BBQ



After the cooking we toasted marshmallows on old twigs of elderflower. Loving that brown-on-the-outside and runny-on-the-inside tooth rotting sugar rush.

Online dating

As an observer of the ritual that is dating (we in Britain seem to have embraced it post-Sex in the City), it seems that things have changed. No longer does the chosen way to find a date involve hanging out in pubs and bars steadily getting pissed, trying to impres likely candidates with your quick wit and banter. Oh no.

All my friends are now signed up to online date sites. Maybe I need to clarify that. Most of my friends who are 30 and above are signed up. I suspect that for those in their 20s can still get away with the pissed in pubs methodology - being tipsy is only cute in that age group.

Anyway, online dating - a. its addictive, b. its nerve racking (judging by how much time I spend discussing it, even though I'm not involved), c. in the end you just have to take the plunge and meet some of the total strangers to see if they are indeed anything like their picture or half as witty as their profile would make them seem.

I'm now waiting for the fallout. There is bound to be some - dates which had to be ditched in the middle by climbing out the toilet window, people who used the picture of their good looking cousin instead of their own, and stuff. I'll report back when I get the juice...

Ceramics Class





I've been going to ceramics class. Its a little light relief from the working week. Something to look forward to, something that takes me out of the computer-based world and back into a light hearted, practical and messy environment that encourages a little bit of creativity.

For some reason I've been making pots with small bottoms. And the other thing that I wanted to do was to make some pots for my cacti.

Things that have been stopping me blogging...

Oops I've had an unintentional blogging holiday. Life outside is somehow keeping me from virtual life, partially through its crushing mundaneity.

1. Working - after spending all day with the computer at work the last thing I want to do is work on the computer at night. Also working takes up an inordinate amount of life time.
2. Euro 2008 - while I wouldn't say I am a massive fan of the football game, boyfiend is and since the games are on the box we've been staying in and watching it. Computer wifi interfers with the digital TV.
3. Longest day - I love it as the days stretch longer and longer towards the longest day - evenings outside in the garden tinkering, or sitting, or barbecuing (any excuse this year, even when it hasn't been very warm or when there aren't many people to partake - had about 6 so far).
4. Babysitting the niece and nephew - weekend spent keeping little people occupied - knackering!

So there we go, those are the excuses, if you'll have them.

Marmalade

Bails and I met for a late breakfast at a cafe near my house that I wanted to try. Its the first place I've discovered in the year and half that I've owned the house that actually seemed like a place I really want to go. It was small, run by a couple, had unmatching wooden tables. They did an English breakfast or a continental. Coffee like it comes in France (as opposed to in Starbucks where you can have big, bigger or biggest) - a moderate cup, with a saucer. We sat outside. The sun shone. People went past on the way to and from Bruce Castle Park - walking dogs, playing tennis, walking for fitness, going home from shopping. There was a constant stream of customers, but we still managed to stay for a continental breakfast with fried eggs extra with coffee and then a further pot of tea. I love finding a cafe like this in Tottenham - a 5 minute walk from home.

Bails came and looked at houses with me sometimes - we saw some really pokey ones, with bathrooms cut out of kitchens on the ground floor, dark corridors, in areas where people left junk on the street and disaffected youth hanging on street corners. When we saw what has become my house I had a sign of relief - it had space, interesting layout, light and large hallway and an upstairs bathroom (which had become important luxuries during the search). I could see myself there. Bails was very nervous that I couldn't move fast enough to get it (although she didn't say so at the time, only later). I'm probably almost starting to feel at home here. I've gotten used to its location - it isn't as far off the beaten track as people who don't live here think. The only negative is that there isn't really anywhere to go that's nearby. Apart from this cafe (woo hoo). Now all we need is some decent restaurants and a nice bar.

Hypothesis

a. Birds like cherries. (Cherry tree at end of garden is hosting a huge number of feasting feathered beasties.)
b. I like cherries. (I can eat a whole bag of cherries in one sitting.)
c. I am an bird.

Springwatch

My overwhelming thought watching this is that the natural world is a cruel and dangerous place. We've had chicks dropped out of the nest by unfamiliar males, weasles jumping into the nest and eating the last remaining baby, fledglings jumping out of the nest to their deaths, mothers abandoning the young, attacks by competing birds. More like a thriller.

I like to ride my bicycle

Tottenham Green Fair. Cycle London had brought an odd assortment of cycles (not all of them bi) that kids, generally, were having a great time riding. Some were difficult to balance on, hard to steer and odd looking. We laughed.

The Nun and the Lift

The blue nun (as in colour of her habit, not the wine) was uncharacteristically pushy - launching herself through the closing lift doors all elbows and outreached hands, nearly grabbing the woman ahead of her's right breast in her eagerness to get into the lift carriage. Its not the behaviour one expects of someone in her vocation. Perhaps I'm being prejudiced - I only have past experience of one other blue nun to draw on. Perhaps there are many pushy nuns out there, but I doubt it.

Diary

I have a very North London diary apparently. Its from Paperchase, week to view, with a stripy cover. Very North London?! What does that mean? Kooky? Quirky? Alternative? Whatever.

Thought

Today, while washing up I thought it would be excellent if you could blog by thinking. You could do a real stream of consciousness. You could blog while you worked. It would be great. I'd blog a lot more I reckon.

Office Toilet Traumas

3 cubicles. My preferred stall is on the left against the wall. This stall was occupied. My second choice stall would be on the right - while this is closest to the door it is farthest from the other occupant. Unfortunately the seat in this cubicle is lose on one side and therefore subjects the sitter to alarming slippage at inopportune moments. So the only other choice, or rather option, was in the middle, next to the other occupant. I hate peeing right next to someone. Their noises put me off. Actually I would rather they make noises than be silent, when I imagine them sitting there silently waiting for me to begin and finish before they dare to relax, listening...

Around the Garden - a tour of the blooms

Gardening jobs

Trimmed the tree
Trimmed the hedge
Mowed the lawn
Did some weeding

Amazing how much interest doing some yard work in the front garden can raise. Many offers of help (men's perception that women need help), lots of discussion about the good job being done, discussion of the tools being used.

Psycho Buildings

Caught sight of this at the Hayward Gallery Private View this evening. I want to see this.





Telegraph - series of pictures of the exhibits

Nearly

Woman with dog standing at the lights waiting to cross. Dog is very interested in the smell on the traffic light post. Cocked his leg and pee'd on it, narrowly missing owner's canvas shoes.

The Fly

I'm plagued. I'm starting to feel that this is one of those horror houses that innocent and hopeful young families move into in movies. They start out all bright and painted and slowly the house starts to show its dark side - shadows seeping out from under doorways that lead into cellars that are alive. My house had a rat living under the floor. It died when I poisoned it. It stank. Then the flies started. Big fat blue bottles, in the middle of winter. Finally it all went away and I forgot...

Until I came in from work one evening slung on the kitchen light and out of the corner of my eye saw a something slink back under the cabinets. Had to be a rat. More poison. More fretting. Called the council out. Ratman came and said I was doing everything right. Eventually it died. It didn't stink so badly. There weren't so many flies. It was all over again.

The last few days I have been plagued by flies. It started after the fruitflies started - they lay eggs in compost of house plants. I think I'm repotting stuff this weekend to deal with it. But now I have regular flies. Tonnes of them. There's no bad smells, but they are certainly eminating from somewhere. Probably something dead under the floorboards. Somewhere.

House of death.

Bake a Cake Day

Someone came up with this great scheme at work. No problem, I learned to bake when I was young and know that (as long as the oven is right and I pay proper attention in the cooking) I can make a good cake. Making the decision on the day before what exactly to bake was a bit more of a problem. Should it be something quick and easy - taste over beauty for a quick win (Amy, my sister's solution), or something complex and impressive to show off my baking prowess. Should it be something I've made before or something new. Should I please myself (i.e. chocolate) or think of the audience and do something else. Decisions decisions. Such a lot riding on it. What started out as fun-to-do, turned into a high pressure win/lose activity.

In the supermarket I still couldn't make a decision so bought the makings of rice crispy cakes, possibly making those and some other kind of cupcake, and cheesecake - in my mind it was topped with lemon curd and a drift of raspberries, and chocolate cake (couldn't decide whether it should be devil's food cake, brownies or something simpler). Got home with far too many ingredients and sat down to decide.

Started coming up with plausible excuses. Couldn't be bothered not being one of them. Kind of settled on something like I left it on the tube without realising, or someone knocked it out of my hand and it was ruined, or I was mugged.

Finally at 10.30 I stopped quibbling and baked a chocolate cake. Double sifted the flour (excellent tip for light sponge). Finally managed not to overcook something in my overly efficient fan-assisted oven (taken at least a year and a half to get used to it). Topped it with thin layer of butter icing and raspberries all over.

Next day having dragged it across London, not leaving it, not having it knocked out of my hands, put it out with the others - fortunately nobody else had baked chocolate, and nobody used fruit. So it was unique. There were marzipan rings, South African plaited donuts, Victoria sponge, cheesecake, flapjacks, banana bread, chocolate muffins, lemon cake and date and walnut loaf. My strategy was to have a very small piece of many of them. Others were going for big peices of everything. Others couldn't face it at 11.00am.

Ever had too much cake, even know that such a state existed? That's me today. Too much cake.

Parcel

I got an unable-to-deliver-parcel notice on the 12th May (day before my birthday). The only time I get parcels is when I've ordered somethig online, or an aunt or my sister sends me something. Due to the proximity to my birthday I deduced it was from my sister. I can never get to the post office collection until the weekend so I had 4 days to wait before knowing what it was. Still I felt it stretches the birthday celebrations out for longer which is always a good thing.

Saturday came, got up earlier than normal (have to get to the collection by 12.00), felt bright and breezy, and went off to get my parcel. Hoping for something exciting from someone. When I got there the lady behind the screen easily found me a little green box from British Gas which contained 4 energy efficient lightbulbs. Disappointed. Muchly. Not made any better becuase I have already changed over all my lightbulbs and have a stack of spares.

Tottenham folks

Exercising the dog (no, strike that), relieving the dog, on the local council block's scrap of grass. After the dog has done its business its back to the house - schlepping along the road in pink slippers and dressing gown.