I am back up in the North. I am not working the weekend for the first time in a long time. And yesterday The Wiganer and I celebrated my belated birthday and her new job by going to a spa, courtesy of Dragon Mr Bannatyne.
I'm not good at spas. I can't sit still, get easily distracted and often a little bored. Plus I am incredibly ticklish and never having had a massage, shy away from the idea because they are a lot of money to spend to feel uncomfortable because you are desperately trying not to wriggle.
But The Wiganer and I put all this aside, and went. We went to the gym (I sweated, The Wiganer did not). And then we went for a swim, and then into the jacuzzi and then steam room and sauna (as predicted I lasted approximately 90seconds before I started fidgeting, getting too hot, annoying every other resident of said hot room, and I had to leave).
And suddenly it was time for our massages (The Wiganer had bought two for both of us - BEST PRESENT EVER). I really was a little nervous. I am REALLY ticklish, and whenever I have a pedicure there is an uncomfortable few minutes when I really do have to wrestle with myself to keep from kicking the poor pedicurist in the face.
I went in, lay down putting the my face carefully in the hole (not like The Wiganer who rammed hers in with such force that she had an interesting red ring around most of her face) and the massage began.
It was wonderful. It wasn't tickly (well, there was a little wriggling at one point) it was relaxing and therapeutic and wonderful.
Afterwards it was all I could do to get up. And as we showered and got ready for dinner I felt light as air. I am getting one again, and for those of you that are in similar financial straits as myself - look at the London College of Beauty Therapy and you can a full body massage for £20 from a trainee therapist.
After spa the celebrations carried on with dinner at Wagamamas, and cocktails in Deansgate (may I recommend the beautiful roof terrace in the Deansgate pub/bar). We had Lychee and Prosecco martinis and bellinis. Perfect.
Friday 20 August 2010
Thursday 12 August 2010
Being a grown-up
After several weeks of fighting my freezer, this weekend I came to realise that my freezer was not just too full, or on slanted floor, or that the door had changed shape - I has to face the reality as to why it wasn't closing properly. It needed defrosting.
Having consulted housemates, we realised that none of us had any idea how to do this (a phone call to a helpful mother, and a quick google consultation rectified this) and that we would also have a vast array of frozen food that would need to be dealt with.
The first thought was party. But we had to defrost it mid-week (the situation was near breaking point - we could not wait til the weekend). So the next option was a mass cook-a-thon, as we realised that we could cook frozen chicken into a curry, and then freeze the curry - genius!
The next day I had totally forgotten about the cook-a-thon and was happily preparing to watch Inception (totally brilliant - really really recommend it). I got in the front door, ready for a 45minute turnaround and was confronted by a mountain of frozen chicken and nearly a kilo of frozen prawns. And I had bought no sauce of any kind.
Now, my family are very evenly split when it comes to cooking. Both my mother and father are two of the worst cooks, possibly in the history of the modern world. my grandmother, while a good cook, hated it with a passion, and sadly this did sometimes feel apparent in her food. Yet my sister, aunty, Deda and my step-mother are all truly inspired chefs, and not only does the food look and taste great, but they geniuinely love it.
I am almost exactly in the middle. I oscillate wildly between loving to cook, and getting irritated and angry and frustrated, until I eventually abandon the whole thing to the bin and get a takeaway. Some concoctions work wonderfully, others, less well (note - do NOT subtitute oil for butter in cake - it does not work).
Luckily last week I was blessed with a good humour, and some even better inspiration. I cooked up the prawns with veg and thai green curry paste and made a vat of the stuff (keeps in the fridge - ate that a lot for lunch that week). And with all the chicken breasts I was a little more adventurous.
First I chopped two red onions and a load of garlic. I softened them over a low heat with some olive oil, and then added the chicken. I then added about two tablespoons of paprika, a pinch of sugar, some seasoning, two chopped peppers, and a tin of tomatoes. I may have added other things, but was limited to the minimalist contents of my cupboards.
I left it all bubbling away while I showered, dressed and made myself presentable for said date with the Boyfriend. I finally turned off the heat as I was pulling the front door closed.
When we returned from the cinema, we were starving (Inception is a great film, but a long one) and so I heated up some of the stew, made a healthy portion of cous cous (fast food of choice as it takes approximately 3 minutes to cook and is less hit and miss than rice) and I may have made it myself by god, it was DELICIOUS.
Having consulted housemates, we realised that none of us had any idea how to do this (a phone call to a helpful mother, and a quick google consultation rectified this) and that we would also have a vast array of frozen food that would need to be dealt with.
The first thought was party. But we had to defrost it mid-week (the situation was near breaking point - we could not wait til the weekend). So the next option was a mass cook-a-thon, as we realised that we could cook frozen chicken into a curry, and then freeze the curry - genius!
The next day I had totally forgotten about the cook-a-thon and was happily preparing to watch Inception (totally brilliant - really really recommend it). I got in the front door, ready for a 45minute turnaround and was confronted by a mountain of frozen chicken and nearly a kilo of frozen prawns. And I had bought no sauce of any kind.
Now, my family are very evenly split when it comes to cooking. Both my mother and father are two of the worst cooks, possibly in the history of the modern world. my grandmother, while a good cook, hated it with a passion, and sadly this did sometimes feel apparent in her food. Yet my sister, aunty, Deda and my step-mother are all truly inspired chefs, and not only does the food look and taste great, but they geniuinely love it.
I am almost exactly in the middle. I oscillate wildly between loving to cook, and getting irritated and angry and frustrated, until I eventually abandon the whole thing to the bin and get a takeaway. Some concoctions work wonderfully, others, less well (note - do NOT subtitute oil for butter in cake - it does not work).
Luckily last week I was blessed with a good humour, and some even better inspiration. I cooked up the prawns with veg and thai green curry paste and made a vat of the stuff (keeps in the fridge - ate that a lot for lunch that week). And with all the chicken breasts I was a little more adventurous.
First I chopped two red onions and a load of garlic. I softened them over a low heat with some olive oil, and then added the chicken. I then added about two tablespoons of paprika, a pinch of sugar, some seasoning, two chopped peppers, and a tin of tomatoes. I may have added other things, but was limited to the minimalist contents of my cupboards.
I left it all bubbling away while I showered, dressed and made myself presentable for said date with the Boyfriend. I finally turned off the heat as I was pulling the front door closed.
When we returned from the cinema, we were starving (Inception is a great film, but a long one) and so I heated up some of the stew, made a healthy portion of cous cous (fast food of choice as it takes approximately 3 minutes to cook and is less hit and miss than rice) and I may have made it myself by god, it was DELICIOUS.
Monday 9 August 2010
Enjoy it while you can
At the weekend the Boyfriend and I did what we normally do. We got up late, read papers, had a brunchy type meal to help the hangover and then went for a walk. Due to a sudden torrential downpour we had to take shelter in a nearby pub (the recently re-furbished Frog in Clapham Old town - v. nice and recommend it).
We sat down with drinks and felt really cosy (despite it being August) watching the rain pour.
And then.... enter family stage left.
A yummy mummy (chanel sunnies, sass and bide skinnnies and a Velvet vest top, complete with Louboutins) came in with two little boys. Being hopeless at guessing the age of anyone, let alone two small people, I can only surmise that one could only just walk, while the elder could walk, talk and throw things.
In she came, and whipped them both into high chairs. While she rooted about in her bag the older one started eating the napkin and stabbing another napkin with a fork. The younger started banging his knife on the table and shouting "wah wah wah". Mummy then gave them both some toy cars; the younger hurled them to the floor, while the older continued to eat the napkin.
They both were given juice cartons, which excited the younger SO much that he drank it all in one and promptly vomited Ribena all over himself and the floor. By this point Daddy had turned up.
Eventually their food arrived. The older one was more interested in the ketchup than the chips. He dipped his finger in the pot and quickly licked it off, keeping his eyes on his father constantly. Just as he was pulling his finger out of the ketchup and propelling it mouthwards his father turned, saw what was happening and said very sternly "DON'T YOU DARE PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH". His son's response.... to quickly suck the ketchup off anyway.
By this point the Boyfriend and I were quite literally in hysterics. Which I'm sure did not help in the slightest. Luckily the parents too had a sense of humour. The father looked over at us, smiled and said "you just wait. Enjoy it while you can".
Playing witness to this hilarious epsiode brightened our otherwise selfish and childless weekend. But as we walked back home it suddenly dawned on me that when you have children EVERY MEAL, EVERY DAY would be like that. And it then seemed much less entertaining.
I'm not sure that motherhood is beckoning quite yet.
We sat down with drinks and felt really cosy (despite it being August) watching the rain pour.
And then.... enter family stage left.
A yummy mummy (chanel sunnies, sass and bide skinnnies and a Velvet vest top, complete with Louboutins) came in with two little boys. Being hopeless at guessing the age of anyone, let alone two small people, I can only surmise that one could only just walk, while the elder could walk, talk and throw things.
In she came, and whipped them both into high chairs. While she rooted about in her bag the older one started eating the napkin and stabbing another napkin with a fork. The younger started banging his knife on the table and shouting "wah wah wah". Mummy then gave them both some toy cars; the younger hurled them to the floor, while the older continued to eat the napkin.
They both were given juice cartons, which excited the younger SO much that he drank it all in one and promptly vomited Ribena all over himself and the floor. By this point Daddy had turned up.
Eventually their food arrived. The older one was more interested in the ketchup than the chips. He dipped his finger in the pot and quickly licked it off, keeping his eyes on his father constantly. Just as he was pulling his finger out of the ketchup and propelling it mouthwards his father turned, saw what was happening and said very sternly "DON'T YOU DARE PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH". His son's response.... to quickly suck the ketchup off anyway.
By this point the Boyfriend and I were quite literally in hysterics. Which I'm sure did not help in the slightest. Luckily the parents too had a sense of humour. The father looked over at us, smiled and said "you just wait. Enjoy it while you can".
Playing witness to this hilarious epsiode brightened our otherwise selfish and childless weekend. But as we walked back home it suddenly dawned on me that when you have children EVERY MEAL, EVERY DAY would be like that. And it then seemed much less entertaining.
I'm not sure that motherhood is beckoning quite yet.
Sunday 8 August 2010
Tasty London
Recently everyone I know has obtained a tastecard (previously Taste London card). It is a card that gives you a 50% discount or 2 4 1 on main meals at a variety of restaurants across London.
I was then emailed a link that meant the card was only £30 instead of the usual £70. So the boyfriend and I decided to invest in one.
We recieved a bible-like catalogue of every restaurant that offers a deal. A lot of them are places that generally have a deal already (Gourmet Burger Kitchen, Strada) but there are also some real gems.
Now, the Boyfriend and I do eat out quite regularly, and don't really need another reason to do it more often. But now that we can potentially save 50%.....
Last week we tested it for the first time. We went to The Loft in Clapham with a couple of friends. The Loft does wonderful cocktails (mojito with pear juice - YUM, as was an elderflower concoction) which were also on offer, and the food did not disappoint.
Two of us had seabass with garlic spinach and asparagus and a sun-dried tomato paste. It was delicious. And I don't even like spinach. The Boyfriend had sausage and mash (you cannot go wrong with that) and James had pork belly (you could have it thin and crispy or thick and juicy... thick and juicy was gooooood).
The only complaint was that some of the food was not PIPING hot, but it was all very tasty and mixed very well with the cocktails. And the best part was getting the bill - it worked out as about £10 a head. What a bargain.
I was then emailed a link that meant the card was only £30 instead of the usual £70. So the boyfriend and I decided to invest in one.
We recieved a bible-like catalogue of every restaurant that offers a deal. A lot of them are places that generally have a deal already (Gourmet Burger Kitchen, Strada) but there are also some real gems.
Now, the Boyfriend and I do eat out quite regularly, and don't really need another reason to do it more often. But now that we can potentially save 50%.....
Last week we tested it for the first time. We went to The Loft in Clapham with a couple of friends. The Loft does wonderful cocktails (mojito with pear juice - YUM, as was an elderflower concoction) which were also on offer, and the food did not disappoint.
Two of us had seabass with garlic spinach and asparagus and a sun-dried tomato paste. It was delicious. And I don't even like spinach. The Boyfriend had sausage and mash (you cannot go wrong with that) and James had pork belly (you could have it thin and crispy or thick and juicy... thick and juicy was gooooood).
The only complaint was that some of the food was not PIPING hot, but it was all very tasty and mixed very well with the cocktails. And the best part was getting the bill - it worked out as about £10 a head. What a bargain.
Thursday 5 August 2010
Home sweet home
So the Boyfriend and I are looking for a flat. I have a horrible sense that it is going to be a painful process.
We want somewhere with an outside, and two bedrooms, in an area we like (Battersea, Clapham, Brixton, Stockwell) and within our budget.
The Boyfriend had some other stipulations, but they have been disregarded as silly - a big kitchen (the last time he cooked was 3years ago and he caused a minor fire) and a bathroom with windows. Yes I know, of all the things to disregard an otherwise perfect house, I do not want to have to aplogetically decline over a lack of window.....)
So far I have had a lot of help from some very attentive estate agents. The only problem is that they all seem to have an IQ rivalled by a peanut.
Over the past 3 days I have received over 15phonecalls and emails.
They all start along the same line:
"We have found you a perfect property"
Great.
Then the problems start. I have been offered places in Streatham (no), Kent (no) and Acton (no) among others. I have been offered studios, 1 bedroom places, and places with not even a sniff of outside space. I have also been offered beautiful flats, in brilliant locations, that are 6 times our budget. Fantastic.
At first my responses were pleasant - it's easy to get confused, maybe they mixed us up with someone else, everything's right except the location and the price, etc. But after correcting the same man from the same estate agent for the third time I have come to realise that all estate agents are either
a. Lonely, and desperate for ANY contact, even from an angry blonde.
b. Stupid.
c. Related in someway to the goldfish, and therefore unable to retain information for more than 3 seconds.
I shall keep you informed of any developments.
We want somewhere with an outside, and two bedrooms, in an area we like (Battersea, Clapham, Brixton, Stockwell) and within our budget.
The Boyfriend had some other stipulations, but they have been disregarded as silly - a big kitchen (the last time he cooked was 3years ago and he caused a minor fire) and a bathroom with windows. Yes I know, of all the things to disregard an otherwise perfect house, I do not want to have to aplogetically decline over a lack of window.....)
So far I have had a lot of help from some very attentive estate agents. The only problem is that they all seem to have an IQ rivalled by a peanut.
Over the past 3 days I have received over 15phonecalls and emails.
They all start along the same line:
"We have found you a perfect property"
Great.
Then the problems start. I have been offered places in Streatham (no), Kent (no) and Acton (no) among others. I have been offered studios, 1 bedroom places, and places with not even a sniff of outside space. I have also been offered beautiful flats, in brilliant locations, that are 6 times our budget. Fantastic.
At first my responses were pleasant - it's easy to get confused, maybe they mixed us up with someone else, everything's right except the location and the price, etc. But after correcting the same man from the same estate agent for the third time I have come to realise that all estate agents are either
a. Lonely, and desperate for ANY contact, even from an angry blonde.
b. Stupid.
c. Related in someway to the goldfish, and therefore unable to retain information for more than 3 seconds.
I shall keep you informed of any developments.
Legally blonde
I have renamed my blog. It had to be done. I was having a think about what defines me the most and there were 3 things:
My shoes (even though I abandoned them in favour of Uggs last winter....)
London (even though I did abndon it for a weekend of camping...)
And being a blonde. Which I don't think I will ever abandon. Even when blonde betrayed me by turning green in an overchlorainated pool, even when in a moment of madness I dyed it Brown, I never ever stopped being a blonde at heart, be it platinum, bleach, honey or highlighted.
My shoes (even though I abandoned them in favour of Uggs last winter....)
London (even though I did abndon it for a weekend of camping...)
And being a blonde. Which I don't think I will ever abandon. Even when blonde betrayed me by turning green in an overchlorainated pool, even when in a moment of madness I dyed it Brown, I never ever stopped being a blonde at heart, be it platinum, bleach, honey or highlighted.
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