I know, I know......

But I can't face this. Bloody weather. At least we have Valencia in September to look forward to. Days of 23C! How will we cope?

On a brighter note, John's going down!!!!! And my self-imposed exile may be over. Maybe I should have used my years in the wilderness to write a book, or at the very least a pamphlet. If Maxine McKew wins John Howards seat of Bennelong, I will send her flowers. I loved her when she was on the ABC.

In other bleeding-heart liberal news, I am abandoning my inherent dislike of Australian Male Cultcha and going to see Damien play his last football match tomorrow. Here is the team list (seriously):

South London side:

FB: Marty Chadders Jezza
HB: Conrad Dicko Scotty
C: Birdman Speersy Chocka
HF: Naughto Saundo Crabs
FF: Youngy Matesy Hollers
Rucks: Benny E Pos BJ
Bench: Patty, Frank, Oli, Goody, Lukey M, Sac

I am pretty sure that Lukey M and Frank are only on the bench until they can come up with decent nicknames. This will be the third year running that Damien is playing his last game, so I am slightly sceptical, but we will be having a picnic and (possibly) drinking white wine, so it shouldn't be too unbearable.

So a bit of a catch-up is in order, I have been slack, for various reasons too mind-boggling uninteresting to go into here.

A few interesting things (well, interesting to me, if you don’t find it interesting, you can leave this blog now J ) have happened the last few weeks. Miss Bernie was on a three-week trip to our sodden shores. I was lovely to see her - she is always such fun, and is always generous with her hair. Paul, Bernie and I went for fish and chips (and champagne! How louche.) at the Golden Hind. Bernie revealed that Lucy has been frequenting the Golden Hind. I was stunned – Oi Knowles! Hands off! It’s our restaurant, not yours! Paul, myself, and Simon and planning on reclaiming it next week.

We also had a big night out with Miss B in London’s so distressed it’s trendy East End. A big group of us met up at The Commercial. It’s a pretty cool pub – more bar than pub, but I really liked it. I suppose that’s not all that surprising as Maria who runs the ‘Friendly Society’, also owns the Commercial. And it’s very Fitzroy. Lucy and Brock were there, as was Mark, Jari, Stuie,and Simon. We ended up in some random curry-house for dinner, then hit a few more bars. Paul and I ended up sharing a taxi home in the wee hours with Lucy and Brock, after standing in the rain for 20 minutes (note to self: must always carry umbrella).

Last Saturday saw my contribution to the Summer of Food ^{tm reg}. We met Damien and went to Hakkasan. It was lovely. Really good food and the fitout is very sexy…. We then went to a party in London’s what-do-you-mean-it-was-bombed-in-the-blitz-it-looks-like-it-was-bombed-30-minutes-ago East End. The party was fun though.

Brighton Pride was on - it is responsible for changing my opinions on both kilt-wearers and blackberry users.

We did our normal beachside lunch, then went to the park. We amanaged to get an earlyish train back to London, then Paul and I set about cutting Damien's hair. I reckon we did allright.

It all kicks off (The Summer of Food, that is)

The Thursday before last, the first official event of The Summer of food ^{(tm reg)} started, so it was only fitting that the weather was about 19C, cloudy and showering for the vast majority of it. Damien, Paul and I met at London’s Waterloo International (soon to be replaced by St Pancras International) to catch the 20:15 Eurosta to Paris. In ‘leisure select’ class, no less. Having travelling by business class recently, the only differences between the two iare the name, the dulcet tones of American tourists (’Hey! Where are you from? We’re from Missouri!!’) and a much higher proportion of manmade fibre.

I love the Eurostar. It eliminates the long trip to the airport, the waiting around and the buying of aftershave you don’t particularly need. The trip itself is so much more civilised, and you don't get off at the other end feeling everything you’ve drunk in the last week is being sucked out of your pores by the airconditioning.

By the time we had finished out complimentary champagne(!), we were speeding towards Paris. The section of track from Waterloo to somewhere in the middle of Kent is so embarrassingly slow though. It’s the European rail equivalent of training wheels. That will all change when the high speed line is finished in a few months. (And it’s only taken 13 years to build). Call me a socialist if you like, but I’m a great believer in government investment in infrastructure, and don’t see why lower taxes for for high-income earners or for private equity funds in the city (5% they pay!!) should be a priority, while a worthwhile project like this takes years to complete.

So we were in Paris by 11pm, and in our rented Marais apartment by 11:30. And out for a drink by 12:30. (Someone wanted to unpack). What’s not to like about that?



Friday morning I went on the croissant and pain au chocolate run while the two sleeping beauties lay in bed. After the coffee, orange juice and pastries, we were off to the Hotel Balzac. For a very long lunch at the 3 Michelin-starred Pierre Gagniare. I am not quite sure what makes a 3-star restaurant, but the service was exemplary and the food was excellent. We had (amongst other things) the most gorgeous bottle of burgundy. Burgundy is the new Jacob’s Creek. You read it here first. We were slightly worried about the fate of the waitress who poured some red into Damien’s white wine glass. We didn’t lay eyes on her after that and we think she may have been guillotined.



The rest of our time was spent wandering around the Marais. Most of my time was spent watching Paul and Damien shop. I also spent a great deal of my time making coffee and buying pastries for breakfast. But I’m not bitter at all. I quite enjoyed going out and trying to find a better boulangerie every day. Paris is so beautiful that just walking around is pleasure enough.



Our apartment was a little 'Moulin Rougue'-esque garret in the the Marais - it was up six flights of stairs (125 of them!). And did we know it a couple of times. But it did have a lovely terrace with views over to Montmatre in one direction and the Pompidou Centre in the other. It also had quite detailed instructions on everything, even down to expected toilet etiquette. I kid you not. And I thought my boyfriend was anal.



Saturday we met up with some French boys we know for dinner and then a bit of a dance – as you do. It was fun. So much fun that we met them again on Sunday night for something to eat and a walk around Pigalle, where we were abused in French for being gay. Nice.



Monday morning there was just enought time to fit in another lunch, this time of fillet steaka nd sauteed potatoes for us all, washed down witha 7-y-o bottle of St Emilion. The Bordeaux cost what we'd normally pay for a bottle of plonk in London. So unfair!

Saturdays mornings are for Breakfast

First get your brioche, eggs, strawberries and creme fraiche.

Beat the eggs and add some milk.

Cut the brioche, dip it in the mixture and fry it in some butter.



Add strawberries, some creme fraiche and some maple syrup. EAT.

Beautifully Provincial.

I am currently in Strasbourg for work. Again. I really like Strasbourg. Work not so much. This time I had to fly into Frankfurt. I don’t have much to say about Frankfurt. The plane was half empty on the way over, which perhaps is an indication of why I don’t have much to say about Frankfurt.

Instead of getting the plane back and spending all that time waiting around in airports, I've decided to get the train back. Carbon footprint and all that. I’m catching the TGV from Strasbourg to Paris, not just any TGV, but the fastest train on the planet (cue argument about which train is fastest). I am excited. I think that officially makes me a nerd. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t make me a train spotter unless I write down the number of the train. I am also going business on Eurostar (cheaper to London than the airfare), so my boss is sortof happy too.

This is the first time I’ve been here in the summer and it’s very beautiful – lots of forests, and motorways. The motorways aren’t beautiful, but they are through the forest and the forests certainly are. I saw a deer gambolling through the fields on the way from Frankfurt to Strasbourg, too. I was hoping to eat venison for dinner, but had to make do with a healthy salad of foie gras, smoked cured duck, and ham.

I saw one of those brown tourist route signs for the Maginot Line on the way here. I wasn’t sure if it was part of a larger tourist route for great defence failures of the past 100 years or not, but I suppose it’s certainly one way of taking a negative and turning it into a positive.

Saturday I had to rise at the ungodly hour or 4:50am (that was 3:50 by my poor UK body clock) and be at work by 6:00am. I was back in Strasbourg by 15:00, but absolutely knackered. I even had a nap to compensate. I went out to have a good look around and do some shopping, but my heart wasn’t really in it. Today was a lot better, but the whole conversion process was running late, so our project lunch was cancelled. The upside of that wasn’t all that bad, was I didn’t have to spend an afternoon with techies with no personality. It's about as appealling as having your teeth pulled without anesthetic.

Last night I got to eat with a colleague form our client company. He’s quite good fun, but I feel I have to be a bit guarded around him, so it wasn’t a lot of fun for me. And we hadn’t booked anywhere, so we had to settle for an ok restaurant, which just about killed me. My steak was fine, but the frites and vegetables weren’t great. Sigh. And there is great food here, it seemed like such a missed opportunity.

Anyway, today I got to lie in the sun, which was pleasant. I had a conversation in pidgin French with the nice baguette lady at lunchtime (‘Tu American?’ ‘Je suis Australien’ ‘ D’accord. Much better’ – ouch!), it turned out she was from the town where our factory is, so she was on for a chat. Somehow she spotted my weak spot and got me to buy an éclair as well, but I wouldn’t buy a Tarte au fruit rouge.

I was turned away from the Cathedral today too, as they were ordaining priests, and I think they thought the boys might reconsider their vows or something if I went in. (Actually they had bouncers and no-one who wasn’t wearing a suit wasn’t getting in).

I called into what I thought was the new Gare (railway station) for the TGV. In fact it’s just a new façade for the old staion, but underneath the station has been redone as well. It’s quite beautiful and a lovely piece of contemporary architecture.


Of course Strasbourg is all about Europe as well, and I was glad to see there was some room left for expansion here, all that's required is to remove the European flags, and add the new members.



Strasbourg is all very nice, but I have been a bit bored. Friday night at the restaurant I ate at, the guy on the next table was Australian. He was phoning a friend and telling them he had had enough of Strasbourg. I though he was crazy, but after 3 day here, I feel a bit the same, it’s very beautiful, but it’s quite small and provincial, nothing seems to be going on. Maybe I just expect too much?

The Cathedral is amazing though. It absolutely dominates the city and you can see why medieveal peasants would have been astounded by it. I think sometimes we've lost the ability to be astounded.

It still remains with me

Bad blogger. I think - not much of note happened last week - or did it? It all seems to be work at the moment. I'm trying hard to figure out who's on the side of the forces of good in the new office and trying to keep everyone one side. I'm not entirely sure how if it's working at all, but I seem to be keeping my new boss happy, and he's the one who hands out pay rises, so here's hoping.

Last week seemed to be full of emails exhanging photos from Iz's birthday weekend. Mine are here. It was a lovely weekend, full of good food, lots of beer and wine, and nice people. Sperlonga was an excellent choice. The old town is closed to traffic, and the hotel was right in the centre of it all. Paul and I hadn't seen Harold and Sophie and Jean for ages, so we had a good catch up and we finally got to see Steve's house in Gaeta. I seemed to spend a large proportion of the weekend playing beach tennis with H and Sophie's boys, which was good fun. They are really nice kids, no tantrums or whining at all.

Iz and I went shopping in the Rome's Centro Storico Monday morning , ostensibly to find me a birthday present from the Romans. I had decided on a man-bag, so we spent the morning checking out stores around the Spanish Steps and Via Condotti. We didn't have much luck though, as I wasn't able to find the bag I wanted. I was a bit worried that Iz might have thought I was the world's fussiest shopper, but she probably knew that already. And it was nice to have her all to myself for the morning.

A few observations about Rome (or things I'd forgotten since living there):

• Unfeasibly attractive shop assistants!! But I still didn't buy anything.


• They've cleaned the turtle fountain - it used to be so grotty and grey!!


• If we ever go back to live, I'd stack on the weight again - the food is just too good.


• I'd forgotten that heat and how nice it is to be able to go to the beach.


• It's just so beautiful

The rest of the week was spent freezing in the cold snap - my winter coat even made a reappearance. Mitch and Susie arrived back from Scotland and Amsterdam on Saturday. Paul and I went shopping and managed to find a manbag that met all criteria in Selfridges. We then caught up with Damien and Mark to see Jindabyne. I love Laura Linney. And she and Gabriel Byrne were outstanding. And the movie was very good (as you asked, 8.8/10). But it made me (and Damien) homesick. The birdsong. The bush. The laconic humour. It was very haunting and beautiful.

While we were watching that Mitch and Susie were watching 'The Lady from Dubuque', with Dame Maggie Smith (insert comment about national treasure/living legend here). Paul and I had seen it couple of months ago. I found it difficult to engage with, but Maggie Smith was excellent. Mitch and Susie really enjoyed it and then met us afterwards for a drink at The Edge. Which now has gogo boys on a Saturday night. How embarassment. We also saw our first fight (well - a bit of agressiveness and pushing, that's a fight for gay men) in a gay bar ever. Imagine.

Sunday I pumped up the bike tyres (Paul had to go to the shop to do his) and we cycled over to the ponds at Highgate for swim. It was lovely lying in the sun, but I believe it gave me a mild dose of hayfever. And I still hate swimming in that brackish water. I always think I'm going to get some weird stomach bug and die from internal bleeding.

Monday night Michael and Susie took us around the corner for dinner. It was so much fun seeing them again. Michael is such a nice guy.

Never Stand Between Me and Chocolate

This morning I got up at the ungodly hour 6:00 to make my world famous nice chocolate brownie cakes. I only had Radio 4's Today show and our new red toaster (you can see it in the background) for company.

First I had to beat the butter and sugar until fluffy. I did it until I could smell smoke coming from the beater. I don't think it was designed to handle industrial quantities.




















Then I had to add the flour, eggs and cocoa.




















And mix all that in.



















Throw the mixture into cake moulds and then in the muffinesque tray.



















And 12 minutes later you have gooey chocolate muffin cakey things that you sell for charity at work. Easy!!

Catalunya is not Spain, but I love it anyway......

Medieval Streets!




Cute boys! ;-)




BBQs in May!




Michelin-starred restaurants!!




Beaches! (yes, Madrid has a river....)




Religion!

Their cunning knows no limits.

Monday night we met my family and went for quick curry (and a few pints!) in the heart of Banglatown, Brick Lane. Yes, yes, it's not the most authentic Indian experience in London, but it's close to Mile End (where my family are staying), so that's where we went.



Tom took this photo - not only can he talk the hind leg of a donkey - he also has a good eye for a 2 year old.





Ang and Div glamourously sped to Paris via the Eurostar yesterday, for some europleasure. They are staying at the Hotel les degres de Notre Dame (one of a select few to make it into Paul and my 'Affordable Charming Hotels in European Capitals' book, coming to a bookshop near you soon) and their room has a view of Notre Dame. No wonder they were going to bed early last night...

I love the Eurostar - I wish it went everywhere. I tried to go to Strasbourg when I had to go there for work, but it was going to take 10 hours. Now that the TGV from Paris to Strasbourg is running, I might see how I get on next time. Must reduce carbon footprint and save planet etc.

Last night I went over to see Tomas and Mia before they went to bed. I got to read Winnie the Pooh!! Another dream realised before I turn 40. Mia rubbed her cheek when I kissed her goodnight. 'Ow' said Tomas, when I kissed him goodnight. I know it's a cunning plan on their part to make me shave off my beard.

Shoreditch is still the new Shoreditch

The weekend was a bit busy - or at least Friday and Saturday were. Sunday Paul wasn't feeling very well.

Friday night saw us out farewelling a colleague of Paul's - Caroline - she is good fun. I get along well with a couple of Paul's colleagues, who for some reason find me amusing (imagine!), so I enjoyed myself. I am sure that I am probably even more amusing after 4 pints of Guinness.

Saturday I managed to get down to the gym around 9, and saw a very hungover Vicki, the gym manager. Seeing her suffering made me forget my hangover. I admire such selflessness in others.

I met Paul in town after doing some birthday shopping for him. Paul finally ended up buying some very cool Armani sunglasses. So cool he seems to be a bit shy about wearing them. I really like them though, and that's what's important.

There was absolutely no-one in the west end either, everybody was out enjoying the unseasonally hot weather. We had some texts from a friend who was up at the Highgate ponds, but the water temperature was only 51F (10C!), so there was no way we were heading up for a swim. All this warm weather in April is quite disturbing, I find strange for people to be sunbaking and swimming when they should be planning summer holidays.

Saturday night we met Damien at Loungelover. We had been wanting to go for quite a while, but we are never over in Shoreditch. Anyway, Loungelover might be uber-cool and really difficult to get into, but it is a really good bar. My God, the drinks are expensive though! £11 for a margherita! And I didn't even bat an eyelid - I think I've been living in London too long. But it was for Paul's birthday, after all. Because it is so uber-cool (Madonna had her 48th birthday there, and they employ eastern-europeans who can speak english), we were only granted a table for an hour. After that we had to rub shoulders with the plebs up at the bar. We stood under the stuffed Hippo's head. As we reached the bar, everybody sang Happy Birthday. Paul was very touched, until he realised it was someone else's birthday.

The pleasant thing about Loungelover was that although it is difficult to get into, and you may not have a table for long, the staff were more than helpful and affable, which is unusual for London. We had read a couple of bad reviews about attitude, but we didn't experience any of that. Do yourself a favour, as Molly would say.

Afterwards we went around the corner to the Great Eastern Dining Room for too much to eat and yet more to drink. This was another official Summer of Food ^{tm reg} event. Bizarrely, there was a group there who had been in Lounge Lover. The food was very good, the duck in particular was one of the best ducks I've had. I can still taste it.

Shoreditch is pretty cool - Paul still wants to live there (I think) - it's probably more us than St John's Wood, so we'll see.

Stroke, stroke, stroke

Last Saturday the annual Oxford - Cambridge boatrace took place. We were invited down to Barnes to lunch, then a group of us wandered over to the Thames to watch the finish. I think you can see how dejected the Oxford (Cambridge?) crew were to have lost the race. It could have been worse for them, last year was windy and raining, at least this year it was sunny. Who says global warming is all bad?



We took up our position near the dilapidated warehouse (and the finish line) you can see in the following photo. I had commented that the warehouse was 'ripe for redevelopment' to Paul, then not 10 mins later someone in our group was bemoaning the fact they would probably be turned into 'yuppie flats'. I didn't know that anyone still used the word 'yuppie'. And I don't see the problem with turning a rundown, unused warehouse into apartments, whether they're for the well-heeled or otherwise. Anyway I left the communist pig to entertain himself after that and chatted to my more affluent friends.......



I had been to the boatrace a few times (but never into the changerooms afterwards, like Paul has) and this year there seemed to be quite a lot more security. No doubt it was all part of the war on lycra. There were some threatening looking boats driving around - but they may have just been full of old dons, who knows?



Friday night, we had had Damien over for dinner, as part of the pre-summer-of-food. I cooked a duck. I didn't know ducks were so big! Does anyone have any recipes for leftover duck?

Sunday was Easter Sunday - I got a chocolate egg! Who would have thought?

Lunch on Saturday wasn't an official summer-of-food ^{(tm reg)} event, but that didn't stop it being very pleasant. The table was very diverse (Well as diverse as a group of 9 gay and one straight gay way). There was two Malaysian Indians, two Irishmen, two Englishmen, one Welshman, a Canadian, and Italian and an Australian. I think Paul got to use his 'Sometimes I think I'm the only English person in London' line. This line would be a lot more effective if Paul was Cockney, or even a Londoner, but he's not. I am more of a Londoner than he is. Oh, and last night I was told I was 'practically English'. I don't think I should have to sit the citizenship test.

And so began the summer of food....

Been a bit busy with work lately, which is good, but I am also having to do a bit of commuting to Winnersh, which takes up 3 hours of my day - ouch. So not a lot of time to blog. Spring has arrived again – which is great for people like me – not so good if you are a hay fever sufferer. But I’m not, and this blog is all about me, so we're not talking about hay fever.

What have we done lately? Paul, Damien and I went here, the second last night before it closed. It was good fun, and the food was excellent, if a little overpriced. When Damien first arrived in London, he used to deliver mushrooms there, so the night peppered with comments like ‘People say you can’t make it in this town, but I beg to differ’ etc.etc. We tried to engage the waitress in some banter, but she was having none of it. She was eastern-european, didn’t know who Gennaro was, and was rather severe. She reminded me of the Nanny(?) in Lead Balloon in fact. Jack Dee is a comic genius.

There was a surprisingly good Chilean wine tasting Damien dragged us along to last week as well. I say surprisingly good, because I associate Chile with sub-£5 quaffers and not so much with the quality end of the wine market. We tasted our way through some pretty good stuff – especially Pinot, (my wine of choice at the moment). I found there were still some pretty crappy ‘dirty’ wines, but the overall standard was very good.

Afterwards we went here, for a nice big dose of attitude from the Maitre’d. I suppose it was our privilege to wait for 40 mins for a table though. In the end, we declined our table, as we’d done it in true Spanish style and eaten (standing) at the bar. I then had a bit of a rant (to no-one in particular) about how there were two ways they could have dealt with us waiting – and we got treated the in the crappy, what-do-you-mean-you-want-to-eat-here way. But that service for you in London, I suppose. And by God they have good food.

Saturday we did some jobs and shopping in London’s overcrowded West End. But we found a haven of gastronomic excellence to eat at, and it’s cheapish! How did I not know about this! And we got to eavesdrop on someone’s wedding/hen’s weekend plans – double bonus.
Afterwards we were stopped by two chic French women, asking us where the new Abercrombie and Fitch store. I didn’t realise I looked so obviously American buff gay. I told them the wrong address. C’est la vie.

Oh no it isn't!

Sorry for the dismal effort in blogging lately, but I had to travel again with work, and am doing a big commute as well. Not good.

I found myself savouring the delights of the Franco-German anachronism that is Strasbourg again last week. It is very pretty and I had some great food again, but by God the people who I have to work with there are boring. And I mean terminally. But there were other highlights.

Like being greeted with a ‘Bonjour!’ upon leaving the toilet cubicle. Very friendly, but I don’t want people talking to me in the loo – he might as well have asked me if I enjoyed my crap.

I ate a cake at the airport! And had weizen beer!! The beer was very good, but the cake was disappointing (What was I expecting – I was in Germany) and what I thought was going to be a flaky pastry with lovely fresh glazed fruit topping it wasn’t. Instead it was a four inch high doughy cake thing with stewed fruit and jelly on it. Which would have been fine, but I don’t like stewed fruit or jelly. Oh well.

We went for flambe one evening and beer (!), and my colleagues entertained me with amusing stories. One particularly amusing one involved a colleague of theirs wearing jeans to the office one day. Oh, how we laughed. I think I reached for more beer at that point.

But I am still astonished by the canteen in Strasbourg – 3 courses for 7 Euro. And they serve up grub like Carpaccio of Scallop – and over here in the UK you’re lucky to get gammon and chips. While a very smiley French Agnetha from Abba lookalike (without the marital problems I hope!), serves on the checkout there, here they look like they have to go back to Holloway in the evenings.

Friday night we went into town for drinks and Kelly Osbourne was out - she said sorry to me when her drunk friend knocked me. I didn't mind, because I was drunk too.

There were lots of Daniel Radcliffe stalkers out too, trying to see him naked.

Last weekend we went out to the Essex/Suffolk borders again. It was sunny! We went to the beach!

This week has been an unseasonably warm 14C., but this is due to be replaced by snow on Sunday. I’m thinking of upping my carbon footprint in an effort to hasten the onset of spring.

Oh, and the sun is still rising. Sometimes it’s pretty.

I guess it's pretty lucky neither of us is rich, huh?

Last Wednesday I met Paul and Damien at Barrafina in Soho. after I’d got back from Strasbourg. It has been getting great reviews and it was excellent - outstanding tapas, good wine and good service. I liked the fact Paul and Damien had to do the hour-long wait in the queue without me. I’d definitely go back and highly recommend it. It’s run by the people who run Fino in ‘Fitzrovia’, but is more of a tapas bar than restauarant, with a very long bar that you sit at to eat. All very Spanish.

So Spanish in fact, that the guy who sat down next to us felt the need to demonstrate his prowess with Castilian, and was chatting to the owner off and on. After a while he said ‘Excuse me, what are razor clams again?’. The owner picked one up from the bed of ice to show him. ‘Oh no, I know what a razor clam is. I meant I’ve forgotten how to say it in Spanish’. What’s Spanish for wanker?

After Barrafina, we went to see Dame Judi and ‘Our Cate’ in ‘Notes from a Scandal’. It was excellent, and funny in an odd way. ‘You sent her fiancé a wreath!!!’. As if. It was refreshing to see older lesbians portrayed in such a glamorous light, too. (After , ‘La Tournese de Pages’, this was our second lesbian-themed movie under a month – they’re like buses you know – you wait forever for one, then two come along at once. Boom boom.) Both Dame Judi and Cate had great roles. I’d give it an 8.8/10, despite the fact I heard some people moaning about Cate Blanchett’s accent when we were leaving. Please.



Most of our weekend was spent inhaling solvent-based paint fumes, while we finished off painting the window and skirting boards in the bedroom. We know how to have fun! Paul and I took a break Saturday night to go to a friend’s Titanic-themed birthday party on the Thames. Poor taste? Who’s to say? It was a good party and we made some new friends (we had to – we didn’t know anyone else there). We resisted the siren-song of Vauxhall clubs at 2am and called it a day.

Sunday night Paul surprised me and took me here to see this. .(Incidentally, Paul's brother Lee is in the video for the song, by the band Deep Blue). It was very sweet of him. I was trying to guess all the way where we were going, but had no ideaThe hotel has a Sunday night film club which is pretty good value. The idea is you have a three-course meal and then go downstairs to watch the movie – very civilised. The Charlotte Street Hotel is pretty cool – not uber-designer-cool, but very relaxed and comfortable cool. Good food and service too. The staff seemed to be all Hispanic as well - ‘What London was like in the good old days’, someone remarked.

Freude, schöner Götterfunken

So, earlier this week I was in Strasbourg for work. It seemed a pretty town, although I didn't get to see much of it as my new boss is a bit of a workaholic. But I like her anyway, because she doesn't pull any punches. And she seems to think I'm doing a good job, so it's all good.

Strasbourg is where the European Parliament sits when it's not in Brussels, and so work was a model of European harmony and I felt no guilt whatsoever about only using 10 words of French whilst I was there. ( I was not as bad as an American at breakfast who, after looking at the waiter's badge, said 'M-a-r-c. How do you pronounce that? Oh, Mark?'. What do they feed them??!!)

I did draw the line at telling a colleague I was having difficulty understanding him because of his heavily accented French though. I'm not that insensitive. I also love a French accent, so tried not to stare dreamily at him too much. It was quite ironic to be working with some Russians, a Pole, some Germans, a Japanese and some French, especially considering just over 60 years ago we would have been tearing each other limb from limb.

One of the differences I did notice was absolutely no-one was in the office before 9:00 and everyone left at 17:00. (except for me and my boss of course - I had to drag her out at 18:30, after a 10.5 hour day) And everyone had lunch in the (delicious and heavily-subsidised) canteen for an hour. Which is a million miles away from the eat-lunch-at-your-desk and maybe take 30 minutes for it culture here. And don't start me on the coffee breaks.....

My self-control went out the window, it was all french pastries for breakfast and wine (Pinot! Shiraz! Syrah!) and steak at dinner. I even ate at a cheese restaurant one night (La Cloche à Fromages), where, as you'd expect, cheese featured heavily on the menu and I could feel myself piling on the weight with every mouthful.

I had to fly into and out of Stuttgart airport (look at this - why can't Heathrow be like this?). The taxi to Strasbourg sped down the autobahn at 180kmh in driving rain. Even though I was safely ensconced in the back of a big Mercedes, it didn't stop me praying all the way to St Diana of Windsor.

My train to Heathrow took 50 minutes instead of 15, because someone had jumped at Southall... people nowadays are so inconsiderate. I blame Tony Blair.

I had a little time to spare at Stuttgart Airport, so took the opportunity to have a nice cold German lager in the cockpit bar. It was nice.

A merry flag in the artic wilderness of my life.

Sorry for the break in transmission - I have been without access to the google for a few days.

Last Friday, Paul and I joined Catriona and Chris at Covent garden for dinner and 'Il Trovatore'. Dinner was fine (not outstanding, but satisfactory - I think it's a sign of how good food now is (or people's expectations of it) in the UK. 10 years ago I would have said it was very good). And the opera was excellent - we splurged a little thanks to Catriona having access to good seats. The sightlines weren't fantastic, but the music was so much better than up in the gods where we have sat before. And it's always nice to go home without a bleeding nose.

As you know, I don't know much about opera,(except they're all tragic of course) but Marcelo Alvarez was in it - he was the tenor I saw in Carmen (and isn't he chunky closer up?). Stephanie Blythe was excellent as the gypsy Azucena, and Catherine Naglestad was very good as Leonora. well.

It’s Always Christmas in the West End.

Last Thursday I met Stuie for a quick drink in London’s bohemian Soho after work – and the walk for me from my new office at Great Portland St to Soho was less than 20 minutes! What’s not to like about that! Paul and I were going to Avenue Q, (tix a Christmas gift from Stuie) – so when Paul joined us we went to Browns (haunt of Alistair Appleton and that girl from the Sound of Music) to take advantage of their pre-theatre menu.

Avenue Q was good fun – not as rude or subversive as it’s been made out to be, but we both enjoyed it anyway. I was surprised Paul said he’d go again, but he’s entitled to his own opinion (generally) - I’d give it a 7.8/10. There were some good songs (that’s funny good, not catchy tunes), like “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist”, “The Internet is for Porn” and 'The More You Ruv Someone (the More You Want to Kill Them)', but at times it was a bit like watching an adult ‘Sesame Street’.

Friday night I was out drinking again as Paul had his work Christmas party. I could have stayed in I suppose, but where's the fun in that? I met up with Stuie, but the drinks went to his head and he left early. He left not long after Paul had joined us brandishing his go-karting trophy. Paul was most distressed to only have come third (he is the best driver in his family, you know). We spent some of the night chatting to a nice lesbian from Melbourne and her Kiwi friend - they were good fun.

Barcode Soho was on the way home, so we called in for a swift pint – I had forgotten that Mark and Matthew were going to be there, so that delayed us further. Our friend Eduardo works at Barcode, so when he finished work, we all went to the Escape Bar for a small dance. I chatted to an American intern who is working for a conservative MP here. She was trying to reconcile that with her being a Democrat. She was out with a friend and they's only been here a week, which meant I spent an hour boring giving them tips on London, now that the pound is worth $A2 …..

Saturday I foolishly spent an hour on the phone to my sister, who has just booked her tickets to come to the UK in April. Foolishly because I should have been getting ready to go meet Paul’s Mum and his Aunt Daphne for our ‘Golden Girls’ lunch. Paul headed in early and I followed, met them in Fortnum and Mason for a coffee, then Patsy and Edina Julie, Daphne, Paul and I went to Quaglino’s for lunch. It was very good – last time I was there I wasn’t impressed, but this time the food was spot on. It’s still very much a big Terence Conran 90’s restaurant, but it’s almost retro in style now.

I didn’t take my camera, and forgot about my phone, so you will have to go without pictures. Those of you on dial-up will no doubt be delirious.

Monday night we stayed in and watched ‘Cinema Paradiso’ which was very seductive. I found it to be a bit too sentimental and simplistic, but it was beautifully shot. And quite humorous in parts. I loved it just for the cinematography. I’d give it 7.6/10.

Never cross a foreigner......

Tuesday night, Damien, Paul’s new best-friend Sue, Paul and I went to see ‘The Page Turner’, at the Curzon Cinema in Monopoly's most expensive real estate, Mayfair. I'd probably class the film as a thriller with some comic touches, but I’m not entirely sure if it was supposed to be comic. Lots of French brooding in it too. The young female lead Deborah Francois was excellent, very sweet, yet menacing and Catherine Frot is beautiful in it, exuding French style through every pore….. And Mum would think Pascal Greggory was pretty dishy as well – he’s a sortof gallic Christopher Plummer. I gave it 7.2/10.

After the film we went to possibly London's only Polish-Mexican restaurant. They have flavoured vodka!

It's Very Dangerous Here

So tonight we braved the 'killer fog' and went out to grab some food for Christmas the holidays . We ended up queueing here for over 40 minutes for cheese (only). We had some banter with the fellow queuees, and got free hot chocolate and cakey things, so all was not lost. And the staff were all foreign, how cosmopolitan!! They even spoke French to each other. It was sortof all the best bits of Med food transported to London. And cheap! Tuna, £18 a tin. Chocolates, £85 a kilo. Ham, £150 a kilo (well it was Jamon Iberico)....

Off out to serial killer country tomorrow, if the fog doesn't get us first......

Paul and I gritted our teeth Saturday and headed into London’s sparkling West End to start our Christmas Shopping. It actually wasn’t too crowded, but then again we were there at the relatively early shopping time of 10:45, so who knows what it was like later. I was getting annoyed with people dawdling and stopping dead in front of me. I knew what I wanted and where I needed to go, so anyone in my way was an annoyance. When we were at dinner Saturday night, someone suggested implementing a fast and slow lanes, but I think it would be better just keeping tourists and stupid people out of town for the month of December, and deploying marksmen on the tops of buildings to shoot trangressors.. I wonder if the Mayor of London has a suggestion box?





I bought some shoes (on sale!) as my mum’s Christmas present to me. Thanks Mum!

When we were on Bond St, we saw Gordon Ramsay illegally park his silver Lamborghini and go into some ritzy jewellers, come out and drive off. F*ck!! (I don't normally swear, but I felt I should for Gordon's sake). His skin is really bad. But he has a classy car.

Paul suggested lunch at the new wine bar in Fortnum & Mason, 1707. It was very good, and the winelist was done by either Jancis Robinson or Tim Aitken. (I can’t remember which, but they are both MWs and two of my favourite wine writers). Jancis should be the next Queen of England. Anyway, the food was very good and so was the wine champagne. The room itself is all oak and so it felt a bit like sitting in a sauna with septuagenarians. If it had been Germany, they all would have been naked. It didn't bear thinking about.

The toilets at F & M have the same flush button as our new bathroom. How exciting! And F&M was founded before the white discovery of Australia.

The British press is very excited about Kate Middleton going to HRH William’s graduation at Sandhurst. She will probably now be hounded to death. I pity the poor girl, but I suppose if you start snogging the future King of England, it’s the price you have to pay.

Saturday night we went for dinner with Louise, Jo, and Stuie. At Spiga, in London's down-at-heel Soho. It was very good, and as a bonus, they forgot to charge us for the wine. Oh well. First we meet here for a drink, where I almost choked when I was charged £8 for a glass of wine. "It's very good", the barman assured me.


Louise and Jo are going to Paris for few days before Christmas. I hope they go here for dinner/lunch – it’s lovely. I believe they are what people call ‘lipstick’ lesbians. Some people think lesbians are all overalls and reassembling cars for the hell of it, but most of the lesbians I know are very glamourous.

Speaking of DIY (well sortof), I had to replace the bathroom light switch the other day and didn’t electrocute myself. Sometimes my butchness astounds me.

It’s finally got cold – just in time for Christmas! The weekend was very clear and crisp, but freezing as soon as the sun went down. Luckily I was wearing a beer coat for most of it.

I am not going to mention the Ashes, because I don’t really care about them.

'Are you having another of your queer spells?'

That was one of the questions asked of Old Vic Theatre Artistic Director and late-night dog-walker Kevin Spacey, in Moon for the Misbegotten, in Sarf London last night. The play was excellent, but pretty intense. The subject matter of alcoholism, poverty and unrealised love was a nice way to kick off the Christmas season, too.

And the Bishop of Southwark kicked off his Christmas in a big way this week too, glad to see someone’s enjoying themselves.

We’re going to be spending Christmas a few miles from the ‘Ipswich Ripper'. Looks like I picked a good week to stop turning tricks.

And what planet is John Lethlean on? £7 for a loaf of bread? Was it supposed to have been posted from Paris?