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!

A weekend on the tiles

It's All About the Water 3

Part of last night was spent on a boat.
More on that next week - tonight we're off to Paris on Eurostar for an official Summer of Food ^{tm reg} event. Hopefully no water will be seen.

See you next week!

Really?

So London is the second most expensive city on the planet after Moscow?

No way! Not with a one-way tube-ride costing a mere £4?

Next they'll be telling us the Earth revolves around the Sun.

After something free?

Try the free films at the Pool of London - take picnic (and some booze!) and watch a film - it's a great night out. (It could even be made a 'Summer of Food ^{(tm reg)}' official event. We've been the last couple of years (last year to see 'Caberet'). Red Ken is putting on some excellent films, like 'Volver', 'Romeo and Juliet' and 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' . What's not to like about those?

See, I've saved you money already.......

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!

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.