Trulli Update for April 06

When we last visited in March [Update on Hovel in the Hills] Daniele said the second house would be ready by Easter. So we immediately rescheduled our holiday to June and planned a weekend instead. How prophetic we were.

The doors are on but inside is still the same shell. On the other hand the groundworks are looking good: we have a perimeter wall round the whole property, a drive and several sets of steps to transition between levels. The new cistern is dug and roofed and due to be lined and filled with water this week. Also the pizza oven restoration is well under way.

We have our first paying guests next week, a nominal sum only in return for being guinea pigs in a building site. As a result the weekend was spent sweeping out the rooms, wiping a fine layer of grey-green mould off all the furniture and sorting the contents of the storage boxes. Plus a trip to the local hyper-market for garden furniture and self-assembly wardrobes. Not the most relaxing weekend and we are not best pleased with Daniele's idea of "cleaned".


Pizza oven before restoration
Looking worse than it started!

Pizza oven after restoration
Well almost done.

Front of trulli april 2006
Drive cleared of rubble. Doors on the Lamia.

Back of trulli april 2006
Drive, steps up to the terrace and general back view.

Male Grooming Products

Friday's trip to Italy followed the usual routine: get "air-side" asap, have a late lunch of champagne and smoked salmon, then I guard the bags at the coffee shop whilst Mary does a tour of the emporia.

This time she returned with a Clinique Skin Care Starter Kit for men, four handy little travel-sized tubes in a zip-up bag. This to prevent me from acquiring the complexion of a wrinkled old saddle-bag like my father though I attribute that more to his life-long smoking habit than any dereliction of his skin-care regimen.

The contents: face scrub, liquid face wash, hydrating lotion and the curiously named "scruffing lotion". As if we boys weren't scruffy enough someone has gone to the trouble of developing a potion that will make us even scruffier! As Americans say "Go figure".

Bike Rage

I am suffering Blog-lag: this should have been Friday's post but work and an early finish to leave for Italy got in the way.

Twice on Thursday I had to shout at motorists, once on the way in and once on the way home. Both for the exact same manoeuvre: stopped at lights, lights change to green and off they go, *as* they turn the corner they put their indicator on. As a cyclist on their inside this makes for an exciting moment or two.

FLAME ON *
What is the point of that! They are supposed to signal BEFORE the manoeuvre not AFTER. That is why they are called INDICATORS to INDICATE their intention BEFORE they do it so other road users can ANTICIPATE their actions and plan accordingly. Indicating to let people know what you've just done is completely bl**dy pointless. What is wrong with these plonkers?
FLAME OFF

My breathlessness while cycling limits my ability to indulge in a burst of Shavian wit so I confine myself to simple statement of fact. "You're supposed so to signal before you turn not after" I scream at them through the windscreen and cycle off in a cloud of righteous indignation.

* FLAME ON/OFF are rant delimiters are recommended in RFC 1855 Netiquette Guidelines

Chinese Fire Drill

Yesterday John and I took a stroll down to Gerrard Street in London's China Town to meet Andrea and their two children for lunch. As John and I approached Cambridge Circus I remarked that it was at that very set of red traffic lights I had seen two lads jump out, run round and round the car, then jump back in (at random) when the lights turned green.

"That", said John, "is what Americans call a 'Chinese Fire Drill'. You should ask Andrea". So, over the set lunch I did. Andrea revealed that not only was it a well known American custom but that she herself had indulged. Unfortunately she did not check first and, as she got round the back of the car, spotted the patrol car immediately behind: oops! Fined for improper pedestrian use of the highway - well I guess she was on foot at the time.

For more see:
The Mavens' Word of the Day
Chinese fire drill - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Don't worry Andrea, your secret is safe with me <grin>

Bodges, we don't need no stinking bodges

"Relaxing" and "Weekend" are two words not often found cheek by jowl in Mary's vocabulary and the Easter weekend was no exception. We took Thursday off work so we could get down to the cottage early avoiding the Easter weekend traffic jams.

Thursday afternoon was spent staining twenty floorboards in the garage and Friday was spent hauling them upstairs and nailing them in place in the loft. Doing which meant removing the rickety collection of planks, shelves, doors and bits of old furniture that had previously passed for temporary flooring. I didn't manage to fit all 20 in the day because I would insist on doing it neatly: there is a level of rough and ready craftsmanship below which I will not sink. I cannot bring myself to do a bodge job.

Saturday we had Nikki down for round two of the garden refurbishment started last year helped by Mary and local lad Asher. He and I sorted out the base of the summerhouse with some planks recycled from the loft and then proceeded to paint it green with the help of Nikki's kids Ben and Rowanna.

In the evening Bob&Lynne joined us for what was meant to be the first barbecue of the year but the rain put a damper on that so we dined indoors. We baked the meats and, instead of grilled vegetables, did some cous-cous at which Bob and I simultaneously said "Ah, the first cous-cous of spring".

Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson

I have written previously of the challenges in naming our bike shed (see "Jabba the Shed". Now the problem has been solved, the inspiration has been found.

We decided we needed a second shed in which to store our garden furniture that we won at auction. So off we went to Homebase this week to order a second bike shed. Of their range it seemed the best size and shape to accommodate our wooden folding chairs.

So now we will have two identical sheds and then I remembered the old Monty Python sketch about Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson.

So I will be calling one shed "Arthur" and the other shed "Jackson". Excellent! <grin>

The Last Weekend

Completing the symmetry of The Lost Weekend here is last weekend:

Friday, 07 April 2006: Wine glasses

We had Siobhan&Paul round for a DP which was an excuse to crack open a bottle or two (or four) of our finest wines:
• Grosset Watervale Reisling 2002
(aperitif)
• Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc 1999
(roast asparagus, rocket, parmesan and balsamic vinegar)
• Cos d'Estournel 1990
(rack of lamb with herb crust)
• Cape Promise Private Reserve Noble Late Harvest Muscat / Chenin Blanc 2004
(mango lassi fool)
Of course that meant our finest glasses, the Riedel Vinum range. We couldn't really justify the hand blown Sommelier range. Different glasses for each wine, of course, which meant a pile of washing up on Saturday morning. These glasses do *not* go in the dishwasher, they get carefully washed and rinsed one at a time.

Saturday, 08 April 2006: Winchester dining

Saturday it was off to Winchester for supper at Barry&Sue's with Bob&Lynne. We went down by train and had a most enjoyable meal. At nine o'clock it was off to friends of Barry&Sue for more drinks at which point we wimped out, peeled off and caught the 21:18 back to London.

Sunday, 09 April 2006: A day of rest, again

Well mostly. A bit of DIY and micro gardening then the evening to relax.

Diary duty done again!

Harbinger of Spring

No, not Erigenia bulbosa but many others. One of the joys of a new garden is that you never know what is lurking under the soil and the first twelve months bring a series of surprises.

The first was last month when a whole host of snowdrops appeared in the lawn.

Next up the daffodils but they put on a pretty pathetic show, two in one corner and a lone daff in the other. Mary felt so sorry for them that last weekend she planted a few more to keep them company.

Then the tree in the front garden turned into a magnificent Tulip Magnolia with big pink flowers.

But yesterday Mary saw definitive proof that winter is over: a bloke on a scooter with a clipboard doing "The Knowledge". The Cabbie-in-training does not like the cold, wet weather so spring really is here.

The Lost Weekend

Saturday night Lynne asked how come I hadn't blogged the previous weekend so here are the entries I would have written had not last week at work been so busy:

Friday, 31 March 2006: Movin' Out

Went to see "Movin' Out" at the Appollo Victoria with Mary's friend Andrea. The reviews I have read since reinforced my impression. If you had gone expecting a Billy Joel musical (with dancing) you might have been disappointed. If you went expecting a Twyla Tharpe ballet (with music) you would be in for an enjoyable evening.

The key to the production is, in my view, the song "We didn't start the fire" each stanza of which reflects a different decade (50's through 80's). That chronological backbone is the core around which Twyla weaves her characters' story though it reads better as a story of America than the characters' lives.

Saturday, 01 April 2006: Plummers Bistro

Saturday it was back down to the cottage for a bit more loft clearance followed by an evening with Bob&Lynne. We went to test out the new bistro in Ringwood High Street - Plummers (formerly Daisy Darling's Tea Rooms). Consensus view was not bad at all. The proprietor was working Front Of House and had a bit of a chat to us. Given the quality of the food and his attitude they deserve to do well (and might make The Old Cottage Restaurant look to its laurels).

Sunday, 02 April 2006: A day of rest

Well mostly. Back to London for a bit of DIY and micro gardening then the evening to relax.

Diary duty done!

The common cormorant (or shag)

Lays eggs inside a paper bag,
You follow the idea, no doubt?
It is to keep the lightning out.

But what these unobservant birds
Have never thought of, is that herds
Of wandering bears might come with buns
And steal the bags to hold the crumbs

Christopher Isherwood [wikipedia on Cormorants]

The last couple of days a whole flock of cormorants (at least I am reasonably sure that is what they are) have taken up residence on a set of pilings between Wandsworth and Battersea bridges. Makes a change from the common gull.

And they set off memories of this poem.

Hole in the Head

Blackadder to Percy: "You are as much use to me as a hole in the head, an affliction with which you must be familiar, never having had a brain" *

Now is it just me? I can never get the earphones that come with mobile phones, walkmans and mp3 players to stay in my ears, they just fall out. How do other people manage?

My ears don't seem at all unusual or malformed but they are not perfectly circular like the earpieces. Perhaps all the people who work for these companies have perfectly circular ear-holes.

Do other people have more curly ear-flappy bits that hold them in? Or perhaps they have all done a bit of home surgery with a Black and Decker and a 12mm drill bit? The only ones that work for me are the in-ear type with rubber grommets on the end.

* Blackadder Insults. Another favorite from the same page: "We live in an age where illness and deformity are commonplace and yet, Ploppy, you are without a doubt the most repulsive individual I have ever met. I would shake your hand but I fear it would come off."

That page I found via See Here archive for 01-Nov-2005. See Here appears to have too much time on his hand.

Talk To The Hand

Mary does not like having her picture taken. If you looked at our holiday snaps you might be forgiven for thinking I travelled alone. Personally I am more of the Japanese Tourist school of photography. I like grinning pictures of me in front of famous monuments.

A couple of weeks ago we were in the local wine bar discussing the crap poor quality of the mobile phone built in camera. Mary remarked that these new phones allow you to associate a picture with a contact in your phone book. Quick as a flash I whipped out my phone to take a picture of SWMBO but Mary's anti-paparazzi circuits were faster.

So for the last two weeks whenever I get a call from Mary this is the image that pops up on my phone's screen:


Talk To The Hand

Street Life (Marathon Runners)

This week my cycle route to work has been littered with joggers, hundreds of them; they weren't there last week. You just *know* they have not been on a six-month, progressive training regimen. They all woke up last Sunday morning and went "Oh f**k it's the Marathon in four weeks! I better do some training."

KGS Class of 71 Reunion Update

A change of date for the 2006 KGS Class of 71 Reunion. It will now be on Sunday 24-September-2006, probably somewhere at the University of Warwick from about 10:30 to 11:00. This has been occasioned by Richard Skelcey who will be in England again this September and so Dilys has arranged the gathering around a date he is available. Further updates when the venue is sorted out.

Family dining

Mary too had a tough week of "team building" so we segued easily, without breaking step, into a weekend of eating and drinking. Friday night was a repeat visit to the Food Room as we had promised ourselves after our last visit [Eye Contact Avoidance].

Saturday night was a return match for the "siblings-and-partners" meal we had at Jane&Pete's. A most successful evening helped by a fine menu and the best of wines:

• Caramelised Asparagus on a bed of rocket [US: Rucola] and parmesan [US: parmigiano] drizzled with balsamic vinegar
• Oven-baked halibut with fresh vegetables
• Fresh coconut and pineapple with margarita sorbet and toasted coconut ice cream
• Cheese board with two kinds of freshly baked bread

I wish I had time to type up the full recipes like Rosa who blogs a whole heap of recipes. Suffice it to say everything was home made, of course. The ice cream recipe started with a real, hairy coconut and a hammer...

Sunday was Mother's Day in the UK so we went down to my Mum&Dad's in Farnham. We took lunch (fish terrine and bits) with us so Mum did not have to cook. Unfortunately we had not listened to the radio nor switched on the TV for 48 hours and were blissfully unaware that the clocks had changed.

I got a call from Mum wondering what time we were planning to get there. We jumped in the car and headed off. Unfortunately, so it seemed, had half of South London: the Wandsworth Gyratory was not gyrating. It hardly whirls like a Dervish at the best of times but Sunday lunchtime on Mother's day it ground to a halt. The tailback was all the way up East Hill almost as far as the Huguenot church. We arrived somewhat late but then had a fine time chatting of this and that and an opportunity to hug Mum and tell her I loved her.

I have said it before and will say it again. If you can, if it's not too late, spend time with your family and tell them you love them.

A tail of two shirts

Purple seems to be the "in" colour at work. At last week's team progress meeting I was the only one not attired in some shade of purple or lilac. So Friday I went lunchtime shopping for a new shirt but ended up on the horns of a dilemma, torn between meanness and snobbery.

I could not bear to pay as much GBP 45 for a work shirt from Haines & Bonner whatever the quality(and anyway they were double cuff). Nor could I bear to pay as little as GBP 9.50 for an easy-iron shirt from M&S; at that price what thin quality could they possibly be?

So I went back to the office shirtless and the hunt continues.

Team Building Ancient and Modern

Like all couples Mary and I have evolved a private language. For example when we say "I'm out team building this evening" that is coded shorthand for "I am going out drinking and eating with a crowd from work, I may be some time. Eat without me and don't feel you have to wait up." This week I have been "team building" at different ends of the chronological spectrum.

Tuesday was meeting up with old friends from my time at BIS Applied Systems circa 1981 to 1986. We went to Jamie's Bar, Mansion House, the usual suspects were there: Dave Horth, Glen Saunders, Pete Sherwood (my Best Man) and Cosmo Wisniewski. We drank, we ate, we reminisced. A success for New Year's Resolution #4

Wednesday night was a team from my current client project. We went to Porters on my suggestion. It was ages since I went there but the recent reviews are still good. Whilst there it dawned on me that the last time I went there was, in fact, Saturday 23 October 1993: my stag night! Blimey, that was a while back.

My stag night, like Mary's hen night, was a meal with a crowd of around a dozen like-gendered friends. I can't be doing with all this "get completely bladdered and end up stark-b*ll*ck naked, handcuffed to the inter-city express to Edinburgh" rubbish. A relaxed evening with good company is more my style.

Mary's hen do was just down the road so, when they had finished, the girls all came and joined us in Porters for a last drink and then a gentle wobble home. A grand night out.

Helen Galashan placed 7th in the Beam

See "Women's Beam Results" Another fine result for the twins, Helen this time. The beam is the scariest event to watch, only four inches wide and hard to land on in both senses. The aerial shots make it clear what a narrow margin for error there is. Their events are over now so I guess they will being enjoying Melbourne and the Australian hospitality.

The newspaper did refer to them as identical twins. An easy mistake to make as they look very similar but they are in fact fraternal twins not monozygotic.

Street Life (Buskers)

Our buskers are getting more multi-cultural. Monday night I was serenaded past the IMAX by a didgeridoo and through the underpass by Scottish bagpipes. What next I wonder?

A fine fish supper at Brady's

Considering we have lived round the corner from this award winning chippie* for nearly four years I am ashamed to say we have never dined there. Having the mother-in-law down from North of the Border was an excuse to push the boat out (TFIC) and treat her to a fish supper.

We went there last night; May had the Cod and chips, Mary and I had Gilt Bream. The fish were superb: fresh, delicious and simply grilled. No messing about with it, just letting the fish talk for itself. It was just like being at a seaside restaurant in Italy; ah, happy memories.

The chips were my favourite kind, not big fat chips but lots of small crisp and crunchy bits. Maybe they taste good because they hold more fat that way <grin>.

They are licensed with eight white wines and two red to chose from, we went for the Pinot Grigio at 13.75, a bit dry for my palette but pleasant enough. We will definitely be going back again.

* Brady's, 513 Old York Road, London, SW18 1TF. Tel: +44 (20) 8877 9599.

Carol Galashan placed 10th in Individual All Around

See the "Women's All-Around Final Results". And Helen is in the finals for the beam on Tuesday. I am most impressed as I never even represented my Infants School in the Egg and Spoon race let alone competed at the level of Planet Earth (Commonwealth Section).

Full results for "Carol Galashan".
Full results for "Helen Galashan".



In my earlier post I mentioned an item in the Daily Record. It was Scotland's First Minister meeting the twins. The story was also used in a press release on the Scottish government website promoting Scotland's bid for the 20014 Games

Street Life (Workman's Wit)

They are digging a hole in the pavement in Catherine Street, across the road from the Theatre Royal. It is surrounded by plastic barricades to which some crack-bottomed Oscar Wilde has attached a piece of paper bearing the legend:

WISHING WELL
WORK IN PROGRESS
PLEASE GIVE GENEROUSLY

Jigsaws like buses

Nothing for ages then two come all at once. Yesterday the second of my recent eBay wins arrived in the post:


The eagle-eyed amongst you will have spotted that I have bid for and won two copies of the same jigsaw. This is because they are both of our home for the last twelve years Avon Cottage. To have a jigsaw of your own home, how cool is that! The second one I gave to May as a present. Not only as a souvenir and memento but she also does jigsaws.

Mind you Fran next door at "Thatched Eaves" is the subject of a 1000 piece jigsaw entitled "Cottage, Ibsley" that comes up on eBay about once a month. She must have a four foot high stack of them in her living room.

Galashan twins at the Commonwealth Games

Mary's twin nieces Helen Galashan and Carol Galashan are in the Scottish gymnastics Squad at the Commonwealth Games in Melbourne, Australia. There was a good picture of them in yesterday's Daily Record unfortunately the website only has the words. There are pictures of them at http://www.jonatmat.zen.co.uk/jonatmat/Seniors.htm.

Check the BBC Commonwealth Games site for the latest news. Friday's events are the ones we will be watching

John Patient's 50th Birthday

Busy weekend which started on Friday with Dad's 81st birthday. When he hit seventy he said he was no longer interested in celebrating future birthdays, except maybe the big numbers (multiples of 5 and 10). No presents or cards. So we took him at his word and then he was disappointed when we didn't send a card on his 71st. Now we always send a card and sometimes, if we meet around that time, a little present.

Friday afternoon it was leave work early and off to Heathrow to pickup May, Mary's mum, who is down with us for ten days.

Saturday was off to St Albans by train to celebrate John's birthday in the Greek restaurant Anastasia (I would definitely recommend for a group night out). As expected we beat John there because he and a number of the guests had gone to the pub for a beer first.

A sociable crowd many of whom were strangers to me but, given they are all old friends of John's, were the sort of people happy to chat to whoever they sat next to. The "Question du Jour" was "How did you meet John?" which threw an interesting patchwork light on the jigsaw of his life.

Unfortunately we had to dash to catch the 22:30 train back home as we had May staying. Old friends Kate and Ian did the same for baby-sitting reasons which pleasantly extended our evening by an hour as we chatted all the way to Clapham junction where our paths diverged.

A most enjoyable evening. I must find out today how the next couple of hours went as the plan was more drink, a disco (the restaurant has a small dance floor) and toasting John's birthday at midnight as Sunday was the actual day.

Street Life (Pedestrian Chicken)

There is an ebb and flow in the tide of commuters over Waterloo bridge. Such is the fluid dynamics of crowds that a pattern emerges with north-south one side of the pavement and south-north the other.

Every now and again you get some contrarian who clings limpit-like to the parapet side forcing oncomers to swerve. Whether they do it through ignorance or malice I do not know. Whether they are oblivious to others or indifferent I neither know nor care.

This behaviour offends the over-compliant adapted child in me. So with malicious delight I out-limpit them, striding straight at them till they crack and are pried away from the bridge's edge. But then as my friend John said, I become the very thing I dislike. Oh, well!

Note:
I do not do this to tourists; I want them to enjoy their visit to this fine city.

Street Life (Salty Dog)

Any commuter in a big city will see the same homeless vagrants on a regular basis. My 20 minute walk from Waterloo to Drury Lane has at least three:

The guy who walks south over Waterloo bridge at the same time every day. He carries a briefcase but does not look like an office worker. He also carries a golfing umbrella, a rucksack and an unkempt beard. Yet there he is every day at the same time trudging the same route. Where is he going, what does he do, is he really a tramp?

Then there is the Big Issue seller at the south-west corner of the bridge. Also with a beard but more neatly trimmed. Always in the same spot. Seems very polite and reserved kind of chap. Occasionally chatting to his regulars. Always there come rain or shine.

Then a relative newcomer, with guitar, busking in the underpass sitting cross-legged under the third stanza of Eurydice (see "Orpheus on the Underground"). Last week he was playing something excellent (can't remember what) that prompted me to drop some loose change into his cap. Yesterday I could have sworn he was playing Salty Dog by Mississippi John Hurt. A fine song but an odd choice for a busker.

Update on the Hovel-in-the-Hills

"We went out for a nice Italian meal on Friday."
"Oh, where?"
"Italy."

These flying visits have settled into something of a routine. Leave work Friday midday and catch the train up to Stansted. Have a late lunch at the air-side seafood bar, smoked salmon and a glass of champagne, then fly Ryanair to Bari. Pick up the hire car and drive to Locorotondo, pick up the keys to the apartment and head straight to restaurant Centro Storico for a late supper and tucked up in bed by midnight.

Saturday we meet with Daniele the architect, survey the "progress", discuss a few items and then leave. This time literally a flying visit, we did a one way car hire back to Brindisi airport and back Saturday night. So we were actually in Italy for just 25 hours.


A view of our holiday home from the boundary


Bedroom trulli from the outside


Lamia floor and walls almost complete


The driveway being levelled for the patio

Progress has been made on the lamia house, the floors have risen about nine inches since our last visit. This is due to the layered underfloor ventilation then heating then tiles. The walls are ready for the final plaster and whitewash. The roof-top terrace is also tiled and just the finishing touches to go. In two weeks the doors and windows are due, then final works can begin on the interior.

The driveway is being levelled for the patio and the new water cistern. The old one (behind the digger) is temporarily filled in as a safety measure and the new one will be in the same location but deeper and flush with the surface.

Danile reckons the building will be habitable by Easter, but there will still be groundworks, boundary walls, driveways, etc.

Orpheus on the Underground

This week, for various logistical reasons, I bought a weekly travelcard and have been commuting by public transport. As I crammed myself into the "self-herd" cattle truck that is the 08:12 Clapham Junction to Waterloo it reinforced why I prefer to cycle in.

I walk from Waterloo to Drury Lane which takes me down into the underpass by the IMAX where there is a poem on the wall passed by thousand of commuters every day. A fine poem it is too and a pleasure to read.

This week I finally Googled the poetess' name "Sue Hubbard" to discover the poem is titled Eurydice. Just knowing the name of the poem and the classical allusion implied therein added a whole new layer of meaning and appreciation for this work of art. A real "a-a-h!" moment.

Eurydice

I am not afraid as I descend,
step by step, leaving behind the salt wind
blowing up the corrugated river,

the damp city streets, their sodium glare
of rush-hour headlights pitted with pearls of rain;
for my eyes still reflect the half remembered moon.

Already your face recedes beneath the station clock,
a damp smudge among the shadows
mirrored in the train's wet glass,

will you forget me? Steel tracks lead you out
past cranes and crematoria,
boat yards and bike sheds, ruby shards

of roman glass and wolf-bone mummified in mud,
the rows of curtained windows like eyelids
heavy with sleep, to the city's green edge.

Now I stop my ears with wax, hold fast
the memory of the song you once whispered in my ear.
Its echoes tangle like briars in my thick hair.

You turned to look.
Second fly past like birds.
My hands grow cold. I am ice and cloud.

This path unravels.
Deep in hidden rooms filled with dust
and sour night-breath the lost city is sleeping.

Above the hurt sky is weeping,
soaked nightingales have ceased to sing.
Dusk has come early. I am drowning in blue.

I dream of a green garden
where the sun feathers my face
like your once eager kiss.

Soon, soon I will climb
from this blackened earth
into the diffident light.

Author: Sue Hubbard

Walking in the Wild West End

Brother-in-law Pete's work brings him into his company's central London offices much more than it used to. Inspired by our move into the big city property market four years ago, for similar reasons, Jane&Pete have also decided to go for a pied-a-terre in London.

Not for them however the ex-local authority flat in multi-cultural, inner-city Wandsworth. No, they have gone right to the heart of the vibrant West End, in Soho, just a short stroll from Ronnie Scott's.

Sister Jane asked me to join her for an evening in the area of the proposed purchase to see how safe she would feel at night, check out the noise levels and general street scene. We met in Kettner's for a pre-prandial glass of champagne and then off to Soho Spice for a Time's "Eat out for a Tenner" deal where Mary joined us.

To get to the restaurant we passed the Admiral Duncan painted a vivid pink (bit of a clue in the colour scheme) and a shop selling mens' lingerie of a kind not found in M&S. Given that, according to the manager in the bar below the flat, the street is something of a gay icon Jane should feel safe as a woman in the area. It is an exciting area and I look forward to some sibling nights on the town and evenings of jazz at Ronnie Scott's.

KGS Class of 71 Reunion

Dilys Shepherd (nee Crumpton) has dropped me a note to say the next class reunion for those of us who left Kenilworth Grammar School in 1971 is likely to be Saturday 9th September 2006 at Warwick University. Further details to follow when I have them.

Two alumni who remain elusive are Linda Scott and Ben Eykyn (aka Richard Eykyn). If anyone knows their whereabouts please drop me a line and I will foward details to Dilys.

The last reunion that I attended was on Saturday 27 October 2001 (see photos).

Southern France: a new World of Wine

Yesterday was another tough night of eating and drinking in pursuance of our corporate mission - "To eat, drink and have a good time". Once again it was wine tasting at the Charteris Wine Society* which Carolyn described as a wine society with a consultancy attached. Simon, the presenter, did well against the "open outcry" style of discussion.

Coteaux du Languedoc, Domaine Clavel, Cascaille 2003 [GBP 6.95]

Lots of comments around light tropical fruits

Viognier, Vin de Pays d'Oc, Domaine Cazel Viel 2004 [GBP 7.99]

More of an "old world" style with 30% new oak barrels

Domaine Alquier Grand Blanc 2003 [GBP 12.95]

Generally felt to be a bit flat and disappointing.

Le Soula Blanc, Vin de Pays des Cotes Catalanes 2002 (Gauby) [GBP 18.00]

This had an extraordinary nose. All around the room aromatic, toasty suggestions were made like fennel, caraway, fresh baked bread. A big favourite with the crowd. I might be tempted to a bottle or two just out of interest but I am not sure it is full VFM

Corbiere, Domaine du Trillol 2001 [GBP 6.25]

Very sweet berry notes and not liked by most - except me

Syrah, Vin de Pays d'Oc, Domaine Cazal Viel 2003 [GBP 7.99]

Conversely this one I did not like as I felt it was lacking fruit but it was much favoured by the others

Domaine de Perdiguier, Vin de Pay des Coteaux d'Ensurune 2000 [GBP 9.95]

Lots of comments like "tarry", "licquorice", "jammy", "cedary"

Cotes du Roussillon Village, Vielles Vignes 2001 (Gauby) [GBP 24.00]

This was the dark one almost at the amarone / port level of intensity. Definitely one for the cheese board

Several memorable quotes from the evening stick in my mind:

"A bargain is something you don't want at a price you can't resist"
"A Dolly Parton of a wine"
and a sensible suggestion
"Drink less, spend more"

After all life *is* too short to drink bad wine.

* See also "Wines from the Veneto" and "New World versus Old"

My cup runneth over

At the start of the year Rosa blogged a recipe for "Hoppin John". As a Brit, I had never heard of such a dish which sent me rushing to Google to find out more about this traditional Southern US dish.

One question I have of Rosa, or anyone else who cares to answer, is why do Americans use Cups in their recipes? What is wrong with weights for solids and measures for liquids? A cup of a solid ingredient seems so imprecise (although I know cooking is an art not a science).

My theory is that in the pioneering days of the wild west the early settlers did not have access to sophisticated European devices like scales and graduated jugs so they made do with the basic kitchenware they had to hand.

Working from US cookbooks causes me a problem. How much is a cup? A typical UK recipe will quote both Imperial and Metric units, the conversion factors for which are well known and precise. As far as I can tell a cup is 8 fluid ounces or 240 ml (rounding a bit, in fact 1 fl oz = 28 ml not 30). So that will do for me.

On the nature of obsession

And he was alright, the band was all together *

Watching Thumpermonkey at the gig last Friday I was impressed by the level of musicianship. The musicians were well synchronised and the speed of Michael Woodman's fingerwork on the fret spoke eloquently of many thousands of hours of practice in a teenage bedrooms.

A number of years ago I saw a street entertainer at the Edinburgh festival on the slack wire. He used one foot to kick up and catch on his head first a saucer, then a cup and finally a teaspoon. After the second attempt with the teaspoon bounced out he remarked "I have to practice this a thousand times for you to see me do it once!". The third attempt was successful to great applause.

Now if someone washes their hands a hundred time a day, or checks and re-checks the chairs are exactly squared up to the table, or whatever, they are described as Obsessive-Compulsive. If a musician practices the scales, or a particular song, over and over and over and over till they get it right they are a dedicated perfectionist. Hmmm! It is indeed a thin line between genius and madness.

* Lady Stardust by David Bowie

There's a rat in mi kitchen

what am I gonna do? is the track that has been on repeat in the mental jukebox this week*. Well not actually in my kitchen but in the dustbin (US: trash can) where it had been for a week or so. I've no idea how it got in but the plastic sides were so smooth that it couldn't get out again. By the time I found it, it was an ex-rat, it had squeaked its last. So I bagged it up with the other domestic rubbish and it is now gone but the song remains...

* Rat in mi kitchen by UB40

You never can tell

Saturday night was another family outing, this time with Mum&Dad, Ian&Sarah and an Australian couple, friends of Ian's now living in London. We went to see George Bernard Shaw's "You Never Can Tell" at The Garrick.

Most enjoyable, more laugh-out-louds than I was expecting and some biting comments of the battle of the sexes. I do not know what impact it had when it first came out but 100 years on a number of the lines were s-o-o non-PC they caused a collective sharp intake of breath from the audience. I suspect deliberately provocative on GBS's part.

A fine ensemble cast with the old veteran Edward Fox providing ham so thick it should be on the Deli counter at Waitrose.

Thumpermonkey Gig Review

Friday night started of with supper at Quaglino's and a tour of the Three Emperors exhibition at the Royal academy. Some stunningly beautiful art and artifacts. Then for a drastic switch of culture from ancient to modern it was off to the Thumpermonkey gig at Storm in Leicester Square.

Thumpermonkey features Michael Hutchinson (the nephew formerly known as Ben) on bass, Michael Woodman on guitar and David Croshaw on drums. Family and friends were there to show support and pack out the venue. Michael H. definitely looked the part, v. cool and definitely into being a rock'n'roll star.

They did a half hour set which was good and loud. The music reminded me a little of Marilyn Manson but features plenty of changes of rhythm and tempo. I caught my food tapping at one point so 'old-fogey-ism' hasn't yet fully set in <G>. At the end of the set I bought the CD which has given me a better chance to appreciate the music. The volume of a live gig makes the ribcage vibrate and the ear hum afterwards so one gets more of the atmosphere than the subtleties of the composition.

Oh, and hello to the redhead to said she occasionally reads the blog.

Slitter, Shoggle and Snook

Saturday's Doric hilarity was triggered by using a new word I learned from May when the Scottish contingent were down just before Christmas, slitter: to eat or drink messily. I remarked that we had had to go via the cottage to change my clothes because I had slittered down my pullover and Effie almost fell off her chair laughing.

Scottish vernacular has some very useful words that are either far more evocative or seem to fit a concept more neatly than any English word. My favourites, noting Mary's Ayrshire variant spellings, are:

• shoggle: To sway, move unsteadily, to rock, wobble, swing. As is "Went for a shuggle on the Clockwork Orange" [Took a bumpy ride on the Glasgow Metro]
• snoke: To sniff, smell, scent out, as a dog, snuff, poke with the nose. As in "When we let Cleo out of the cat basket she has a good snook round"
• pouk: To pluck, twitch, tug, pull sharply. As in "That cat of yours has put a pook in my jumper"

Definitions courtesy of the Dictionary of the Scots Language.

See previous posts: [Laldy], [Shove yer Granny], [Sark].

Third cousins

Although this could have been titled "Home but not alone 3" [2] [1] or "Spend time with your family 2" [1]. Mary went up to Scotland to spend time with her mum which turned into a weekend of baby-sitting the wee 'uns so that George&Sandra could spend a child-free weekend in Dundee.

At Mary's prompting, it has to be gratefully acknowledged, I went and likewise spent the weekend with my Mum (and Dad, of course) which was much appreciated by Mum. Down to Farnham for Friday night and a meal at the local Italian.

Then Saturday we drove down to Winton near Bournemouth to visit my father's second cousins Ken&Effie (Euphemia) who I had not seen since our wedding in '93. Several hours were spent amusing them with my grasp of Doric (the dialect of Lowland Scots spoken in the north-east of Scotland) thanks to my having married an Ayrshire lass.

Then a quiet Saturday in just chatting and spending "quality time" with the Ageds. And a good thing too. As they get older I am ever more conscious of spending time with them while I still can. So another win for New Year's Resolution #4.

A weekend in Aqua Sulis

We went to The City of Bath to visit our friend Jane and incidentally getting another tick in the box for New Year's Resolution #4. She is Tim's mother and grandmother to Alex who is Mary's godson - though Mary's influence on his moral and spiritual upbringing might be hard to detect <GR&D>

She is a lovely lady, charming, elegant and so enthusiastic to have us visit. We arrived early and did a tour of the Roman Baths. Then round to Jane's flat in a Georgian house with a wonderful view for tea and biscuits. A dinner party in the evening with some local friends of Jane's passed a most enjoyable evening chatting till one in the morning.

Since Tim&Sarah live in Wimbledon only three miles away from us so we gave Jane firm instructions to warn us when she next visits so we can pop round and see her again.

Chez Bruce is superb

We have been fortunate to dine in some very fine restaurants lately (The Food Room, Homage, Le Gavroche, Sketch Lecture Room and Library, Mark Hix and more) but last night Chez Bruce surpassed them all.

We went there to celebrate Mary's birthday; it is only two miles from our house. We had been there a couple of times before including last Valentine's. Since Jamie Oliver said it was his favourite restaurant getting a reservation has become problematical. They had to introduce a 28 day booking window so I rang on December 28 to book last night and several time slots were already gone.

Normally I struggle to remember what I ate last night but not today. A creamy onion tart, a trio of pork, and a pear and almond tart. The flavours were just gorgeous throughout. We had a half of Pouilly Fuisse from Chateau Fuisse with the starters and a bottle of Santenay from Bernard Morey with the mains from a wine list with good range to suit all tastes and wallets.

We had some banter with the sommelier including one of my favorite ploys: instead of asking which wine goes with the food, I choose the wine then ask which food I should order, it is the best pairing I am after. He kindly offered a botrytis affected South African chenin blanc (Rudera Noble Late Harvest) that was not on the "by the glass" list and that could pass for a Sauternes any day. Dessert wine usually comes in 75cl thimble measures so I went for a second glass, this time switching to a Recioto de Soave which, while good, was overshadowed by the preceding wine.

If you know, in advance, that you are going to be in London plan ahead and book a place - it will be worth the trip.

Thumpermonkey Album Launch

10 February 2006 at Storm Nightclub, 28A Leicester Square, London WC2H 7LE. Onstage at 9:20pm.

"Thumpermonkey" is my eldest nephew's band* and they have the launch of their new album "Thumpermonkey Lives!: Chap with the wings, five rounds rapid" on 10 February 2006. Be there!

* Well, he is *in* it not that it is *his* band, you know what I mean.

PS I hope you have your haggis in ready for tonight's Burns supper.

Akira's Cousin

is nephew Chris' band http://www.akiras-cousin.co.uk/. Undergoing a rebuild but hopefully some tracks will be available for download soon...

Seems like they are getting some local gigs which is excellent. Mary&I went to Jane&Pete's on Saturday for a siblings-and-partners dinner party and Chris joined us at the end of the night having spent the evening playing jazz at a local wedding.

Eye contact avoidance

Mary and I sometimes joke that our waiter must have gone to the "International School of Eye Contact Avoidance" as they scan round the room looking but not seeing. It is very frustrating as you raise your head or lift an arm to attract their attention and their Teflon-coated gaze slithers over you as if you were invisible.

Not so in the *excellent* Food Room in Queenstown Road, Battersea. We ate there on Friday and the staff were superb. Every time I looked up someone would catch the movement out of the corner of their eye and look over. A series of micro-expressions would flicker back and forth, "Need anything?", "No just looking round", "Good, look up again if you do", break eye contact and on they'd go. I have to say that it probably because the manager and staff were all women; I have only ever noticed male waiters to be guilty of "customer-blindness".

Impressive though that was of course a restaurant stands by its food which was equally noteworthy. Courtesy of toptable: London Restaurants we had three delicious courses off the á là carte plus a welcome cocktail (glass of champagne) for only GBP 19.50 per head. Mind you we, as usual, bumped that up with a couple of bottles from their well balanced wine list. I agree with one reviewer who said you would easily pay twice as much in the West End. Definitely one to go back to.

The Tide Is High

but I'm holding on *

My mental jukebox is normally triggered by word association (see "Light Blue Car" and "Musical Malapropisms") but my cycle ride usually begins with the same two tracks cued by visual images.

It starts as I cycle into Battersea Reach (apartments *from* GBP 279,000) where all the hoardings are plastered with images of beautiful young things smiling, chatting, laughing, drinking wine and generally being nauseatingly trendy cool Yuppies and Dinkies. And off goes the play list starting with "Shiny Happy People" by REM.

Then I pass through the plaza and turn onto the Thames-side path. The first sight that greets me is a small stretch of river bank planted with water side plants. If the tide is out I get a view of a wide expanse of river mud and off goes track two, "The Tide Is High", and Blondie keeps me humming as far as the London Heliport.

* The Tide Is High by Blondie

Implementing the resolution

This was a busy weekend:

Friday: Pre-theatre drinks at Albannach followed by a production of Pirandello's As You Desire Me at the Playhouse. Afterwards an excellent meal at Homage at the Waldorf.

Saturday: Supper with Bron&Maggie and their four children. Bron probably counts as my longest standing friend (excluding the people I knew from college) as I have known him since 1979. I count this as a success for New Year's Resolution #4.

Sunday: Lunch with Mum&Dad. We are planning to publish limited edition prints of a couple of Dad's paintings and took one back to him for a minor touch up of one bashed corner. But that was just a pretext, it was really so we could spend three hours with them.

New Year’s Resolution #4

To reestablish contact with old friends.

That's it really. Friends, followers of this blog from the early days and those who have read the manifesto will understand that losses reinforce the wisdom of knowing who your friends are and spending time with them - family particularly. However there are many friends with whom the only contact is the annual Christmas Card. That will change.

I have a view that NYR's should be positively phrased, life enhancing things not "give up this" or "stop doing that". I rarely make them and so can easily enumerate those I have made in the past:

Resolution #1: To be more bad tempered and irritable. (1986) Triggered by a Christmas Eve failure to attracted the barman's attention, I resolved to be more assertive and outspoken of my needs (albeit whimsically phrased). This worked so well that, by September, I was overheard saying to my boss, "Ken, let me say this in words of one syllable that even you will understand." I left that company shortly thereafter and, the resolution having served its purpose, I reverted to mild-mannered Clark Kent mode.

Resolution #2: To date a different woman every month. (1989) Following the success of the first resolution I decided to overcome my shyness with women (stop sniggering at the back there!). I know, hard to believe looking at the man you know today. *cough* *cough* The way to deal with fear of rejection was not to seek for acceptance in the first place. The game was to invite a woman out for a meal, or theatre or whatever, simply for the pleasure of their company not because I fancied them and wanted to have carnival knowledge*.

Though it has to be said that in some cases I wouldn't have minded. As I said to Miss August there are three things she should know about older men: they are more sophisticated, they are more urbane and they don't play hard to get.

All was going well, even two Miss April and two Miss August, then I got to September and met Mary and the rest is history. All bets were off and I had to disappoint the Misses October, November and December who were already lined up.

* Old joke courtesy of Jasper Carrot. 

Resolution #3: To drink more French white wine. (c. 1995) Having weaning myself off sweet German wines by way of Rioja, Chianti, and Syrah from the Côtes du Rhone it was time to become more sophisticated in my drinking. So I resolved to extend my input by essaying something a little drier in the white department. A resolution that I have maintained to this day!

Marrakech Express

I should have warned both my readers that I would be off air for a week as Mary and I went for a bit of winter sun. My client had announced before Christmas that, as a cost saving measure, all contractors would be required to take an extended break. They back-pedalled from "three weeks" to "two out of three" following the outbreak of protests. Fifty-five percent of the personnel on the project are freelancers for whom no work means no money.

We decided that the enforced break was an ideal opportunity to get a bit of change of scenery. We picked Marrakech, Morroco as suitably southerly and exotic so we booked ourselves six nights in Riad Clementine and a business class BA flight out of Gatwick.

Rather than repeat the guidebooks (see Wikipedia on Marrakech for more), two things that stuck in the memory are:

Bazaar traffic: Even the smallest alley and souk was full of shriveled men in jellabi pulling handcarts, prehistoric bicycles weaving in and out, belching mopeds in equal numbers weaving with them, even small taxis if they could squeeze in. This in minute thoroughfares full of pedestrians. In the streets it got even madder with everyone just gently wafting in all directions. You crossed the road by simply walking out into the street and maintaining a steady pace while the traffic swerved round you. Unnerving till you get the hang of it.

Bizarre traffic: Some of the jellabi had pointy hoods which made them look like pixies on bicycles. When the garments were brown it was like seeing Jedi Knights on scooters. Weird, very weird.

Wines to drink with Christmas Pudding

or Plum Pudding as I believe the Americans call it.

OK it is a bit late for this year but make a note for next year. I was asked about this very topic a couple of weeks ago by a colleague but never dropped him an email with my suggestions so this is for Nigel to file away.

As luck would have it Bob presented a choice of five desert wines with Christmas Pudding on Boxing day all of which were on my list (and I will add my other suggestions at the end):

• Muscat de Beaume de Venise, Domain de Durban 2004
• Brown Brother Orange Flora and Muscat 2004
• Miranda Raisined Muscat 2002
• Commandaria, SODAP
• Matusalem, Gonzalez Byass, Oloroso Dulce Muy Viejo

To which I would add
• Asti, Italian sparkling
• Liqueur Muscat (e.g. Rutherglen)

The Miranda (from Majestic) was a great match and probably the best with the little known Cypriot Commandaria coming a close second but IMHO it was a photo finish.

A Merry Christmas to all our readers

I hope you all had as pleasant and relaxing a Christmas as we did. Ours followed a well trod path: The usual Farnham Potlatch the Sunday before Christmas to exchange gifts with my family. Then we took the Friday off so we could get down to the cottage on Thursday night thus avoiding the pre-holiday traffic jams. Christmas day we hosted Bob&Lynn plus Lynne's parents, Pam&John, to a five course lunch with goose as the bird and some fine wines. Then Boxing Day B&L reciprocated.

Our meal finished with a 1955 Taylor's Port and an excellent selection of cheesy comestibles from Neal's Yard Dairy in Covent Garden. That is another thing I love about living in London, Mary can phone me up, I can pop out at lunchtime and in five minutes I am in one of the finest cheese shops in the country. In and out in 10 minutes with three kilos of the tastiest of cheeses.

A colleague of Mary's left it too close to Christmas and had to queue out the shop and down the street. The gentleman in front of her announced that he had come to collect a cheddar - a whole truckle and they are big! When offered the use of a trolley to convey it to his car he said "No thanks my chauffeur will carry it". He completed his shopping and left with over 550 pounds worth (USD 950) of cheese, now that is what I call a cheese board.

Gullible's Travels by Ring Lardner

The answer is "Lardner" not "Peters" assuming some crossword compiler has reused the clue from New York Times crossword puzzle on 09 November 2005. See earlier post Gullible's Travels by Cash Peters

Read the Lardner version here: Gullible's Travels by Ring Lardner.

Or buy the Cash Peters version at Amazon.com Gullible's Travels : The Adventures of a Bad Taste Tourist

Christmas Daffodil at Le Gavroche

Saturday was the Daffodil Dining Club's Christmas meal at Le Gavroche. We had the Scottish contingent down for the weekend: mother-in-law May, sister-in-law Sandra, husband George and their two children, nine-year-old Ross and five-year-old Sarah.

As it was Sandra's birthday on Saturday and George's on Monday we treated them to the meal as a double birthday present. Micheal Roux himself came round and signed their menus with birthday wishes which made for an excellent souvenir. We were also joined by usual suspects Pete&Amanda. Seven courses this time with the high-light being foie gras and the duck "pastilla".

Canapes

The House of Albert Roux "Lenoble" Grand Cru Blanc de Blancs

Ragout D'Huitres et Coquilles St. Jacques aux Truffes et Poireaux

Pernand Vergelesses 2001 Domaine Chanson

Escalope de Foie Gras Chaud et Pastilla a la Cannelle

Pinot Gris "Selection de Grains Nobles" 2000 Trimbach

Filet de Rouget au Vin Rouge et Crouton a la Moelle, Ragout de Pleurotes et Persil

Nuit Saints Georges "Vielles Vignes" 2001 Domaine Chevillon

Noisette de Chevreuil a la Souce Poivrade et Airelles

Chataux La Croix St. Georges 1997 Pomerol

Le Plateau de Fromages Affines

Chateau Cabezac "Belvize" 2002 Minervois

Christmas Pudding

Vin de Constance 2000 Klein Constantia

Cafe, Petits Fours & Mince Pies

Unlike the previous Daffodil the sommeliers hung back on the white wines so we were in a fit state to appreciate the reds *and* did not need a siesta when we got back home.

May had drawn the baby-sitting short straw and we returned to find the Christmas tree decorated by the wee'uns under her supervision: chilli lights from New Orleans - very festive :-)

Office Christmas Party

Last night was the client's Christmas party, held at the London Trocadero. I did not go as even the offer of free food and wine is not enough of an incentive, I need good company as well and as most of my team colleagues were not going I decided not to either. As it turns out the straw poll round the floor just happened to hit the refuseniks and in fact I would have had company there. Oh well. I await reports as to how the evening went.

On the other hand last Thursday was the far more exclusive M&M Enterprises Christmas do. It was late night shopping in Oxford Street so Mary and I met up after work to go in search of designer handbags for me to give to Mary for Christmas. An abortive tour of [Debenhams' correction] Selfridge's leather goods section revealed many outrageously priced reticules but none that met madam's exacting requirements so we adjourned to Sketch Lecture Room and Library for supper which we declared to be our company Christmas party and therefore tax-deductable.

It was superb, as you would expect from a Michelin one-star, and I await Mary's write-up, meanwhile you can Google "sketch library restaurant reviews". We went for the six course taster menu at GBP 90 per head and went middle of the carte du vin. The consensus view is that the food is superb and the price outrageous so don't go unless you are prepared for that and want the gastronomic experience. Like shop windows without prices: "If you have to ask the price, you can't afford to shop there".

Oh, mister porter, what shall I do?

I wanted to go to Birmingham, but they've carried me on to Crewe. *

Saturday night saw a personal first... I fell asleep on the train and missed my stop. Having spent the evening with J&A in St Albans I caught the 10:04 train back to King's Cross Thameslink. Unfortunately, despite the modest libations, my eyelids grew heavy and the train whisked me through KX, across London, over the Thames and was heading out the other side.

I awoke with a start to find I was at *lovely* Elephant and Castle. As luck would have it the train was not headed for Brighton and Hove or Hastings but, far more modestly, Wimbledon. So I sat it out, did a backward zag-zig to Clapham Junction and Wandsworth Town and arrived home half an hour later than originally anticipated.

Note to self: Set timer on phone next trip.

* Marie Lloyd

Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl

but she doesn't have a lot to say *

They say that HM must think the world smells of fresh paint. She must also feel a bit like Moses parting the Red Sea as traffic jams miraculously melt away at her approach.

Yesterday morning as I turned right off Horse Guards Road onto the Mall there was a flurry of Police motor bikes. Heading towards me from Buck House were two sleek and well fed cars.

The front car was, I think, a Bentley discreetly crested and probably contained "Brenda" and "Phil the Greek" but it was hard to tell as she didn't wave to me :-(

The second car was a jet black Daimler with a matrix sign on the back parcel shelf that flashed "Police" ... "Keep" ... "Back". Somehow it did not seem like a request more an order. So I did, not wanting to invoke a sense of humour failure.

Instead of doing their normal leapfrog routine and stopping the side road traffic they took the simple expedient of driving straight through the wrong side of Admiralty arch and *poof* just like that, they were gone.

* Her Majesty by the Beatles

Puglian Bicycle Thief

Last week was busy at work so I had no time to blog. This weekend we were in Puglia for the last visit of the year so I had no technology to blog. The works progress slowly but steadily, with the emphasis more on the slow than the steady.

The excitement of the weekend was catching a bicycle thief red-handed. Between visits everything is put away indoors and securely locked up but while we were there I put the bikes out in the Lamia chained together.

On Saturday night I heard noises and, given we are near the end of a secluded, dead-end dirt track, I went out to investigate. There was a bloke struggling with two bikes and heavy-duty bolt cutters trying to get them out the Lamia door. He appeared to speak no English but body language is pretty international. Mine was unambiguous as I grabbed him, shoved him up against the wall, stuck my nose millimeters from his and said rude words at loud volume.

He seemed pretty scared and engaged the gibbering coward circuits as he made for his van. Mary came out and joined us for more shouting of the limited vocabulary variety including the Italian for "thief" and "police tomorrow". We took a note of his van number and a photograph which sent his craven cringing into overdrive as we let him go. The flash flashed but unfortunately the camera battery was so flat we got no usable image. However he doesn't know that and hopefully has slept very badly the last couple of nights.

The Zind-Humbrecht Dinner

Special Guest Olivier Humbrecht MW. Hosted by David Berry Green, Buyer. Friday 18 November 2005. Another BBR dining extravaganza:

2002 Muscat. Herrenweg

aperitif

2001 Riesling, Clos Windsbuhl

Baked rainbow trout with toasted almonds

2002 Riesling, Brand

Crispy sea bass with a lime, lemongrass and coconut sauce

2001 Tokay Pinot Gris, Rangen de Thann

Pork with caramelised honey and citrus sauce with crushed new potatoes and seasonal vegetables

19883 Gewurztraminer, Rangen de Than, Vendage Tardive

Selection of cheese and fresh fruit

1986 Tokay Pinot Gris, Rotenberg, Selection des Grains Nobles

Pear and frangipane tart with hazelnut praline

Marc

Berrys' selected coffee and mints

I have always had a soft spot for Zind-Humbrecht ever since I discovered their Gewurztraminer, Herrenweg Turkheim some twenty years ago. It is every thing that one could hope for in a dessert wine, complex flavours (a veritable fruit bowl of exotic fruits), unctuousness, sweetness without being cloying thanks to a hint of noble rot. I love it and I was looking forward to this dinner.

One of the pleasures of these dinners is that you get to hear from the winemakers themselves. For a twelfth generation wine producer Olivier had a refreshing amount of enthusiasm for his subject. As well as the wines themselves he did an excellent job of covering the history of the region, the domaine itself and biodynamics. The latter has a more than a hint of hew age hippydom about it but results in some very sensible, sustainable, organic farming practices. As, Olivier said "the proof is in the glass".

Apart from the marc which was, like 99.99 percent of the grappa breed, rocket fuel.

Art by Architects

I may be biased but I think my father is a talented artist, and so does the Association of Consultant Architects as they selected both the pictures that he submitted for their Vision 05 Art by Architects exhibition. The family gathered for a private viewing last week at the gallery just off Sloane Square and then adjourned across the road for tapas and a good old natter.

Guilt-free surfing

Mary is at the wine bar round the corner with Andrea A. and I am catching up on random "follow that link" surfing. One was of great interest, the other made me laugh:

"Two nations divided by a common language"* points to two execellent wikipedia entries
"Lego Escher" does what is says on the tin. <LOL>

* Of course you knew the correct quote is "separated" by a common language.

Gullible's Travels by Cash Peters

Buy at Amazon.com Gullible's Travels : The Adventures of a Bad Taste Tourist

I can only presume that someone in the US media made mention of Gullible's Travels : The Adventures of a Bad Taste Tourist by Cash Peters as I have had a flurry of North American hits from Google.com.

Nice to know I am global number one ranked for "gullible's travels" though I suspect this blog is not what they were looking for. I must buy the book myself as it has excellent reviews.

Which is more than can be said of this blog. Those extra vistors certainly cannot be as a result of the write up at The Weblog Review. Babz wrote a "damn with faint praise" review and gave me a rating of 2. That is hardly going to bring a flood of visitors. Still at least it shows there is room for improvement :-/

The Fine Wines of The Montrachet

Another OTT evening at BBR. This time "Exploring Great Burgundy - The Fine Wines of The Montrachet" tutored by Jasper Morris MW, Buying Director.

 • Wine 1: 2000 Chassagne-Montrachet, 'Les Chaumées', 1er Cru, Domaine Michel Niellon
 • Wine 2: 2000 Puligny-Montrachet, 'Les Pucelles', 1er Cru, Domaine Leflaive
 • Wine 3: 2000 Criots-Bâtard-Montrachet, Grand Cru, Domaine Belland
 • Wine 4: 1999 Bienvenues-Bâtard-Montrachet, Grand Cru, Etienne Sauzet
 • Wine 5: 1988 Bâtard-Montrachet, Grand Cru, Domaine Leflaive
 • Wine 6: 1999 Chevalier-Montrachet, 'Les Demoiselles', Grand Cru, Louis Latour
 • Wine 7: 1996 Chevalier-Montrachet, Grand Cru, Domaine Leflaive
 • Wine 8: 1999 Le Montrachet, Grand Cru, Marquis de Laguiche, Joseph Drouhin

What can I say. I could say they were superb, elegant, etc. but I would be bull-bluffing. Very drinkable but way beyond my capacity to appreciate the subtleties. At prices ranging from GBP 52 to GBP 357 per bottle(!) I will not be rushing out to buy a case or two. In fact most of the wines were limited availability (from 35 bottles to 1 last remaining bottle) so I couldn't even if I had the money *and* the inclination.

Shopping in Puglia

This weekend it was shopping in Puglia. One half of the Hovel-in-the-Hills™ is almost finished. Enough for Mary's Mum and sister to come out for a weekend of shopping.

We flew out Saturday evening and on Sunday hit the hyper-market Emmezeta on the outskirts of Fasano, about 20 minutes drive away. They filled two trolleys with crockery, kettles, pots and pans and all the other impedimenta need to kit out a new home. We even needed a third trolley to deal with scanning through the checkout.


Conical Trulli roofs from the roof of the Lamia

The building was further progressed than our last visit but still not complete. The sink and hob are in but the oven, though working, has yet to be fully fitted. The walls are white-washed and look good but the floors have yet to be grouted and cleaned. Best of all the Nordica wood burning stove was installed and we had it going most of the weekend keeping us warm and helping to drive out some of the dampness.

Daniele had forgotten to organise the furniture delivery so we arranged for that to happen on Monday. By the time the "Girls" had finished the place was looking well settled and very much the holiday home-from-home.

Yahrzeit for Oscar

Friday just past it was one year since Oscar the cat died [The Saddest News About Oscar]. I raised a glass of champagne with Mary to absent friends and lit a candle in front of a small statuette we have of two cats. With his death a little bit of joy left my life. I mourn his passing and do my best to remember the joy he brought me.

Jabba the shed

When I wrote yesterday's post I could not for the life of me remember what Sunday's DIY had been. Now I remember: it was assembling a Bike shed from Homebase. As yet the shed does not have a name.

At Avon cottage we have four compost bins (not counting the fifth "Bin With No Name" down by the dustbins). The first three I bought at the same time and christened Tom, Dick and Harry after the tunnels in "The Great Escape". When we added a fourth I wanted it to be called Selene (after the Greek goddess of the moon) but Mary named it Gertrude (after Gertrude Jekyll the garden designer).

Then we bought a shed and I decided it too should have a name. I thought long and hard. All of a sudden inspiration struck - I would call it Jabba. I haven't stopped chortling since.

Now we have another (bike) shed and I am once again searching for inspiration and a name. Suggestions welcome.

A weekend of DIY

The weekend was not all post house-move DIY tasks. We started with a trip to Cineworld Wandsworth to see Wallace & Gromit in The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. We went with Tim&Sarah and their two children Alex&Zoe. A cracking film and no chav brawls outside the Spotted Dog.

Most of Saturday was very productively spent doing handyman tasks that went smoothly - not always the case! Bathroom shelf, cabinet and loo roll holder all sorted. Plus Mary did major wine shuffling in the cellar.

Sunday we had Mum&Dad round for a very enjoyable Sunday lunch followed by a little more DIY. There will be more in the weeks and months to follow I am sure. It is best to get as much done as possible in the early days or the danger is it never does get done.

Oh yes, and I am in Zurich today.

Garden furniture for cheap

Moving house has meant shopping and lots of it. All managed by the distaff side natch. This has meant everything from K&B knick-knacks to bed linen to furniture to a whole new shower room, central heating boiler and kitchen re-fit (though we are staggering the latter).

Now we have a garden we, of course, had to get some garden furniture as well. And here we had a bit of a result. I say *we* but my contribution was to pack an astonishing amount of teak into a BMW, drive it home and lug it into the house.

Courtesy of Criterion Riverside Auctions we bid for, and got, two and a half grand's worth of table, chairs, loungers, side tables, lazy Susan, parasol and cushions for a paltry 850 quid. OK they are second hand having been used as display items and lugged around from fair to exhibition but then what would new ones be like after a summer in the garden?

See, I am in touch with my feminine side. Isn't this is simply a variant of "I bought this in the sales, look at the money I've saved"?

Garden redesign at Avon Cottage

Nikki, a friend from CSC, recently took the same escape route that I did some six years ago and is now a person of leisure. Her passion is gardening and so we have commissioned her to do a small piece of work at the cottage.

She spent most of the weekend working in our garden with Mary and I pottering around her. I got co-opted for the occasional heavy bits like uprooting a Kilmarnock Willow.

The primary target was the bed next to the drive at the front and the first thing you see as you arrive at the cottage. Now completely dug out and dug over and re-planted with mostly evergreen silver-through-grey foliage.

In a few weeks time the secondary objective is to re-jig the flower beds at the back, adjacent to the house. That will involve some rose removal and shrub relocation. I have no idea what will take their place but all will be revealed soon enough.

The Great Chefs' Dinner with Mark Hix

Another extravagant meal at BBR on Friday evening. They are running a series of designer chef evenings. Mark Hix runs The Ivy, Le Caprice and J. Sheekey.

Wild Duck and Elderberry salad

2000 Chablis Valmur, Grande Cru, Domaine Jean-Claude Bessin

Rock Eel 'Forrestiere'

2003 Dolcetta d'Alba, Luciano Sandrone

Braeburn Apple and Blackberry Jelly

2003 Coteaux du Lauon "St Auban", Domaine des Forges

Stinking Bishop with Oat Cakes and Onion Chutney

"Tonel 12" 10yr old Tawny Port, Quinta de la Rosa

Berrys' selected coffee and mints

Odd and brave to pair white wine with duck and red with fish. Mary thought they went well, I was less convinced. OTOH the Coteaux du Layon went superbly with the apple jelly.

The food was good but not brilliant and definitely NOT Value For Money. Having eaten Mark Hix's food and read the restaurant reviews (always a slightly biased source) I will not be rushing to book a place at the Ivy or Caprice although Sheekey might be worth a go.

Do something amazing

Give Blood goes the slogan. And so I did on Wednesday for the first time in about six years. Shameful that it took me so long really since I have been on this contract and in a stable location for over a year.

I always have been an erratic donor; it has taken me 30 years to get into the mid-teens. I am not sure exactly how many since the little paper tokens fell out of my donor card years ago and it is all computerised now anyway so I have become a man without a past.

I do remember my first donation back in 1975 for two reasons:

• Firstly, I stood up too quickly and nearly fainted. It was then I decided that 9¼ stone (59 kilo) was too light and spend the following period trying to eat more pasta and put a few pounds on.

• Secondly, the NBS wrote to me saying "Your blood group is of a type not often met with." Made me feel like Tony Hancock in The Blood Donor. Gone now, that card, it said I was negative donor but positive recipient (or was it the other way round). No matter, if it is an emergency they stuff you full of Type O and other times they test you first.

If you are able to give blood please do. For most of us it is the only chance we have to genuinely save lives.

Home but not alone (2)

Unlike a previous Home but not alone this time I had a productive weekend. Mary was away Saturday and Sunday on an NLP Practitioner course and I was again Home but not alone.

For company I had the cat and a prodigious "To Do" list occupying a full sheet of A4 (double column). Priority One tasks were house-move related: fix the door and window locks, un-box the hi-fi, clear the smallest bedroom of boxes, write to the council (times several), unblock the moss from the drainpipe and so on...

Low on fun but high on job satisfaction. Ticking off things that needed to be done leaves a satisfying and slightly smug sensation.

Going back to my roots

* It would appear that our new house is less than three miles from my father's place of birth. He was born in Cambridge Mansions in Cambridge Road, SW11 and not as I have always, erroneously, believed Streatham.

At 81 my father is ever more aware of his own mortality. Last month he sent me a list of account details so that, as eldest son and joint executor, I would have an easier time sorting out his estate when the time comes.

He also recently traded in his old VW Polo for a Honda Jazz. He remarked that it would probably be the last car he buys until he gives up driving or, in his words, 'hands in his dinner pail'.

So I cycled past the mansions on my way in to work yesterday. Strange to look at that red brick block of flats and think my father was born there. I never knew that. And so more more about him I will probably never know. Roots indeed. <mood="thoughtful">

* Goin' back to my roots by Odissey

Isaac Newton invented the cat flap

I am much indebted to ScaryDuck for pointing me at the wonderful factoid that Isaac Newton invented the cat flap. It is in Wikipedia so it must be true.

House Warming

Saturday was a far more enjoyable social event as we had not such much a party more an "At Home". The afternoon was mostly friends with children, the evening mostly those without. Sufficiently well spread out it was possible to get to talk to most everyone and give them the guided tour.

The day reinforced an insight from Friday night's gathering. On Friday evening the most frequent question was "What have you been up to for the past thirty years?" The answers mostly described points on the emotional trajectory of people's lives. For example, met wife in 76, had first child in 81, moved to Erewhon in 93, and so on. With children easily being the most important.

Having no children myself my answers lay upon three similar emotional dimensions:
* women: as a serial monogamist only Mary counts and I stop there
* home: and the new house really feels home from day one
* work: a poor third for them and me, going self employed being the only datum of note

Hertford College Gaudy

Friday night was the Hertford College Gaudy (college reunion dinner) as previously mentioned (Weird in a deja vue kind of way). Off to Oxford straight from work with my Moss Bros DJ in tow, Arrived just in time for the pre-dinner sherry followed by a very nice meal and a couple of pints down the college bar. Like Cinderella, I fled at midnight as I had a house-warming to attend on Saturday (my own).

The real pleasure was catching up with Alan who left at the end of the first year to go to Manchester University (not UMIST as I incorrectly wrote earlier). He came back to visit once every term for the next three years. He reminded me of what I had forgotten, that I went to visit him after college on a trip to the lake district. Mike was in good form but Pete was as sneering and cynical as ever and Vince was a no show as expected.

For me it was a chance to discuss with the others whether the college years were as miserable as I remember them. Mary says I paint too negative picture and should balance it with the plus points but for me there are not enough of those to tip the scales. The reasons why I did not enjoy college are many and varied but the margin is too narrow... Certainly looking round a roomful of strangers in black tie I felt zero affinity with those hallowed halls and maybe a little jealousy of those with fond memories, a sense of camaraderie and rose-tinted nostalgia.

Puglian Diary

Apologies to both my readers. We have been on holiday in Puglia for the first real holiday in the Hovel-in-the-Hills™. Or so we thought... Catching up with a summary of the posts I would have made if I could:

Wednesday, September 14, 2005: Our first guest

Mary's old friend Andrea came to visit the new Wandsworth house. As it was a long haul back to Essex, "A" became the first to sleep in our guest room.

Friday, September 16, 2005: Family seal of approval

Had all my family (Mum&Dad, Jane&Pete, Ian&Sarah and a nephew for good measure) around for a Chinese take-away and a tour of inspection. They give the new abode the thumbs up.

Saturday, September 17, 2005: Curate's hovel

Off to Italy, BA business class out of Gatwick. Daniele over-promised and under-delivered. We had hot water and a toilet that flushed but no cooker, no sink, no fridge, no furniture (apart from the beds), the plaster still drying on the walls pumping humidity into the air.

Sunday, September 18, 2005: Internal Wildlife

Mind you on the plus side the turkish gheckoes were back and joined by a tiny scorpion (2 cm) and a horde of woodlice. These woodlice are HUGE like some relic from the Paleozoic - most impressive!

Monday, September 19, 2005: Walk like Groucho

The arch into the bath room has been preserved in its original form and height of approx 170 cm. After head-butting the limestone on the way in and out I soon learned to genuflect and walk like Groucho Marx

Tuesday, September 20, 2005: Birthday boy

53 today. And a fine leather briefcase from Mary which she bought at the airport and smuggled past me by holding the bag in plain view. Fat use I would be as a witness. Had supper cooked for us by neighbours Anne&Henry.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005: Relocating to Anne&Henry's

The power blew and took the hot water with it. So we took up Anne&Henry's kind offer of the use of their guest Trulli.

Saturday, September 24, 2005: Thunderstorms in Puglia

For two days. Not the sunshine and 28°C the 10 day forecast promised.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005: Reading the riot act

We had a second meeting with Daniele and gave him a mildly hard time about his delivery promises. We know the house will be beautiful in the end, we know that the pace of life is slower down there and he knows we are back in a month with Mary's mum and sister.

Thursday, September 29, 2005: Back in Blighty

And home again. Ah the luxury of so many airmiles we could travel business class.

We've moved house

And hard work it was too. Saturday was a bit hectic, moving all the stuff out of the flat so we could get the spring cleaners in and then take an inventory. As it was they turned up early and were co-opted as boxers of belongings. Then they cleaned round us as Mary shuttled more stuff along the road to the house and I assembled furniture.

Ten hours I spend assembling the best that Ikea Croydon could provide, five on Saturday, five on Sunday. That is how they keep the cost down, of course, by using the punter's labour. All I can say is thank God for the cordless electric screwdriver; an absolute essential for this kind of stuff.

By Sunday night when the first of the tenants arrived it was all looking pretty spick and span, gleaming with brand new furniture, beds and kitchen appliances still in their boxes. Mind you the house is a mess with boxes piled randomly all over the place. It will take a month there to unpack and put everything into its rightful place.

Moving house with a wheelbarrow

Well not *actually* a wheel barrow, more a GBP 39.99 Load Carrier from Argos, but the principle remains the same. The last three evenings have been spent shuttling back and forth the 79 paces between our two front doors with crates of kitchen wares, unruly plank pieces of pine beds, the carcass of a chest of drawers, a double mattress and much more besides.

Hot and sweaty work. My advice: children don't try this at home!

We're moving house

Now the "cone of silence" has been lifted and I can reveal that we are moving house. At first SWMBO said not to tell anyone in case it all went pear-shaped. Even after we exchanged contracts force of habit made me keep schtum.

It is all part of the grand plan to sell Avon Cottage in four years time, clear our debts and downshift to Italy. We would live in the Hovel-in-the-Hills™, reinvest in a UK based property and work here part time. The principle is still good, it is the sequencing that is all to cock.

Discussing where to live I remarked that all the considerations that made us choose Wandsworth for our current London base still hold good so Mary went surfing - "just to check out the area". Our requirements are very specific and, *expletive*deleted*, if the ideal property didn't pop up two weeks later. A unique property that might not come on the market again for a very long time.

What to do? The horns of a dilemma! So we said, what the heck, and we bought it. We are converting the flat into a buy-to-let mortgage, renting it out and we are moving *literally* three doors down the street.

Reap just what you sow

Catching up. This should have been Friday's post but I was entertaining the Scottish relations...

Wednesday evening I spent a very enjoyable evening with Mum and Dad down in Farnham. Caught the train straight from work. Amongst the topics was the GCSE results for the nephews. Jane's Tom got seven A's, one B and one C. Ian's Tom got eight A's and one B. Lorenzo (Ian's eldest) got three A's for his A-levels. Well done all of them!

Dad was saying how proud he was of all of them and how lucky he was to have such grandsons. I was reminded of the old Gary Player quote "the harder I practice, the luckier I get".

Of course it isn't luck. He passed on the genetic raw material and the inclination to use it to his children. They in turn chose their mates in similar vein and the grandchildren are the result of that.

* Perfect Day by Lou Reed