling, I did not push, as I usually do, to get to the airport a bit earlier than needed. I say a bit earlier, what I mean is, if you need to get there two hours before check-in, why not make it three, or even four? Better to be safe than sorry I say. Oh yes.
Anyway, mentalism and anxiety disorders aside, we didn't go for the expensive option of taxi to Pudong airport, but decided on the tube instead. Unfortunately, the tube stops running at 9pm. Not the whole network of tubes - just the one that takes you to Pudong airport. Having gone 10 stops before reaching the end of the service (approximately 30km) from the airport, we were chucked out, into the cold - at the mercy of more illegal taxi touts than I have ever seen in one place in my life. Including Sainsbury's car park on a Saturday afternoon.
Without exaggeration - this was rather scary. People started grabbing at our luggage and trying to load it into their cars. A swarm of poor buggers fighting over us, and the other sad gits who were also chucked off the tube on their way to the airport, ran from group to group attempting to undercut the person in front of them. We only had 50 yuan on us (fiver) and there were no banks. Also we were loathe to get out more money for a charge in a currency that we wouldn't need again. As soon as we mentioned our 50 yuan the crowd began laughing. A bit like a nightmare, where you realise that you're naked from the waist down meeting your in-laws for the first time, or that you can't recite the five times table. After the laughter came the outrage - then the spitting. Oh the spitting. Not at us you understand, just in general. Never had China seemed so hostile.
We hailed the only legitimate taxi we saw and got in. Letting it take us to the airport, we watched the meter creep towards 50 with dread. When it passed 50, and indeed, carried on to over 100, we started to panic a bit. On arrival, we begged the bemused then angry driver to wait for us to get cash. He kept me, and our luggage as collateral. Rick got back, with more money and we gave him a fat tip, so he drove off happy I think.
We joined the a big queue for the first leg of our flight to Doha, Qatar, thanking our lucky stars that we had made it in time. The first flight was good - my genuine joy that we had made the flight, coupled with exhaustion, meant that I cared little during takeoff or indeed, during the flight and hardly batted an eyelid during turbulence over nearly all of Pakistan. In fact, I became quite keen on the in flight tool that lets you see the route of the plane and where it is in real time... felt really privileged and odd to be travelling over half of the world.
When we got to Doha, even though we didn't leave the airport, it felt like a different world. For a start, China is FREEZING. Doha is bloody boiling. Also, there are hardly any women anywhere. If you do see a female, she is swathed from head to toe in a burkha. All of the men scowled at me to show their disapproval and some of them openly made comments on my hair and appearance in general. Rich, tanned, tourists wearing all of the priciest labels shared our second flight from dusty Doha.
I watched the Karate Kid, and felt rather content. Getting back to Gatwick, back to the grey and the comforting rain, I had missed it a little I must admit.
Now I'm back, and looking forward to seeing you all. I hope you will like my new hair, styled over a 5-hour period by four anxious hairdressers, who clearly didn't not relish the challenge of doing something with my waist-length frizzy bleached birds nest of hair. It really doesn't look much different, except the colour and that they cut off quite a bit more than I thought they would. I basically look a bit like Lady Gaga's mental auntie. Or something.
Anyway, that's enough for now. Until we next meet, adieu and thanks for reading!
Saturday, 15 January 2011
I last wrote to you on the eve of our trip Hangzhou, the idyllic lakeside city 200 km from Shanghai.
We went on the super fast bullet trains that travel at 350 km per hour and got there within 40 mins. It was so fast! I imagine this will be the closest that I get to moon rocket travel. The best thing, is that a return ticket on this super fast beast costs only 8 pounds. In fact Anna and Nik are travelling the entire length of the country on a sleeper train cabin in a few weeks, a journey of nearly 24 hours for less than 30 pounds return.
I can't even get back to Cambridge to see you lot for that price!
It is craziness. The train terminals are the size of airports - seriously big, with TVs everywhere and security checks and x-ray machines through each an every gate. It kind of makes you feel safer, but also increases the the tension. It's a weird feeling.
Hangzhou was so, so beautiful. Our hostel cost 4 pounds per head it was heavenly (and a lot warmer and comfier than we are used to!) The hostel also did 30p beer and pool, and v cheap meals which we took advantage of. Apart from something called 'meat floss' which appears ontop of the bread. Meat floss. The horror!
I don't know where to begin in describing the wonder and breathtaking lushness of Hangzhou. so I'm don't think I'll try. All I can say is that it is one of China's most beautiful cities, because of the vast lake and islands that the city surrounds. We went on traditional boats from island to island, and took a bus into the hilly and rather mountainous countryside. It really was breathtaking.
After all of our sightseeing we went into town for some traditional nosh - in particular, something called 'beggars chicken'. Unfortunately, I made myself sick by looking at the tanks of live animals in all of the restaurants, which then ended up on Nik and Ricks plates. Not good times.
We got the super fast train home on the Saturday, then went out to a couple of clubs - one that Nik djs at regularly called Dada and one that blew my mind - called 88.
I have never seen anything like this place in all my life. Imagine an incredibly ornate underground club, covered in gold and filled with beds and chaise lounges. There are male and female hosts and hostesses who wear provocative uniforms and dance around whilst waiting on the large tables of Chinese youth who have just ordered massive bottles of whisky or Champagne and are dancing to booming R&B, and obviously fancy themselves as gangsters.
I absolutely loathed it! Though it was an amazing sight. We didn't stay, as the vision of a PVC clad host of indeterminate age (14? 44??) Dancing for us whilst simultaneously shouting 'bottle Hennessy only!' And pointing to the 880rmb price tag, whilst refusing to serve us a beer was too odd. You exit via a large illuminated glitter tunnel, out into the cold, where the street kebab seller and the man with a monkey on a lead lurk for your post-club pleasure... Luckily we sent onto club Dada, a vast improvement. Notible that evening for the tallest couple I've ever seen, a man and woman over 7 foot each. Rick felt like a dwarf.
On Sunday we went to the equivalent of Camden market - there wasn't much there, but there is a good second-hand culture, and bartering is fun. I've surprised myself by being quite good at bluffing and arguing, even though no one understands me. Everyone thinks we're Russian for some reason and shout 'Spacibe!!' Pleadingly at us all the time. After that rick and I picked up our glad rags from the tailors - they are really beautiful. If only I'd thought properly, we could have done the bridesmaids dresses for Melon!
I had a horrible dream last night that I was missing the wedding and was trying to get back to Cambs, but no one could understand me. Woke up all frazzled! Think it means that I am missing you all too much.
Anyway. That brings us to today - a very weird day that involved me getting a cut and colour at the salon that Anna was raving about. I won't say anymore - I'll let you be the judges. I will say that every time I look in the mirror I get a shock...
Hmmm.
At the moment we are at monday mojito madness - mojitos for 10p! I am enjoying the lychee flavoured one, and soon well be going for some 10p street food. A good deal for very little!
We went on the super fast bullet trains that travel at 350 km per hour and got there within 40 mins. It was so fast! I imagine this will be the closest that I get to moon rocket travel. The best thing, is that a return ticket on this super fast beast costs only 8 pounds. In fact Anna and Nik are travelling the entire length of the country on a sleeper train cabin in a few weeks, a journey of nearly 24 hours for less than 30 pounds return.
I can't even get back to Cambridge to see you lot for that price!
It is craziness. The train terminals are the size of airports - seriously big, with TVs everywhere and security checks and x-ray machines through each an every gate. It kind of makes you feel safer, but also increases the the tension. It's a weird feeling.
Hangzhou was so, so beautiful. Our hostel cost 4 pounds per head it was heavenly (and a lot warmer and comfier than we are used to!) The hostel also did 30p beer and pool, and v cheap meals which we took advantage of. Apart from something called 'meat floss' which appears ontop of the bread. Meat floss. The horror!
I don't know where to begin in describing the wonder and breathtaking lushness of Hangzhou. so I'm don't think I'll try. All I can say is that it is one of China's most beautiful cities, because of the vast lake and islands that the city surrounds. We went on traditional boats from island to island, and took a bus into the hilly and rather mountainous countryside. It really was breathtaking.
After all of our sightseeing we went into town for some traditional nosh - in particular, something called 'beggars chicken'. Unfortunately, I made myself sick by looking at the tanks of live animals in all of the restaurants, which then ended up on Nik and Ricks plates. Not good times.
We got the super fast train home on the Saturday, then went out to a couple of clubs - one that Nik djs at regularly called Dada and one that blew my mind - called 88.
I have never seen anything like this place in all my life. Imagine an incredibly ornate underground club, covered in gold and filled with beds and chaise lounges. There are male and female hosts and hostesses who wear provocative uniforms and dance around whilst waiting on the large tables of Chinese youth who have just ordered massive bottles of whisky or Champagne and are dancing to booming R&B, and obviously fancy themselves as gangsters.
I absolutely loathed it! Though it was an amazing sight. We didn't stay, as the vision of a PVC clad host of indeterminate age (14? 44??) Dancing for us whilst simultaneously shouting 'bottle Hennessy only!' And pointing to the 880rmb price tag, whilst refusing to serve us a beer was too odd. You exit via a large illuminated glitter tunnel, out into the cold, where the street kebab seller and the man with a monkey on a lead lurk for your post-club pleasure... Luckily we sent onto club Dada, a vast improvement. Notible that evening for the tallest couple I've ever seen, a man and woman over 7 foot each. Rick felt like a dwarf.
On Sunday we went to the equivalent of Camden market - there wasn't much there, but there is a good second-hand culture, and bartering is fun. I've surprised myself by being quite good at bluffing and arguing, even though no one understands me. Everyone thinks we're Russian for some reason and shout 'Spacibe!!' Pleadingly at us all the time. After that rick and I picked up our glad rags from the tailors - they are really beautiful. If only I'd thought properly, we could have done the bridesmaids dresses for Melon!
I had a horrible dream last night that I was missing the wedding and was trying to get back to Cambs, but no one could understand me. Woke up all frazzled! Think it means that I am missing you all too much.
Anyway. That brings us to today - a very weird day that involved me getting a cut and colour at the salon that Anna was raving about. I won't say anymore - I'll let you be the judges. I will say that every time I look in the mirror I get a shock...
Hmmm.
At the moment we are at monday mojito madness - mojitos for 10p! I am enjoying the lychee flavoured one, and soon well be going for some 10p street food. A good deal for very little!
Today, after an early start, we wear at Peoples Square to see the Shanghai Bienalle exhibition at the museum of art - a bargain at 1 kuai for hours of lovely art viewings and films. Peoples Square was horrible though - not the square itself but the constant, unwavering attention from people trying to trick tourists. This sounds odd, but these scams are really common and no one let up on us the whole time - until we fled to the comfort of the metro station.
The most common thing we experienced was people asking us to take a picture of them - then asking you where you're from - chatting, and basically tricking you into something then escorting to a cash point. The most common method, is to make friends with a foreigner, take them to an 'amazing' chinese tea house, and then they find out that charge is about 100 pounds. Luckily, I had read all about these - and we didn't fall for any of it. We had non stop comments about out 'lovely' blonde hair and 'lovely' white skin - men and women from the scamming teams were targeting our vanity and laying it on thick with the complements in a vain attempt to get us to talk.
Once inside peoples square metro station - with no fewer than 20 different entrances and even more platforms - you are confronted with the biggest mall that you have ever seen - most of it underground. It would have taken all day to wander around it, but suffice to say, we found a Parisian style cafe with a 3 kuai set lunch and I had a manicure for 2 kuai - which was hilarious, as I'm not used to such pampering, and for 2 quid, though thought that I couldn't possibly get anything that would last longer than 5 mins, kept saying thanks and getting up to go! You really can get a lot of value for your money over here as a tourist... I am thinking about having some more treatments. Maybe botox? Yes, that sounds sensible.
We went to the insect, bird and fish market after this - the most unusual and amazing sight. Streets and streets of individual, live insects for sale of all different types. Crickets - used for cricket racing and fighting - a very popular pastime here, were being groomed and bathed by their stall owners, menageries of birds, singing and squawking for their lives - and more lucky goldfish than you can imagine.
At points the market was harrowing. The Chinese (generally speaking) put little importance on animal welfare, and many, many cages of emaciated cats and unidentifiable, piled on top of each other house rodents and dogs looked as though they were suffering acutely. As we are about to enter the year of the rabbit - they are treated as kings - and are very scarce as they are symbols of the greatest luck.
It makes me think of my Dotty - how is she?
We decided to eat in tonight and bought a dvd of the new and unreleased Cohen brothers film 'True Grit' for 50p from a street seller along with some chinese cakes from my favourite hole in the wall on Anfu Lu.
Tomorrow we head to the countryside! Will write from the high speed train.
The most common thing we experienced was people asking us to take a picture of them - then asking you where you're from - chatting, and basically tricking you into something then escorting to a cash point. The most common method, is to make friends with a foreigner, take them to an 'amazing' chinese tea house, and then they find out that charge is about 100 pounds. Luckily, I had read all about these - and we didn't fall for any of it. We had non stop comments about out 'lovely' blonde hair and 'lovely' white skin - men and women from the scamming teams were targeting our vanity and laying it on thick with the complements in a vain attempt to get us to talk.
Once inside peoples square metro station - with no fewer than 20 different entrances and even more platforms - you are confronted with the biggest mall that you have ever seen - most of it underground. It would have taken all day to wander around it, but suffice to say, we found a Parisian style cafe with a 3 kuai set lunch and I had a manicure for 2 kuai - which was hilarious, as I'm not used to such pampering, and for 2 quid, though thought that I couldn't possibly get anything that would last longer than 5 mins, kept saying thanks and getting up to go! You really can get a lot of value for your money over here as a tourist... I am thinking about having some more treatments. Maybe botox? Yes, that sounds sensible.
We went to the insect, bird and fish market after this - the most unusual and amazing sight. Streets and streets of individual, live insects for sale of all different types. Crickets - used for cricket racing and fighting - a very popular pastime here, were being groomed and bathed by their stall owners, menageries of birds, singing and squawking for their lives - and more lucky goldfish than you can imagine.
At points the market was harrowing. The Chinese (generally speaking) put little importance on animal welfare, and many, many cages of emaciated cats and unidentifiable, piled on top of each other house rodents and dogs looked as though they were suffering acutely. As we are about to enter the year of the rabbit - they are treated as kings - and are very scarce as they are symbols of the greatest luck.
It makes me think of my Dotty - how is she?
We decided to eat in tonight and bought a dvd of the new and unreleased Cohen brothers film 'True Grit' for 50p from a street seller along with some chinese cakes from my favourite hole in the wall on Anfu Lu.
Tomorrow we head to the countryside! Will write from the high speed train.
Shanghai continues to be awesome.
Last night I ate pigs knuckle! That is - one made entirely of tofu and shaped into a giant hoof. The days all begin to merge into one as we hop over the city doing this and that.
Yesterday we went to the arts district. It reminded me a little of what I saw of the arts district in New Yoik - blocks of warehouses - all networked together, offering the usual commercial art expos with a few really good bits hidden among all of the Nathan Barley bits. It was rather immense and took some time, after all of the wandering and staring at conceptual Chinese art, we decided to grab a cab to the Bund and have some touristy fun in the Pearl Tower. Now, the pearl tower is nicknamed the disco balls - look it up on google images and then imagine the balls covered with glittery lights - this is what it is like at night. Except bright neon pink!
As with a lot of places in Shanghai (and China, I imagine) you have to go through tons of security and get frisked before you are allowed into any building. Even before you enter any tube station you have to put your bags through an x-ray machine. Its bit sinister sometimes, but mainly you don't notice. At the pearl tower though, we did notice, as you had to go through about 50 checks! In the basement there is an immense, labyrinthine museum dedicated to the history of shanghai - some cool bits and only 20 kuai (2 quid) which kept us entertained and out of the cold.
Now, the cold is something I will just mention, as you will never have experienced anything like it. It creeps into your bones. Imagine the coldest that the winter in the uk has been, except somehow, more bitter, sharper. It sucks ass. And its absolutely pitiful to see Shanghai in all of its finery, especially after their world Expo 2010, with all of the homeless people and slums that exist under the surface.
Today and yesterday we went to some neglected areas and saw much poverty. So weird when you've just come from another bit of town and literally everyone is clad from top to toe in Gucci.
After the museum of everything, where Rick took the door off of one of the toilet cubicles by mistake, and I sat down on a prop bench made of papier mache, we ran away, and met Anna.
The best bit of the day was yet to come - we went up to the bar on the 91st floor of the financial tower - the 3rd tallest building in the world and one of Shanghai's biggest treats - and had a decadent cocktail!
The building is nicknamed the bottle opener - as with the pearl tower - look it up online, then imagine it with billion buckets of glitter thrown all over it. It truly was amazing being that high up, I've never experienced anything like it. My ears popped several times in the lift up and the entire building was very futuristic. Rather than pay 100 kuai (per person) to go on to the observatory, we opted for the bar, where we were waited on like royalty and, I kid you not, the loos had heated toilet seats. Heated. Heated! As you walk into the loo the seat opens - as if it knows... This amazing sensor device seemed to me as though the toilet were speaking to me, saying 'come on, have a seat, do a lovely wee'... And so I did.
Nice toilets are very, very hard to find here, but this was in another league. Ooh, I do like a nice loo.
After this, we headed to the totally vegetarian restaurant, which fashions tofu, fungus and bean paste into plates of 'meat'. We had sweet and sour ribs, rockfish and chicken wings.
I found this a rather disturbing experience - and not an entirely tasty one to boot. However, it was most jolly, and, having never had tried these items in their 'real' forms, it did have a novelty. But we all agreed that the most delicious bit was the side order of Aubergines and Shechuatan Mashed potato! Mash...mmm...
God, I love potatoes. You can get baked sweet potatoes here, in their jackets, just being sold by men in front of little open fires for a few pence. I may start this venture up in Shoreditch.
Last night I ate pigs knuckle! That is - one made entirely of tofu and shaped into a giant hoof. The days all begin to merge into one as we hop over the city doing this and that.
Yesterday we went to the arts district. It reminded me a little of what I saw of the arts district in New Yoik - blocks of warehouses - all networked together, offering the usual commercial art expos with a few really good bits hidden among all of the Nathan Barley bits. It was rather immense and took some time, after all of the wandering and staring at conceptual Chinese art, we decided to grab a cab to the Bund and have some touristy fun in the Pearl Tower. Now, the pearl tower is nicknamed the disco balls - look it up on google images and then imagine the balls covered with glittery lights - this is what it is like at night. Except bright neon pink!
As with a lot of places in Shanghai (and China, I imagine) you have to go through tons of security and get frisked before you are allowed into any building. Even before you enter any tube station you have to put your bags through an x-ray machine. Its bit sinister sometimes, but mainly you don't notice. At the pearl tower though, we did notice, as you had to go through about 50 checks! In the basement there is an immense, labyrinthine museum dedicated to the history of shanghai - some cool bits and only 20 kuai (2 quid) which kept us entertained and out of the cold.
Now, the cold is something I will just mention, as you will never have experienced anything like it. It creeps into your bones. Imagine the coldest that the winter in the uk has been, except somehow, more bitter, sharper. It sucks ass. And its absolutely pitiful to see Shanghai in all of its finery, especially after their world Expo 2010, with all of the homeless people and slums that exist under the surface.
Today and yesterday we went to some neglected areas and saw much poverty. So weird when you've just come from another bit of town and literally everyone is clad from top to toe in Gucci.
After the museum of everything, where Rick took the door off of one of the toilet cubicles by mistake, and I sat down on a prop bench made of papier mache, we ran away, and met Anna.
The best bit of the day was yet to come - we went up to the bar on the 91st floor of the financial tower - the 3rd tallest building in the world and one of Shanghai's biggest treats - and had a decadent cocktail!
The building is nicknamed the bottle opener - as with the pearl tower - look it up online, then imagine it with billion buckets of glitter thrown all over it. It truly was amazing being that high up, I've never experienced anything like it. My ears popped several times in the lift up and the entire building was very futuristic. Rather than pay 100 kuai (per person) to go on to the observatory, we opted for the bar, where we were waited on like royalty and, I kid you not, the loos had heated toilet seats. Heated. Heated! As you walk into the loo the seat opens - as if it knows... This amazing sensor device seemed to me as though the toilet were speaking to me, saying 'come on, have a seat, do a lovely wee'... And so I did.
Nice toilets are very, very hard to find here, but this was in another league. Ooh, I do like a nice loo.
After this, we headed to the totally vegetarian restaurant, which fashions tofu, fungus and bean paste into plates of 'meat'. We had sweet and sour ribs, rockfish and chicken wings.
I found this a rather disturbing experience - and not an entirely tasty one to boot. However, it was most jolly, and, having never had tried these items in their 'real' forms, it did have a novelty. But we all agreed that the most delicious bit was the side order of Aubergines and Shechuatan Mashed potato! Mash...mmm...
God, I love potatoes. You can get baked sweet potatoes here, in their jackets, just being sold by men in front of little open fires for a few pence. I may start this venture up in Shoreditch.
Yesterday was began slowly, as I slept til 3 with the jet lag! Bah... Nik teaches on Sundays so the three of us headed off on the metro (3 yuan - 30p for a single!) And went to Shanghai's biggest camera market - a shopping mall on 4 stories, starting from the top down, with cameras from the 19th century to the latest gadgets and gizmos of today. I got some film - costing about a pound for 36 exposures (!!) Rick marvelled at the delightful old cameras, as did I. But the antiques were a little out of our range.
After this, we went to perhaps the best and biggest fabric market in the world. Time Out had a lot of articles about it, lots written or from the perspective of people who work in fashion in Paris and Milan who come to Shanghai to get their clothes custom made at this very market.
Imagine the biggest clothes shop/haberdashers/John Lewis fabric department and times it by 10 thousand. Then you'll be starting to understand the size and variety of stock on offer here. Before we ventured inside, we stocked up on some street food - hot dumping for 10p - about the size of a cricket ball. Mmm.
Once inside, we set about the task of finding some fabric that we each liked - in order to turn it into an item of some sort. The quality of fabric was amazing - raw silk, Thai silk and pure Chinese silk in abundance in all styles and patterns... It was heavenly. People from all over the world go there in order to purchase made to measure clothes in posh fabrics that one could never afford at home. Handmade leather jackets - made to measure - which fit like a glove are about 600 yuan (60) and made to measure suits for men are very popular too. They key is to barter. One man that I approached, as I really liked some of his fabric, wouldn't barter at all, pointing out that he would need even more fabric than usual for someone of my size... A lost sale there. He has a point, but still.
Anna had a dress with her that she wanted to be re made in a different fabric, as it was very old and tattered. She chose a nice dusky pink colour and managed to barter the man down to 350 yuan (35 quid) for the whole made to measure dress, complete with lining.
Even - to my astonishment - Rick decided to get a made to measure suit for Helen's wedding! We found a few different materials that he liked and shopped around. I bartered some really low offers and in the end Rick has gone for lovely blue colour with a kind of check, in a lightweight cashmere, all made to measure all for 500 yuan! We are so chuffed with that.
As for me... Well, it took me a very long time to find something that I wanted - there was just too much choice. Also, there were SO many fashionista tourists, mainly French, German and Italian getting fitted for things that it made it quite hard to get a good look at stuff. Yes, I know I was doing the same as them!
In the end I went for what I think was an amazing fabric, we'll have to wait and see what the man does with it, but he measured me and planned the dress together, so hopefully it will fit and be a gooden. I am excited!
After this we walked to the river - the Bund. We went to a bar at the top of a tall building and could see everything. after that, Nik met us and we did something very special - really made me wish that you were all there too. We went to a 5 star hotel called the Peace Hotel and went to their Jazz Bar, where the same Jazz band who started playing there in the 30s are still playing today. It was real art deco, 30s style glamour, and the music was fab. We could only afford one drink, but it was still cheap compared to London prices.
After that, we walked to the Oxford street area and headed for food. As it is the new year, the Chinese have a national holiday today, so last night things closed at around nine, making it difficult to find food... Eventually we went to a fantastic central asian place, sort of Chinese but sort of Kazakhstani/Usbeki too. Big hot breads were served instead of rice. I have mainly been eating boiled veg with chillies and garlic - broccoli, pak choi, aubergines etc. But had a really lovely thing here called 'three silks', which was strings of pepper, cucumber and carrot with glass noodles, chilli and garlic. Tres tasty. Ate too much tough and felt a bit sick after! Rick had something called 'detonation mutton' this was very spicy.
The Chinglish - english to chinese translations have been very funny - I am taking lots of pics.
Today, we went to a fantastic exhibition - mum and rose, I so wish you could have seen it! In fact, you All would have really liked it. It was an exhibition of Chinese propaganda, all saved and preserved buy this one man, throughout the 1940s to 1980s. It was breathtakingly good.
After that we saw another exhibition at the Spanish embassy of photographs, then walked down the busiest street in the area to get street food and chinese cakes. We have just had them with a big pot of tea, now we are preparing to go to one of Shanghai's many 'ladies nights' - these happen city-wide each night. In fact, there are cheap food and drink deals everywhere, every night and the city does seem to be abuzz with people crazy nights out.
You can get dvds here for 50p of new releases, so can you all let me know if you want something in particular? Can't guarantee it, but name a few and I will try to get them.
Right, I'm off for Sangria and Margharitas - free all night!
After this, we went to perhaps the best and biggest fabric market in the world. Time Out had a lot of articles about it, lots written or from the perspective of people who work in fashion in Paris and Milan who come to Shanghai to get their clothes custom made at this very market.
Imagine the biggest clothes shop/haberdashers/John Lewis fabric department and times it by 10 thousand. Then you'll be starting to understand the size and variety of stock on offer here. Before we ventured inside, we stocked up on some street food - hot dumping for 10p - about the size of a cricket ball. Mmm.
Once inside, we set about the task of finding some fabric that we each liked - in order to turn it into an item of some sort. The quality of fabric was amazing - raw silk, Thai silk and pure Chinese silk in abundance in all styles and patterns... It was heavenly. People from all over the world go there in order to purchase made to measure clothes in posh fabrics that one could never afford at home. Handmade leather jackets - made to measure - which fit like a glove are about 600 yuan (60) and made to measure suits for men are very popular too. They key is to barter. One man that I approached, as I really liked some of his fabric, wouldn't barter at all, pointing out that he would need even more fabric than usual for someone of my size... A lost sale there. He has a point, but still.
Anna had a dress with her that she wanted to be re made in a different fabric, as it was very old and tattered. She chose a nice dusky pink colour and managed to barter the man down to 350 yuan (35 quid) for the whole made to measure dress, complete with lining.
Even - to my astonishment - Rick decided to get a made to measure suit for Helen's wedding! We found a few different materials that he liked and shopped around. I bartered some really low offers and in the end Rick has gone for lovely blue colour with a kind of check, in a lightweight cashmere, all made to measure all for 500 yuan! We are so chuffed with that.
As for me... Well, it took me a very long time to find something that I wanted - there was just too much choice. Also, there were SO many fashionista tourists, mainly French, German and Italian getting fitted for things that it made it quite hard to get a good look at stuff. Yes, I know I was doing the same as them!
In the end I went for what I think was an amazing fabric, we'll have to wait and see what the man does with it, but he measured me and planned the dress together, so hopefully it will fit and be a gooden. I am excited!
After this we walked to the river - the Bund. We went to a bar at the top of a tall building and could see everything. after that, Nik met us and we did something very special - really made me wish that you were all there too. We went to a 5 star hotel called the Peace Hotel and went to their Jazz Bar, where the same Jazz band who started playing there in the 30s are still playing today. It was real art deco, 30s style glamour, and the music was fab. We could only afford one drink, but it was still cheap compared to London prices.
After that, we walked to the Oxford street area and headed for food. As it is the new year, the Chinese have a national holiday today, so last night things closed at around nine, making it difficult to find food... Eventually we went to a fantastic central asian place, sort of Chinese but sort of Kazakhstani/Usbeki too. Big hot breads were served instead of rice. I have mainly been eating boiled veg with chillies and garlic - broccoli, pak choi, aubergines etc. But had a really lovely thing here called 'three silks', which was strings of pepper, cucumber and carrot with glass noodles, chilli and garlic. Tres tasty. Ate too much tough and felt a bit sick after! Rick had something called 'detonation mutton' this was very spicy.
The Chinglish - english to chinese translations have been very funny - I am taking lots of pics.
Today, we went to a fantastic exhibition - mum and rose, I so wish you could have seen it! In fact, you All would have really liked it. It was an exhibition of Chinese propaganda, all saved and preserved buy this one man, throughout the 1940s to 1980s. It was breathtakingly good.
After that we saw another exhibition at the Spanish embassy of photographs, then walked down the busiest street in the area to get street food and chinese cakes. We have just had them with a big pot of tea, now we are preparing to go to one of Shanghai's many 'ladies nights' - these happen city-wide each night. In fact, there are cheap food and drink deals everywhere, every night and the city does seem to be abuzz with people crazy nights out.
You can get dvds here for 50p of new releases, so can you all let me know if you want something in particular? Can't guarantee it, but name a few and I will try to get them.
Right, I'm off for Sangria and Margharitas - free all night!
1 January 2011
After arriving in Shanghai, Nik and Anna took us out to eat. There is no tipping in China - at all. Therefore, the service is often awful. No one smiled, but we pointed to colourful pictures and ate a nice meal of spicy aubergines, green beans, scrambled egg and warm cucumbers with rice. They came with bottles of Tsingtao that were nearly a foot tall - and all for 400RMB (called kuai by the kids, kind of like quid!) Which is 4 pounds to you or I! So eating out is VERY cheap almost everywhere but the very swankiest places. If you are very concerned about the provenance of the food or its general treatment, then China probably won't be your kind of place. Absolutely nothing is wasted, nothing looks pretty, everything is chucked in and from what I've seen in one day - animals possibly don't have the best of lives before they meet their maker.
After eating we got a cab to the club where Nik had been booked to DJ - LUNE. Lots of clubs are on the top floor of tall buildings - the same is true of nice bars too. Lune was at the top of a building in the heart of the brightly illuminated French quarter, and was a smallish room, totally lined with cushions, crazy lights and big windows. There was waitress service - and you can still (of course) smoke in China. Nearly everyone does, it seems. Measures are done by eye and are very generous - so after two rums and no sleep I was up on the stage having a good old boogie with one very drunk Chinese friend of Anna's, whose boyfriend had to carry her home not long after midnight.
We saw in the new year whilst Nik played a classic - Anything Goes - sung in Mandarin by the actress in Indiana Jones at the start of the one where it is 1930s Shanghai. That is a very annoying actress - Kate something? But an excellent (if little bit racist) film. Rick and I did a lot of dancing and jumping around - we both made friends! Me, a girl from Beijing who goes out with someone who works in Annas office, and Rick with a bloke who found out he work on Films and now wants Rick to come into the animation class that he teaches in one of the Colleges to do a lecture! He was very profuse. His name is Gordon and he is originally from Stoke. I liked him.
Rick and I are both objects of some curiosity over here. Especially Rick, who is stopped frequently by people remarking on his height. A group of school girls giggled a lot and a whole family took particular delight in marvelling at him. Generally, people just stare. They have been looking lots at me too. Not sure that I can blend in well anywhere really, but loud clothes plus loud mouth and big blonde hair seem to stick out too.
So far we have done a lot of walking - last night and today we took a cab across town, the most expensive journey cost 160 kuai (yup - 1 pound 60p)! So what feels like a luxury at home is one of the very cheapest things to do.
Yesterday, I was standing next to a man on the metro who was eating watermelon seeds and spitting the pips onto the floor. A vivid picture, but no one batted an eyelid.
Today, we slept in. We were so tired, but wanted a leg stretch, so we walked all the way across town and saw some sights. The best sights of all, however, were to be had in the supermarket.
There is literally EVERYTHING here. And everything is cheap, too. Electronic goods of all description, posh face cream brands, makeup, all foods and drink... There is a lot to be had.
There are tanks and tanks of crabs, frogs, toads, squid, eel - ducks by the dozen, plucked and lying there in a heap. People just use nets and help themselves to the things in the tanks, and grab the rest of the bits by hand. Hygiene is not a massive priority here (seriously - you should see the toilet situation) but is also a bit like going into the Gap, in the sense that there are hundreds of employees just standing all the way along the aisle, so if you go to even look at anything or pick anything up you are given the hard sell. Makes me a bit scared, as all I can say is hello and thank you.
The best bit is that the shops constantly play music - very loudly - all the time. Today, it was mad children singing. On the tube I heard military music. That might of been the residual paranoia though.
There is a club in town called Obamao and a place called Mao's Kitchen who's slogan is 'I'm a Mmmmaoist' or 'I love Communism - it's tasty' or something like that. I will be taking as many pics as I can!
Anyway, tonight we got a dvd from street seller for 50p - it is the not yet released Black Swan with Natalie Portman. We watched that snuggled up on the sofa - after eating rice and veg all stirred together.
I hope you all had a brilliant New Years Eve.
After arriving in Shanghai, Nik and Anna took us out to eat. There is no tipping in China - at all. Therefore, the service is often awful. No one smiled, but we pointed to colourful pictures and ate a nice meal of spicy aubergines, green beans, scrambled egg and warm cucumbers with rice. They came with bottles of Tsingtao that were nearly a foot tall - and all for 400RMB (called kuai by the kids, kind of like quid!) Which is 4 pounds to you or I! So eating out is VERY cheap almost everywhere but the very swankiest places. If you are very concerned about the provenance of the food or its general treatment, then China probably won't be your kind of place. Absolutely nothing is wasted, nothing looks pretty, everything is chucked in and from what I've seen in one day - animals possibly don't have the best of lives before they meet their maker.
After eating we got a cab to the club where Nik had been booked to DJ - LUNE. Lots of clubs are on the top floor of tall buildings - the same is true of nice bars too. Lune was at the top of a building in the heart of the brightly illuminated French quarter, and was a smallish room, totally lined with cushions, crazy lights and big windows. There was waitress service - and you can still (of course) smoke in China. Nearly everyone does, it seems. Measures are done by eye and are very generous - so after two rums and no sleep I was up on the stage having a good old boogie with one very drunk Chinese friend of Anna's, whose boyfriend had to carry her home not long after midnight.
We saw in the new year whilst Nik played a classic - Anything Goes - sung in Mandarin by the actress in Indiana Jones at the start of the one where it is 1930s Shanghai. That is a very annoying actress - Kate something? But an excellent (if little bit racist) film. Rick and I did a lot of dancing and jumping around - we both made friends! Me, a girl from Beijing who goes out with someone who works in Annas office, and Rick with a bloke who found out he work on Films and now wants Rick to come into the animation class that he teaches in one of the Colleges to do a lecture! He was very profuse. His name is Gordon and he is originally from Stoke. I liked him.
Rick and I are both objects of some curiosity over here. Especially Rick, who is stopped frequently by people remarking on his height. A group of school girls giggled a lot and a whole family took particular delight in marvelling at him. Generally, people just stare. They have been looking lots at me too. Not sure that I can blend in well anywhere really, but loud clothes plus loud mouth and big blonde hair seem to stick out too.
So far we have done a lot of walking - last night and today we took a cab across town, the most expensive journey cost 160 kuai (yup - 1 pound 60p)! So what feels like a luxury at home is one of the very cheapest things to do.
Yesterday, I was standing next to a man on the metro who was eating watermelon seeds and spitting the pips onto the floor. A vivid picture, but no one batted an eyelid.
Today, we slept in. We were so tired, but wanted a leg stretch, so we walked all the way across town and saw some sights. The best sights of all, however, were to be had in the supermarket.
There is literally EVERYTHING here. And everything is cheap, too. Electronic goods of all description, posh face cream brands, makeup, all foods and drink... There is a lot to be had.
There are tanks and tanks of crabs, frogs, toads, squid, eel - ducks by the dozen, plucked and lying there in a heap. People just use nets and help themselves to the things in the tanks, and grab the rest of the bits by hand. Hygiene is not a massive priority here (seriously - you should see the toilet situation) but is also a bit like going into the Gap, in the sense that there are hundreds of employees just standing all the way along the aisle, so if you go to even look at anything or pick anything up you are given the hard sell. Makes me a bit scared, as all I can say is hello and thank you.
The best bit is that the shops constantly play music - very loudly - all the time. Today, it was mad children singing. On the tube I heard military music. That might of been the residual paranoia though.
There is a club in town called Obamao and a place called Mao's Kitchen who's slogan is 'I'm a Mmmmaoist' or 'I love Communism - it's tasty' or something like that. I will be taking as many pics as I can!
Anyway, tonight we got a dvd from street seller for 50p - it is the not yet released Black Swan with Natalie Portman. We watched that snuggled up on the sofa - after eating rice and veg all stirred together.
I hope you all had a brilliant New Years Eve.
Shanghai - the arrival
31 December 2010
Hello all! I very much hope that this message reaches you. I appear to have coverage here. Won't text or call will keep in touch via email - please keep in touch with me too - I don't have to go online - it is auto as part of my tariff as it is in the uk.
So.... After a very eventful morning, which involved travelling to Heathrow rather than Gatwick, we made it. With time to get a bite at Garfunkels! Ricks 'treat' to me as he had been in charge of all travel arrangements. My omlette arrived mere moments (about 12 seconds) after I ordered it, and suddenly I was transported back to the Little Chefs of my childhood...
The first leg of the flight was uneventful - I had the hindu vegan meal - which generally looked much safer than anything else, and tasted okay too. Qatar airways was actually really posh. As much booze, food and premiere films as you like, no limits. Rick got a taste for whisky and ginger and I stuck to a revolving mix of alcoholic, soft, hot and weird drinks - to make sure I got my lionshare.
However, we missed our landing time and ended up in a queue of 17 planes. The result was that as we were landing in Doha our connecting flight had already boarded! All I can say, is that I drew on all of the strength I had, and channelled my inner Dad. I ran. And ran and ran and ran some more. And we made it - only just, but at 1.30am Doha time (6.30am Shanghai and 10.30 London) we settled down to the next round of vegan meals (something with okra this time) endless drinks and films.
The second leg was through the 'night', which was simulated by cabin crew throughout the plane, even though the sun was shining brightly. It was an even posher plane - and the entertainment system had 30 series 5! Rick slept for a bit, and I had a bit of a manic time at around 3am london time (9am shanghai) where I watched the Lost Boys, the Aristocats, beauty and the beast and then listened to the complete Fleetwood Mac...I felt ropey - but very satisfied too.
I brushed my teeth with minature toothpaste and fold-out brush before landing and then we made our way to passport control.
Here, we entered a new level of fear. I presented my visa and all other docs and passport. They then proceeded to tell me that the photo in the passport was not me - and confiscated it! Taking my drivers licence and other photo id too. Several othert officials got involved - Rick tried to help - but they wouldn't let him come over. I eventually had my picture taken about 20 timesd by them and they took specical 'note' of me and my id. They let me go after I protested about 50 times that the photo was taken of me when I was 19 - I am 10 years older now. However, the passport still has more that 6 months on it, as required in China, and visa and all other docs were there too. I don't know if they just didn't like the look of me, or if it really is just the worst photo ever where I look like a featureless ghost, but I can't wait to get a new one.
Apparently, we are supposed to report to the local police station every 24 hours or something mental like that - but I think that's only if you don't have someone that you're staying with. Either way, it wasn't that welcoming a start.
Anyway, next installment tomorrow, I am already getting a bit paranoid about what I'm writing in a bloody email about a faceless security person! I think the paranoia must be contagious. Or maybe its just lack of sleep?
Either way, I have still had no sleep and Anna, Nik, rick and I are off for food then to the club Nik is djing at! Break on through to the other side!
Their flat is lovely and they have been very welcoming. China is freezing! Siberian winds don't you know. Though I think they say that about Cambridge too.
It is nearly new years here - and whilst I'm away from you - I am with you too, as always.
Hello all! I very much hope that this message reaches you. I appear to have coverage here. Won't text or call will keep in touch via email - please keep in touch with me too - I don't have to go online - it is auto as part of my tariff as it is in the uk.
So.... After a very eventful morning, which involved travelling to Heathrow rather than Gatwick, we made it. With time to get a bite at Garfunkels! Ricks 'treat' to me as he had been in charge of all travel arrangements. My omlette arrived mere moments (about 12 seconds) after I ordered it, and suddenly I was transported back to the Little Chefs of my childhood...
The first leg of the flight was uneventful - I had the hindu vegan meal - which generally looked much safer than anything else, and tasted okay too. Qatar airways was actually really posh. As much booze, food and premiere films as you like, no limits. Rick got a taste for whisky and ginger and I stuck to a revolving mix of alcoholic, soft, hot and weird drinks - to make sure I got my lionshare.
However, we missed our landing time and ended up in a queue of 17 planes. The result was that as we were landing in Doha our connecting flight had already boarded! All I can say, is that I drew on all of the strength I had, and channelled my inner Dad. I ran. And ran and ran and ran some more. And we made it - only just, but at 1.30am Doha time (6.30am Shanghai and 10.30 London) we settled down to the next round of vegan meals (something with okra this time) endless drinks and films.
The second leg was through the 'night', which was simulated by cabin crew throughout the plane, even though the sun was shining brightly. It was an even posher plane - and the entertainment system had 30 series 5! Rick slept for a bit, and I had a bit of a manic time at around 3am london time (9am shanghai) where I watched the Lost Boys, the Aristocats, beauty and the beast and then listened to the complete Fleetwood Mac...I felt ropey - but very satisfied too.
I brushed my teeth with minature toothpaste and fold-out brush before landing and then we made our way to passport control.
Here, we entered a new level of fear. I presented my visa and all other docs and passport. They then proceeded to tell me that the photo in the passport was not me - and confiscated it! Taking my drivers licence and other photo id too. Several othert officials got involved - Rick tried to help - but they wouldn't let him come over. I eventually had my picture taken about 20 timesd by them and they took specical 'note' of me and my id. They let me go after I protested about 50 times that the photo was taken of me when I was 19 - I am 10 years older now. However, the passport still has more that 6 months on it, as required in China, and visa and all other docs were there too. I don't know if they just didn't like the look of me, or if it really is just the worst photo ever where I look like a featureless ghost, but I can't wait to get a new one.
Apparently, we are supposed to report to the local police station every 24 hours or something mental like that - but I think that's only if you don't have someone that you're staying with. Either way, it wasn't that welcoming a start.
Anyway, next installment tomorrow, I am already getting a bit paranoid about what I'm writing in a bloody email about a faceless security person! I think the paranoia must be contagious. Or maybe its just lack of sleep?
Either way, I have still had no sleep and Anna, Nik, rick and I are off for food then to the club Nik is djing at! Break on through to the other side!
Their flat is lovely and they have been very welcoming. China is freezing! Siberian winds don't you know. Though I think they say that about Cambridge too.
It is nearly new years here - and whilst I'm away from you - I am with you too, as always.
Thursday, 13 May 2010
The Dawn of a new era...the ConDem nation
Well, what can I possibly say that will make a reasonable excuse for not blogging for so long? I think I can probably pass it off, firstly, as election fever, and secondly, as post-election malaise. I'm sure we all have it, so I'll try not to dwell.
In fact, for the first time in ages (one week or so)I feeling rather happy. Having just watched Question Time and witnessed the farcical sycophancy of Simon Hughes and Lord Heseltine rubbing each other on the back and the sight of Melanie Phillips (always unpleasant) about to spontaneously combust - there was a shining light at the reaching out to me and all good reds out there - Mhedi Hasan! Goodness me, what a man. Hasan for the leadership! He expressed so well h0w I, and I'm sure loads of other -people are feeling right now. But it could be worse of course. I could have voted Lib Dem and now be squirming around uncomfortably, mesmerised by this unholy union. I think I will enjoy being in opposition, as the only truly viable progressive option. Possibly the best thing to happen to Labour. Possibly. Definitely not the best thing for the nation though, but ho hum.
I will try to shut up about it now, as I have been going on about nothing else for 7 days flat. And I definitely haven't said anything original or insightful or even witty so far.
In other news I have read the God Delusion again and decided to (again) that it is a marvellous book - mind you the dust-cover review on the front of the book's jacket also states that this is Derren Brown's favourite book. So there's no accounting for taste. Actually, I think re-reading this has caused a slight crisis... but I managed to paper over it by watching loads of Attenborough. Now I am getting a nightly fix of Life on Earth and the slightly less angry evolutionary stylings of the lovely Richard. Much more relaxing than what I was doing before - reading actual bits of the bible and getting very scared.
The only other bit of major news is BUNNY BUNNY BUNNY! Yes, we are getting a bunny. A mini lop rabbit, brown with a white tummy. The flat-packed hutch arrived yesterday and I erected it myself! Although Rick did have to go over it again this evening just to make sure that it was structurally sound (it wasn't). So now I have all the hay in the world, a great hutch and the makings of a fabulous bunny kingdom. Bunny arrives on Sunday.
If you want to come round and stroke it please do. Apparently they like nose-fondling! Don't we all.
Well, off I go. More tomorrow!
C xxx
Wednesday, 10 March 2010
Dearest ducks,
What a day and night we've had...your loyal correspondent here writes to you with sad tidings a plenty - I was voted off after the 3rd challenge! Travesty! Oh justice! O! Woe, woe and thrice woe.
It all began after a particularly arduous 2nd service, where, if you'll remember the infamous 'salt-gate' episode occurred. Dear god the shame. But after drinking 2 value cans of own brand cola, some beef and onion hula hoops and contraband Haribo stolen from Sir Ben's stash in the library I found my second wind - literally - and rushed around the kitchen with the others madly prepping for episode 3...
Yes, that's right, the ITV cheapskates could only afford 4 days at Maunsel House, stately pile of the 7th Baronet of Somerset and all round good-time guy, cad and commoner-hater. Therefore the producers announced the twist that we would be filming through the night the 3rd episode of the 5-part challenge as a time-saving measure. Good job I'd had drink all of that sugary cola and those 3 cups of tea, where the 4 of us that remained had to share the same teabag. Catering here is not so great, as you might have gathered.
JBR came in possibly hungover this morning. Today he had value multipack salt and vinegar crisps and a Tesco’s ham sandwich. He looked fucking grateful too! Oh the glamour. If you do get the chance dear readers, please look old JBR up on Google images and appreciate the likeness he has to a leathery pissed lizard. I have been forced to study his face for the last few days at alarmingly close proximity and it really is uncanny.
Anyway, back to the sad tale of yours truly and my elimination, The bombshell of the 3rd challenge was dropped and we were told that we would have to cook hundreds of canapés for a cocktail party, the canapés were our own creations (one recipe only, 80 canapés each) I made my own sundried tomato bread and smashed broad beans with mozzarella. P was on foul form all day and had to be reprimanded for bullying of the other contestants (not me, I hasten to add) as he said in his own words; "If you'd told me that I'd be having a conversation with a fat, tattooed, skint girl last week I just wouldn't have believed it. I never socialise with people like you. But for some reason I think you're great!" Ah, fantastic, I had unwittingly won the old buggers heart just by being good old me. And I didn’t even want to. Was rather hilarious thinking to myself that it was funny that he liked me but I secretly hate him and so I briefly lost my inner monologue and did a snorty laugh in his face. I think he took it as a sign of affection. Foolish man!
The 4 of us remaining - A, P, R and myself whizzed around for the next few hours - each with a camera in our face. Sometimes I'd catch something that one of the others was saying and become entranced. Did I sound like as much of a twat as them?! Yes, I fear, is the answer to that. In an amazing fit of foresight I spent the entire session gabbing to anyone and everyone that asked, about how I thought my dish was the weakest and that I deserved to go and that I thought I'd go. I also did a lots of saying "I'm not at all competitive... it really wouldn’t bother me if I left... the other 3 are SOOOO amazing" etc.
After a short break drinking more hazardous beverages and spending a particularly satisfying 5 minutes dreaming up ways of elaborately trapping and killing P using only my wits and an assortment of potato peelers, a mandolin and very, very dense ladle, it was time for our canapés to get out to the 3 or 4 eager diners that had attended the 3am fake cocktail party.
Then came the moment of truth...I don't want to ruin the show for you, so all I'll say is that I might have shed a little tear or two and gushed on about what a great time I'd had and how the other 3 were the best...but that would surely risk spoiling the surprise of seeing one of your oldest and dearest friends make a twat of herself on telly, and I wouldn’t want to do that! So you will have to watch the whole ghastly charade for yourselves!! Or at least the 3 hours of top quality entertainment that features MOI. Three out of five ain't bad.
But just a word to the wise, if you do happen to see a weepy writer getting booted of a reality cookery contest and then swearing at her competitors and shouting into the camera "turn that fucking thing OFF!" then remember to have some sympathy for her, as chances are she just been hugged and kissed by JBR the lizard man himself. That's probably what set her off.
So, my friends, I will be in from tomorrow and very much at your disposal for chats/tea/drinks/me to cook you something nice, so please get in touch so that I can try to be normal again.
I do hope I didn’t let any of you fine folk down; I did have a great experience you know. And its even re-ignited my blogging fever so I will let you know the address of my new blog set up if you fancy a read a long a day.
With much love to you all, ties I signing off to finally sleep.
Chloe xxx
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
The Country House Cooking Chronicles - Day 2
This is the post that I wrote on day two - about 10 weeks ago now, the day of the bubble and squeak cakes and dreaded quails eggs ...
Loyal Readers,
Today has been absolutely knackering! We have finished filming and I have just had my first meal of the day - two slices of white kingsmill and a packet of cheese and onion. The irony of being a contestant on a cooking show is not lost on me.
This is the sort of stage where I don't want to give too much away - just in case you happen to be in at 4 in the afternoon when this airs and you want to see for yourselves... I'll assume that you won't and so I can reveal that..........I got through the second round!
The day began very early when we told we were catering for a shooting party at the manor. Queue lots and lots of tweed, fur and horse-faces. And shrill laughter. And champagne. And dissaproving staring at my bedraggled and sweaty face. What joy! Sir Ben and his shooting party clogged up the manor and feasted on the labours of our hard work late into the day, which was already much delayed by M's shock decision to walk away from the comp.
Cor blimey - the drama! The tears! The cameras! I will never ever get used to being followed around by a camera all day long. You feel like a right blooming tit and there's nowhere to hide when you want to innocently pick your nose or moan about what a shitbag JBR is.
JBR, incidentally, likes a drink. All day long. I hope that when the viewers watch this they can see his steady progression from 11am onwards in to total pissed-ness. I wouldn't mind but he never offered me one!
Anyway, back to the hunt party. The course I was given was my bubble and squeak cakes with a poached quails egg on top. Sadly, I forgot to add the necessary 12 tablespoons of salt and the diners said they'd prefer it with some delicious ham. Can't argue with that! Thought they were a bit bland and wished I'd made them with smoked haddock! Bum.
R has totally toned down over the last couple of days and is now being very respectful and kind - he's still keeping up with the old racism; "what do you call an Indian lesbian" he shrilled this afternoon, "mingeater!" came is glad tidings and I watched him laugh himself into a mini stupor. I have done quite well at telling him to shut his fucking face, and have found that P is the really annoying one. I won't spoil the surprise here, but the bugger keeps oinking into his camera how little salt I use, the ruddy codger. Oh how I laughed into my camera. Laughed I tells ye!
When it came to the judging, I stayed. So did R and P. Tomorrow is another day!
I have to go now, as the Blossom Hill that I stole from the Risotto making area is beginning to cause me some grief.
With much love from your intrepid culinary correspondent who has been on site for 3 days - but it feels like 3 long weeks! Tell me, is Obama still president? Has the Middle East crisis been solved? Who's at number 1 in the Pepsi charts?
Adoration in delicious little quinelles xxx
Country House Cooking Chronicles...Day 1
Day one has just finished filming, and we have trudged back though the snow from the manor house to our cottage. It is 4am.
The day began at 9am with cornflakes and coffee (fetched by a very helpful runner) who was on hand to do out bidding throughout the day. Sort of. Well, if our bidding involved bringing us multi packs of Hula Hoops and coca cola.
Filming didn't begin until 2pm, and the first set of shots consisted of some incredibly cringe worthy walking shots of each of us walking up to Maunsell House, gazing in wonderment, uttering many a overwhelmed word and generally marvelling. Next was an introduction to Sir Benjamin and Lady Kirsty (tru dat) and their many dogs. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just politely fussed over the pooches and generally pretended that I had never been into a stately home before.
Soon the time came for us to get to eh kitchen and meet JBR. You know how some presenters put on a nasty act for the cameras? This was no act. The lizardy one was so foul, so lacking in charm and charisma of any sort... to describe him as a git would be a colossal understatement. He quickly informed us that we would be preparing a 6 course meal... and that I would be making the first of 2 desserts - Clementine cake.
To cut a long story short, it seemed to go okay. Having watched the show yesterday, it was very gratifying to see that the diners all loved it, even if JBR didn't. It was very bizarre and disconcerting to see the size of my arse on telly. Not to mention my big old porcelain plate head. I really didn't know that it was so HUGE.
Oh well. Also amused by these programmes and how the formats dictate that you have to pigeonhole each and every person. To compartmentalise me as the 'alternative one' was hilarious. As was listening to the voice over describe me as 'kooky', 'colourful' and 'quirky' respectively. Hilarious!
Well today is another day, I go through to the next round as you may have gathered from watching...
You will have to tun in at 4pm on ITV to see my progress today - and how the hunt party take to a vegetarian cook. Probably not well I am thinking.
Let me know what you all think and thanks for reading my ducks and doves!
The day began at 9am with cornflakes and coffee (fetched by a very helpful runner) who was on hand to do out bidding throughout the day. Sort of. Well, if our bidding involved bringing us multi packs of Hula Hoops and coca cola.
Filming didn't begin until 2pm, and the first set of shots consisted of some incredibly cringe worthy walking shots of each of us walking up to Maunsell House, gazing in wonderment, uttering many a overwhelmed word and generally marvelling. Next was an introduction to Sir Benjamin and Lady Kirsty (tru dat) and their many dogs. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just politely fussed over the pooches and generally pretended that I had never been into a stately home before.
Soon the time came for us to get to eh kitchen and meet JBR. You know how some presenters put on a nasty act for the cameras? This was no act. The lizardy one was so foul, so lacking in charm and charisma of any sort... to describe him as a git would be a colossal understatement. He quickly informed us that we would be preparing a 6 course meal... and that I would be making the first of 2 desserts - Clementine cake.
To cut a long story short, it seemed to go okay. Having watched the show yesterday, it was very gratifying to see that the diners all loved it, even if JBR didn't. It was very bizarre and disconcerting to see the size of my arse on telly. Not to mention my big old porcelain plate head. I really didn't know that it was so HUGE.
Oh well. Also amused by these programmes and how the formats dictate that you have to pigeonhole each and every person. To compartmentalise me as the 'alternative one' was hilarious. As was listening to the voice over describe me as 'kooky', 'colourful' and 'quirky' respectively. Hilarious!
Well today is another day, I go through to the next round as you may have gathered from watching...
You will have to tun in at 4pm on ITV to see my progress today - and how the hunt party take to a vegetarian cook. Probably not well I am thinking.
Let me know what you all think and thanks for reading my ducks and doves!
Sunday, 7 March 2010
On the brink of stardom... ITV daytime - Here I come!
Hello my darlings!
I can scarce believe it, but the hour is nigh, this time tomorrow I would have made my tv debut! Reality tv is certainly something that I had never previously considered... But after a random call from 'researcher 1' asking me if I'd consider cooking on telly, all expenses paid, I decided I could not resist.
Actually, what I really decided was that 2010 is the year to have some new experiences, hopefully positive, and certainly take a few more risks than usual. So I gone and done it. Spending a week of January in a remote country house cooking for the aristocracy. And if you want to see more, I suggest you tune in at 4pm tomorrow on ITV!
This weekend Rick and I went to see Capitalism: A Love Story at the Barbican. And blooming brilliant it was too. The we went for Filipino food and stuffed ourselves rotten! I probably should have restrained myself, but unfortunately was overcome by greed for exotic food. The best thing that I ate was purple yam ice cream. LUSH.
Now I am sitting with Ricky watching In the Loop and eating a chocolate and pear pudding and drinking wine. We live much like French dukes. It is our way. Bea is with us and it has been most lovely. I am excited about spending a day in the scareball before coming home to watch what may be the most embarrassing display of culinary skills ever before seen and screened to man.
Please let me know what you think, and more importantly, reassure me that you still want to be friends.
Big love and sweet dreams xxx
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
Nightshift horrors
It is 4am and I am not asleep. In fact, I am being paid to moderate comments on a selection of forums for a job that I have just been made redundant from. It all seems rather futile...but I love a crisis! And this latest money-based woe has caused me to hunt around for employment with a vengeance.
It has also (seemingly) forced me to watch 'My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding' on 4OD, google 'Country House Cooking Competition' and click on each link and to eat a bowl of something called 'Nougat Pillows', which turned out not to be as delicious and dreamy as the name implies.
Ricky and I spent a very enjoyable day in the Gagosian gallery and Wellcome Trust - I watched a video installation until I got dizzy and looked at a poor man's eye which had been blown of and recorded forever in posterity by Damien Hirst.
We then had a very enjoyable Vietnamese dinner with the FP crew and Ruth, where I had too much wine then had to come home and eat coffee granules out of a jar to sober up before work.
And job hunt round 2. Less hurrah, more hurroo.
I hope that as I write this you are all having a lovely sleep!
xxx
It has also (seemingly) forced me to watch 'My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding' on 4OD, google 'Country House Cooking Competition' and click on each link and to eat a bowl of something called 'Nougat Pillows', which turned out not to be as delicious and dreamy as the name implies.
Ricky and I spent a very enjoyable day in the Gagosian gallery and Wellcome Trust - I watched a video installation until I got dizzy and looked at a poor man's eye which had been blown of and recorded forever in posterity by Damien Hirst.
We then had a very enjoyable Vietnamese dinner with the FP crew and Ruth, where I had too much wine then had to come home and eat coffee granules out of a jar to sober up before work.
And job hunt round 2. Less hurrah, more hurroo.
I hope that as I write this you are all having a lovely sleep!
xxx
Friday, 26 February 2010
The wanderer returns...
Well, my pledge to write everyday lasted for January alone it seems, for Feb has been quite the busy month. I think it could be summed up by saying the some sort of mini-breakdown has happened. But it's hard to explain. The important thing is that I am back! And resolved to write this blog each and every day.
Some changes have occured recently - not too dramatic - but changes none the less. Job, career (ha ha), friends and family...all my time has been taken up. As to these changes however, I cannot really go into them yet. But I will dear reader, one day.
This week has been taken up with job issues mostly, and it seems that I may shortly need to find a new one. Mostly I have been excited about seeing Brighton friends at some point for Billy's birthday and the long awaited end of Clash so that Ricky will finally stop working 7 days a week and will have 2 weeks off to hang out with me! This is the most exciting thing to happen for some time.
Aother development for those interested is a little matter of reality tv. ITV, 4pm, week beginning the 8th March. I will say no more.
Have a fabbo friday!
Some changes have occured recently - not too dramatic - but changes none the less. Job, career (ha ha), friends and family...all my time has been taken up. As to these changes however, I cannot really go into them yet. But I will dear reader, one day.
This week has been taken up with job issues mostly, and it seems that I may shortly need to find a new one. Mostly I have been excited about seeing Brighton friends at some point for Billy's birthday and the long awaited end of Clash so that Ricky will finally stop working 7 days a week and will have 2 weeks off to hang out with me! This is the most exciting thing to happen for some time.
Aother development for those interested is a little matter of reality tv. ITV, 4pm, week beginning the 8th March. I will say no more.
Have a fabbo friday!
Sunday, 14 February 2010
On Love
Today is Valentine's Day, and Ricky is taking me for dinner tonight. I am very excited by this prospect, as I am rather hungry. He has also bought me a poetry book and a card, in which he tells me that I am his 'first and last munch of biscuits' a truly romantic sentiment I feel.
Anyway, I am a lucky girl. I know this. Last night, being a Saturday, there were a lot of anti- Valentines nights happening - clubs, pubs and parties abounded like any other Saturday in London town. But we were off to little Jessie's birthday - the theme of which was 'ANDROGYNY.' A daunting prospect, as this is the sort of theme that actually requires you to have a think about what to wear (and also maybe a quick look at a dictionary)...Anyone who knows Ricky will know that he is rather an expert on these matters, an authority, if you will on gender studies and the like, he decided, in his infinite wisdom to go as a seahorse. Seahorses can and do change gender from m-f and back throughout their lives, also the men can carry pregnancies. This involved Ricky buying a purple sequined dress from a market stall (ox st, size 10) and then making a strange seahorse headdress and snout out of a pizza box and egg carton. Needless to say, he looked very good.
I had even more unkempt hair than usual - sticking out at least two foot from either side in different directions. I teemed this vagabond look with a tuxedo shirt and black jacket, bow tie and black trousers. The vampy red lips and black 'tasche were an afterthought, but most pleasing to behold. As you can tell, I didn't put much thought into it, I just thought about what was handy and shoved it on. Nice.
There were lots of lovely yooof at the party, and I felt as though I were 104 years old, clutching at my mug of wine and shuffling from chair to chair. Even at one point, after loosing the nice bottle of Bordeaux that we bought, turning down another glass of wine from a friendly stranger after scrutinising the bottle and declaring that I 'don't care for Merlot, and would try to stick to the Burgundy.' What a total ponce.
That statement was short-lived however, and I believe I came across that same smiling stranger a few hours later when foraging for contraband booze, coming across an dusty bottle of Drambuie and shrieking 'Ah! Loverly boozy potions!' in their face. I did, of course, drink everything in my path, resulting in a possibly unwise move to the Dalston Jazz Bar (always ace, always full) where I jived around til 3am then realised that I had to work at 9am.
And that is what I am doing right now. My brain is soggy and hurty, and I have just looked in the mirror to examine some of the stuff that is being held hostage by my hair. At the moment most of it seem unidentifiable. Hopefully just some sticky Drambuie or the remnants of an individual cheese souffle. Don't ask.
I will tell you tomorrow where we dined tonight and any other news. I am excited as it is Glee night and Ruthie will be here. I am also going to help Karen decorate her flat - possibly not as good as Glee, but still good.
Fancy dress - Do's and Don'ts:
DO:
Dress up. A bit. Go on! Make a little effort.
Bring plenty of delicious booze that you can clutch in your own bag all night (tramps handbag), chewing gum and possibly a Curly Wurly for the long journey home.
Keep re-applying your fake facial hair at regular intervals. Your persistence will pay off.
DON'T:
Eat only one small lightweight souffle before going to a party. It is made of air and will not line your tummy. Bleurgh.
Offer to pay a taxi driver in songs performed by the kerbside. They don't accept this as legal tender.
Drink Drambuie. EVER.
Have a lovely Sunday!
xxx
Anyway, I am a lucky girl. I know this. Last night, being a Saturday, there were a lot of anti- Valentines nights happening - clubs, pubs and parties abounded like any other Saturday in London town. But we were off to little Jessie's birthday - the theme of which was 'ANDROGYNY.' A daunting prospect, as this is the sort of theme that actually requires you to have a think about what to wear (and also maybe a quick look at a dictionary)...Anyone who knows Ricky will know that he is rather an expert on these matters, an authority, if you will on gender studies and the like, he decided, in his infinite wisdom to go as a seahorse. Seahorses can and do change gender from m-f and back throughout their lives, also the men can carry pregnancies. This involved Ricky buying a purple sequined dress from a market stall (ox st, size 10) and then making a strange seahorse headdress and snout out of a pizza box and egg carton. Needless to say, he looked very good.
I had even more unkempt hair than usual - sticking out at least two foot from either side in different directions. I teemed this vagabond look with a tuxedo shirt and black jacket, bow tie and black trousers. The vampy red lips and black 'tasche were an afterthought, but most pleasing to behold. As you can tell, I didn't put much thought into it, I just thought about what was handy and shoved it on. Nice.
There were lots of lovely yooof at the party, and I felt as though I were 104 years old, clutching at my mug of wine and shuffling from chair to chair. Even at one point, after loosing the nice bottle of Bordeaux that we bought, turning down another glass of wine from a friendly stranger after scrutinising the bottle and declaring that I 'don't care for Merlot, and would try to stick to the Burgundy.' What a total ponce.
That statement was short-lived however, and I believe I came across that same smiling stranger a few hours later when foraging for contraband booze, coming across an dusty bottle of Drambuie and shrieking 'Ah! Loverly boozy potions!' in their face. I did, of course, drink everything in my path, resulting in a possibly unwise move to the Dalston Jazz Bar (always ace, always full) where I jived around til 3am then realised that I had to work at 9am.
And that is what I am doing right now. My brain is soggy and hurty, and I have just looked in the mirror to examine some of the stuff that is being held hostage by my hair. At the moment most of it seem unidentifiable. Hopefully just some sticky Drambuie or the remnants of an individual cheese souffle. Don't ask.
I will tell you tomorrow where we dined tonight and any other news. I am excited as it is Glee night and Ruthie will be here. I am also going to help Karen decorate her flat - possibly not as good as Glee, but still good.
Fancy dress - Do's and Don'ts:
DO:
Dress up. A bit. Go on! Make a little effort.
Bring plenty of delicious booze that you can clutch in your own bag all night (tramps handbag), chewing gum and possibly a Curly Wurly for the long journey home.
Keep re-applying your fake facial hair at regular intervals. Your persistence will pay off.
DON'T:
Eat only one small lightweight souffle before going to a party. It is made of air and will not line your tummy. Bleurgh.
Offer to pay a taxi driver in songs performed by the kerbside. They don't accept this as legal tender.
Drink Drambuie. EVER.
Have a lovely Sunday!
xxx
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
¿Por qué mi bolso tan grande?
Keen readers will have noticed that I have been off for 5 days in Spain seeing my lady Sandra and having a great time with Bea and Anna, gadding around Madrid, buying tat and drinking too much in general.
I am back on the blog wagon now, firmly ensconced, and I have many things to discuss (lucky, lucky you). Firstly; you can still SMOKE in Spain. I am an ignorant soul and assumed it was pretty much a no-no everywhere in Europe now. Not so, as I was soon to discover. Literally everyone smokes and they smoke anywhere and everywhere too. Bloody foreigners... bloody lucky foreigners. No, but really, it was pretty stinky. Didn't stop all of us joining in though, gross as it is. After holding hands with Bea all the way to Madrid on the plane, we managed to separate for a few hours before climbing into our double blow up bed on the floor in Sandra's room. And what a bed it was! Arguably, much more comfy than the one I sleep on at home, and certainly more comfy than the floor that Rick and I have been sharing for 6 months, complete with deceased mouse underneath, a bit like the princess and the pea.
Bea rolls and fidgets a lot in her sleep - but I got my own back by stealing all the covers and possibly trying to grope her (I will call it a 'hug' though, and no one can prove otherwise)... Anna and Sandra shared Sandra's bed, resulting in lots of hilarity where they had to tread on our bed in order to get out of the door to the loo in the night, resulting in bouncy castle like hilarity. How we laughed. Hmmm.
Madrid was, in all honesty, absolutely fantastic. It was surprisingly clean and fragrant (despite the smoking) and even though the exchange rate of pound:euro is shit, you can still eat and drink out a lot more cheaply than in London. On our first proper night Sandra took us to no less than 6 bars, each very different, among them; a traditional tapas bar/diner, with big 70's neon signs displaying various unidentifiable foods; a jazzy, smoky wine bar, a Gothic discotheque and Spanish 'pub' which doesn't get lively until about 3am, and doesn't close until late into the next morning. At this point it was at least 5am, and Anna Bea and I decided to stage a mini protest outside waiting for Sandra to come out. Anna had the hiccups pretty badly by this point and Bea and I had somehow got to discussing the merits of a delicious redhead. I, in my usual way, had decided that I was fluent in Spanish and decided to get chatting with locals. The shame. Am sure I said 'Guapo' a lot a 'Donde esta beeeeer??' a fair amount too.
Our days rolled on in this manner, namely staying out until dawn and waking at 1pm as a result. Most decadent and enjoyable, though now I must have some sort of detox as I have had nothing but wine, beer and cheese for several days now. Finding something to eat in Spain if you don't eat meat can be rather tricky. Anna managed to consume almost exclusively only Jamon and a disgusting, REPULSIVE drink made from 'tiger nuts' in Spanish - Chufa. This drink is very popular in Valencia in particular and is marketed as 'Chufi'. A tiger nut is not a nut, but a foul, fibrous tuber - described on their home website the most popular 'horchata' or vegetable milk drink. Anna was extremely pleased when she found this, and now I fear she will be buying it by the crate from abroad to satisfy her perverse lust of nutty milk juice.
Things that I have learned about Madrid:
The Prado is closed on a Monday. Bugger.
You can't eat dinner until 10pm, and even then you can't eat dinner unless Jamon is a feature (see Museo de Jamon)
People are very friendly, even if you are ranting at them in a made up hybrid of Italian, French and Spanish
Things that I have learned about myself:
I cannot actually speak Spanish
I cannot get onto a plane again
I have extremely high standards when it comes to using public convieniences
Tips for the future:
Don't talk about Franco/Fascist dictatorships at birthday parties
Go on more holidays with Anna and Bea as they don't mind that talking about my pathological fear of public toilets
AVOID CHUFI.
Lovely to be back,
Thanks for reading xxx
I am back on the blog wagon now, firmly ensconced, and I have many things to discuss (lucky, lucky you). Firstly; you can still SMOKE in Spain. I am an ignorant soul and assumed it was pretty much a no-no everywhere in Europe now. Not so, as I was soon to discover. Literally everyone smokes and they smoke anywhere and everywhere too. Bloody foreigners... bloody lucky foreigners. No, but really, it was pretty stinky. Didn't stop all of us joining in though, gross as it is. After holding hands with Bea all the way to Madrid on the plane, we managed to separate for a few hours before climbing into our double blow up bed on the floor in Sandra's room. And what a bed it was! Arguably, much more comfy than the one I sleep on at home, and certainly more comfy than the floor that Rick and I have been sharing for 6 months, complete with deceased mouse underneath, a bit like the princess and the pea.
Bea rolls and fidgets a lot in her sleep - but I got my own back by stealing all the covers and possibly trying to grope her (I will call it a 'hug' though, and no one can prove otherwise)... Anna and Sandra shared Sandra's bed, resulting in lots of hilarity where they had to tread on our bed in order to get out of the door to the loo in the night, resulting in bouncy castle like hilarity. How we laughed. Hmmm.
Madrid was, in all honesty, absolutely fantastic. It was surprisingly clean and fragrant (despite the smoking) and even though the exchange rate of pound:euro is shit, you can still eat and drink out a lot more cheaply than in London. On our first proper night Sandra took us to no less than 6 bars, each very different, among them; a traditional tapas bar/diner, with big 70's neon signs displaying various unidentifiable foods; a jazzy, smoky wine bar, a Gothic discotheque and Spanish 'pub' which doesn't get lively until about 3am, and doesn't close until late into the next morning. At this point it was at least 5am, and Anna Bea and I decided to stage a mini protest outside waiting for Sandra to come out. Anna had the hiccups pretty badly by this point and Bea and I had somehow got to discussing the merits of a delicious redhead. I, in my usual way, had decided that I was fluent in Spanish and decided to get chatting with locals. The shame. Am sure I said 'Guapo' a lot a 'Donde esta beeeeer??' a fair amount too.
Our days rolled on in this manner, namely staying out until dawn and waking at 1pm as a result. Most decadent and enjoyable, though now I must have some sort of detox as I have had nothing but wine, beer and cheese for several days now. Finding something to eat in Spain if you don't eat meat can be rather tricky. Anna managed to consume almost exclusively only Jamon and a disgusting, REPULSIVE drink made from 'tiger nuts' in Spanish - Chufa. This drink is very popular in Valencia in particular and is marketed as 'Chufi'. A tiger nut is not a nut, but a foul, fibrous tuber - described on their home website the most popular 'horchata' or vegetable milk drink. Anna was extremely pleased when she found this, and now I fear she will be buying it by the crate from abroad to satisfy her perverse lust of nutty milk juice.
Things that I have learned about Madrid:
The Prado is closed on a Monday. Bugger.
You can't eat dinner until 10pm, and even then you can't eat dinner unless Jamon is a feature (see Museo de Jamon)
People are very friendly, even if you are ranting at them in a made up hybrid of Italian, French and Spanish
Things that I have learned about myself:
I cannot actually speak Spanish
I cannot get onto a plane again
I have extremely high standards when it comes to using public convieniences
Tips for the future:
Don't talk about Franco/Fascist dictatorships at birthday parties
Go on more holidays with Anna and Bea as they don't mind that talking about my pathological fear of public toilets
AVOID CHUFI.
Lovely to be back,
Thanks for reading xxx
Wednesday, 3 February 2010
I don't normally beg for assistance, I rely on my own eyes to see, but right now they make no sense to me...
I am in a state of confusion. A strange feeling of helplessness has descended, leaving me flailing and flapping around, a bit like a tortoise who has foolishly rolled onto its back. Shit analogies aside, I really feel at a loose end at the moment. I think money is a factor. The fact that I don't have any is hardly a revelation, but it is still a shit feeling. I think I mentioned yesterday that whilst I was extracting a splinter from Rick's foot I daydreamed about a possible change in career? Last night as I was back at the helm of the foot, digging around with some blunt tweezers and a sterilised needle I though perhaps I could have been a surgeon, had I just tried a bit harder. I have a firm hand and a good eye for detail. Or maybe a professional splinter remover? I'm sure there is such a thing, or if not, I could be a pioneer. Maybe I'll get awards.
I also rather wish I'd trained as a hairdresser. The fact that I cut my own birds nest of hair is really all the training I have had, and so far my technique consists of me squinting into a mirror with the kitchen scissors and cutting into the great bush of tangles that I have somehow ended up with on my head. Qualification enough I think you'll agree! I am also good a bowl-cut fringes, and I have been know to add subtle layers to Ricks hair when I cut it, though I don't tell him that. Of all the jobs I could be doing, I am not sure how it ended up here. I think its because I can am paid to do something I care little about, that an untrained monkey could also do if offered some sort of delicious banana incentive. And it gives me the means to write all of the things I wish I could get paid for, but ultimately no one reads.
What an up-beat thought for the day! In other news, I have been trying to lure P+T to the neighbourhood. I have lined up two places for them to look at...I am excited. I have also written to both Clair and Chas, who are both off half-way around the world next week for a few months. I will miss them keenly.
Tomorrow is the day I go to Madrid... I am scared. I don't like flying, and I have a terrible fear that I won't fit into the aeroplane seats. This has not happened before, thank god, but I still entertain the possibility. I also fear that one of the stewards will offer me some sort of extender belt (not needed just yet) like they do for the obese on American airlines. I am now not sure if my dislike for air travel is to do with being in the air or my fat arse. A combination of both maybe? Either way, I hate to fly, I hate airports and I'm a miserable, worrying bastard.
We are only allowed hand luggage and I have observed the rules on what to bring religiously. I have collected tiny 50ml bottles for my toiletries and have put everything into clear plastic bags. This includes my socks, pants, tees and dresses. Obviously you don't have to do that, but I like to. More to do with the my obsessive compulsive disorder than anything else, but I like to think that the airport security staff are quietly impressed.
Apart from folding and bagging my possessions, I still need to give myself the regulation haircut that will make me look either more mental or less mental (it's a gamble) and check-in online. This will be hilarious, as because of the OCD, I need to check each detail, in turn, something like 600 times. Rather time consuming, and actually makes me feel less reassured than I was, but if I don't do it it will be my fault if the plane drops from the sky. Nice.
I guess writing the blog will be difficult in Spain, but I will try. Now off to eat more arctic roll, attack the birds nest and plunge the clogged up sink.
I will just leave you with one thought; if you could do any profession, what would it be?
So long my doves, my dears,
C x
I also rather wish I'd trained as a hairdresser. The fact that I cut my own birds nest of hair is really all the training I have had, and so far my technique consists of me squinting into a mirror with the kitchen scissors and cutting into the great bush of tangles that I have somehow ended up with on my head. Qualification enough I think you'll agree! I am also good a bowl-cut fringes, and I have been know to add subtle layers to Ricks hair when I cut it, though I don't tell him that. Of all the jobs I could be doing, I am not sure how it ended up here. I think its because I can am paid to do something I care little about, that an untrained monkey could also do if offered some sort of delicious banana incentive. And it gives me the means to write all of the things I wish I could get paid for, but ultimately no one reads.
What an up-beat thought for the day! In other news, I have been trying to lure P+T to the neighbourhood. I have lined up two places for them to look at...I am excited. I have also written to both Clair and Chas, who are both off half-way around the world next week for a few months. I will miss them keenly.
Tomorrow is the day I go to Madrid... I am scared. I don't like flying, and I have a terrible fear that I won't fit into the aeroplane seats. This has not happened before, thank god, but I still entertain the possibility. I also fear that one of the stewards will offer me some sort of extender belt (not needed just yet) like they do for the obese on American airlines. I am now not sure if my dislike for air travel is to do with being in the air or my fat arse. A combination of both maybe? Either way, I hate to fly, I hate airports and I'm a miserable, worrying bastard.
We are only allowed hand luggage and I have observed the rules on what to bring religiously. I have collected tiny 50ml bottles for my toiletries and have put everything into clear plastic bags. This includes my socks, pants, tees and dresses. Obviously you don't have to do that, but I like to. More to do with the my obsessive compulsive disorder than anything else, but I like to think that the airport security staff are quietly impressed.
Apart from folding and bagging my possessions, I still need to give myself the regulation haircut that will make me look either more mental or less mental (it's a gamble) and check-in online. This will be hilarious, as because of the OCD, I need to check each detail, in turn, something like 600 times. Rather time consuming, and actually makes me feel less reassured than I was, but if I don't do it it will be my fault if the plane drops from the sky. Nice.
I guess writing the blog will be difficult in Spain, but I will try. Now off to eat more arctic roll, attack the birds nest and plunge the clogged up sink.
I will just leave you with one thought; if you could do any profession, what would it be?
So long my doves, my dears,
C x
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
As I was levering a splinter that had burrowed its way into Ricky's foot this morn, my mind began to wander a bit. Could I, maybe, have become a doctor? Yes, I have no maths or science qualifications at all and blood makes me squeamish, but it does seem rather rewarding. And well paid. At the moment I am not well paid. This, unfortunately, affects many aspects of life. I can't be equal with friends or my boyfriend, I can't afford to help my sister out much when she needs it, and I can only pledge to a handful of charities rather than the 10 or 12 that really feel strongly about.
This doesn't mean that I don't know how fortunate I am just to have a job (albeit a very shit one) and to be earning at all. I know that I'm lucky. Who else gets to moderate chat rooms and forums full of comments posted by the mentally ill and sexually depraved? Ah, lucky, lucky me. Quite apart from all of the amazing stuff that I get to learn each day, like, new swearwords, a novel story about vomiting perhaps, and someones conspiracy theory that Jordan is secretly the head of MI5, I also get to spend a lot of time reading and writing. Things that I do genuinely enjoy. This is how come I can blog to you each day...Nice.
Conspiracy theories aside, the websites that I work on do deal with some very important issues. For example, is Kerry Katona the UK's worst mum? Shoulder pads - yes or no? Should read headed people and the obese be sterilised? Also current affairs; why does Gordon Brown have that funny eye? Is David Cameron hot, or does his face look like melted cheese? Peter Andre for PM? These are just a handful of the issues buzzing around my head each day. Food for thought, I think you'll agree.
Speaking of professions, I had a rather uncomfortable night, wracked with dreams that I was taking part in a beauty pageant. This, as most of you will agree, is a most unlikely scenario. In the dream I was the only one would had no makeup on, and very disturbingly, when I looked down at my legs I saw that they were carpeted with coarse black hair. Not what my legs look like in reality, by the way, but not too far off either... in the dream, I had to sing as my special talent, but each time I opened my mouth nothing would come out, save a tiny croak. I persevered for a while, croaking away, until I was booed off stage. This sums up my life quite well I recon. What a nice subconscious I've got. Still, it could have been worse. I might have woken up in a pool of wee!
One last thing before I get back to my job in the virtual world, Dalai Lama: Hot or Not? A life of abstinence means he's taken really good care of himself. I would.
Have a lovely day xxx
This doesn't mean that I don't know how fortunate I am just to have a job (albeit a very shit one) and to be earning at all. I know that I'm lucky. Who else gets to moderate chat rooms and forums full of comments posted by the mentally ill and sexually depraved? Ah, lucky, lucky me. Quite apart from all of the amazing stuff that I get to learn each day, like, new swearwords, a novel story about vomiting perhaps, and someones conspiracy theory that Jordan is secretly the head of MI5, I also get to spend a lot of time reading and writing. Things that I do genuinely enjoy. This is how come I can blog to you each day...Nice.
Conspiracy theories aside, the websites that I work on do deal with some very important issues. For example, is Kerry Katona the UK's worst mum? Shoulder pads - yes or no? Should read headed people and the obese be sterilised? Also current affairs; why does Gordon Brown have that funny eye? Is David Cameron hot, or does his face look like melted cheese? Peter Andre for PM? These are just a handful of the issues buzzing around my head each day. Food for thought, I think you'll agree.
Speaking of professions, I had a rather uncomfortable night, wracked with dreams that I was taking part in a beauty pageant. This, as most of you will agree, is a most unlikely scenario. In the dream I was the only one would had no makeup on, and very disturbingly, when I looked down at my legs I saw that they were carpeted with coarse black hair. Not what my legs look like in reality, by the way, but not too far off either... in the dream, I had to sing as my special talent, but each time I opened my mouth nothing would come out, save a tiny croak. I persevered for a while, croaking away, until I was booed off stage. This sums up my life quite well I recon. What a nice subconscious I've got. Still, it could have been worse. I might have woken up in a pool of wee!
One last thing before I get back to my job in the virtual world, Dalai Lama: Hot or Not? A life of abstinence means he's taken really good care of himself. I would.
Have a lovely day xxx
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Fear of the Scare ball and birthday tales a-plenty!
Am I faltering already? I am only in the second week and already I have become slack. Soggy and slack like foul old toast. Oh well, I am resolved now - the blog is my source of great pleasure for me and I will be writing it everyday. Even if no one reads it! The last few days have been lovely, exciting and stressful in equal measure. Being in Cambridge has lots of good points; parents, Helen, Pippa, evenings with the lovelies in the pub. The Avon lady calling round with my mum's assorted goodies which means that I get my delivery of shower gels and deodorants to see me through. It also has its bad points, including but not limited to; the Grand Arcade, the C1 bus, the tossers milling in and out of Elizabeth Arden and Ted Baker, all of the secrets I have that echo and bounce off of the streets. Especially the area directly surrounding the Kings St Run... but the less said about that the better.
I have also been on nights - which is a weird scenario indeed. I become strange and dark-eyed and start to really enjoy watching BBC Parliament channel at 4.30am. I also become highly sensitive to the 'Scare ball' (the sun) and going outside in general, unless it is to check for intruders (it is easy to get a little paranoid on nights) or to stare out of my window to spy on urban foxes. By the time the scare ball rose on my last shift it was Friday, 6.30am and I handed in my last piece of work for the week. I prompt slept til 3pm and awoke to find my pillow sodden with dribble and my hair standing on end, creating the effect of someone who has undergone a severe electric shock. I wasn't too disturbed however, as this is a normal look for me.
On Friday pm I headed to Mill Road's Geldart pub for the gorgeous Rosie O'D's birthday celebrations. I had one pint and was totally pissed so I bribed the delicious Andrea for a lift home in her wagon. What a lovely girlie she is. On Saturday I finally headed back to the FP and to my glorious flat, which I had been missing terribly. P and T came round and we headed to Marylebone for Chish 'n Fips with Clair Eskandary to celebrate her 29th year. God, I am so greedy for the fips. Tom and I went for the classic holy trilogy: Haddock, chips and mushies. YUM. Whilst Pippa and Rick (who sat on a slightly annexed table - a kiddies table if you will) and feasted upon foul scampy nuggets. It was a rather delightful picture though, I must say.
This morning we had eggs and watched the best programme on TV (Pippa was already a big fan) 'Take me out'. Tom, most understandably, was rather skeptical about it. Which is fair enough. We headed to Mare Street for Chas' birthday and parted ways with P and T, who had a hot date with a £900 chair. How times have changed. Chas look amazing and IS amazing. I was very happy to be able to give her the present that she gave me 10 years ago on my 18th when she was travelling in Oz - the famous 'Nobody knows I'm a lesbian' t-shirt. Tis a goodun indeed.
Twas a lovely avo, and on the way home Ricky and I went Mo'sons and bought a deliciously old school dinner of giant Yorkshire puds and arctic roll.
The cardboard Bavaria has been holding up well - though Rick's legs hang quite far over the end. Still - no dead mouse underfoot seems to be a Price worth paying.
Now, it has gone midnight, I have just finished work, and I am thinking of the week ahead. Ruth for dinner with Glee goodness, Madrid on Thursday! Hurrah indeed.
Things I have learned this week:
I have also been on nights - which is a weird scenario indeed. I become strange and dark-eyed and start to really enjoy watching BBC Parliament channel at 4.30am. I also become highly sensitive to the 'Scare ball' (the sun) and going outside in general, unless it is to check for intruders (it is easy to get a little paranoid on nights) or to stare out of my window to spy on urban foxes. By the time the scare ball rose on my last shift it was Friday, 6.30am and I handed in my last piece of work for the week. I prompt slept til 3pm and awoke to find my pillow sodden with dribble and my hair standing on end, creating the effect of someone who has undergone a severe electric shock. I wasn't too disturbed however, as this is a normal look for me.
On Friday pm I headed to Mill Road's Geldart pub for the gorgeous Rosie O'D's birthday celebrations. I had one pint and was totally pissed so I bribed the delicious Andrea for a lift home in her wagon. What a lovely girlie she is. On Saturday I finally headed back to the FP and to my glorious flat, which I had been missing terribly. P and T came round and we headed to Marylebone for Chish 'n Fips with Clair Eskandary to celebrate her 29th year. God, I am so greedy for the fips. Tom and I went for the classic holy trilogy: Haddock, chips and mushies. YUM. Whilst Pippa and Rick (who sat on a slightly annexed table - a kiddies table if you will) and feasted upon foul scampy nuggets. It was a rather delightful picture though, I must say.
This morning we had eggs and watched the best programme on TV (Pippa was already a big fan) 'Take me out'. Tom, most understandably, was rather skeptical about it. Which is fair enough. We headed to Mare Street for Chas' birthday and parted ways with P and T, who had a hot date with a £900 chair. How times have changed. Chas look amazing and IS amazing. I was very happy to be able to give her the present that she gave me 10 years ago on my 18th when she was travelling in Oz - the famous 'Nobody knows I'm a lesbian' t-shirt. Tis a goodun indeed.
Twas a lovely avo, and on the way home Ricky and I went Mo'sons and bought a deliciously old school dinner of giant Yorkshire puds and arctic roll.
The cardboard Bavaria has been holding up well - though Rick's legs hang quite far over the end. Still - no dead mouse underfoot seems to be a Price worth paying.
Now, it has gone midnight, I have just finished work, and I am thinking of the week ahead. Ruth for dinner with Glee goodness, Madrid on Thursday! Hurrah indeed.
Things I have learned this week:
- finding tiny bottles for self-miniaturising one's toiletries is no mean feat.
- feet get very cold when they hang over the bed
- I am greedy for cuisine of the 1970's.
Goodnight all!
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
They call me the Wild Rose...
Today has been a long, long day. I managed to miss lovely Ruthie this morn as I had fitful mouse-trauma dreams all night long. I was also terribly afeared about our cardboard bed collapsing. Luckily, it did not, though that may be because I rigid and motionless - paralysed with the night-terrors!
So I slept in, and at 9.30am I made a mad dash for the train back to Cambs. The best part of the day was listening to Nick Cave's Murder Ballads album on the train. I stepped off of the train to find the whole of the town centre plunged into power-cut chaos. Shopkeepers stood languidly leaning against their door jambs, smoking and deciding whether or not to lock up for the day at 11am. It was a charming olde worlde picture of a Cambridge working day.
I paraded around for a bit then found my way home on the number 2 for many exciting family treats (pasta, green tea, milky way and US Apprentice) then we all watched Charlie Brooker's Newswipe and learned a bit about the world of 'infotainment'! Excellently good in every sense.
Now I am doing a night shift and monitoring the fatties in the US and reading their tales of bum-gravy woe. Oh the humanity!
I may also do some online shopping and unnecessary bagel eating. Scrumdiddlyumptious as my daddy dearest would say!
Goodnight me precious'!
So I slept in, and at 9.30am I made a mad dash for the train back to Cambs. The best part of the day was listening to Nick Cave's Murder Ballads album on the train. I stepped off of the train to find the whole of the town centre plunged into power-cut chaos. Shopkeepers stood languidly leaning against their door jambs, smoking and deciding whether or not to lock up for the day at 11am. It was a charming olde worlde picture of a Cambridge working day.
I paraded around for a bit then found my way home on the number 2 for many exciting family treats (pasta, green tea, milky way and US Apprentice) then we all watched Charlie Brooker's Newswipe and learned a bit about the world of 'infotainment'! Excellently good in every sense.
Now I am doing a night shift and monitoring the fatties in the US and reading their tales of bum-gravy woe. Oh the humanity!
I may also do some online shopping and unnecessary bagel eating. Scrumdiddlyumptious as my daddy dearest would say!
Goodnight me precious'!
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