4 July 2010

Right. I'm here. I'm at the kitchen table with a Guiness in my hand taking this opportunity to use Nick's laptop whilst he creates a culinary masterpiece. It's a joy to watch him cook and so I hang around the kitchen pretending to be engrossed in something else kitchen-area-oriented so that I might do it mildly surreptitiously. He probably thinks that I do it for the company. No, no... just for the entertainment. We've decided recently that slapstick is the highest form of wit - sexual innuendo being at the bottom of the spectrum and sacrasm being somewhere in the middle in consideration of the fact that it is verging on irony, although not literary irony (pseuds) - and his kitchen antics are just the trick if you want a bit of humour. He also has an innate talent when it comes to flavours and experimental designs so the outcome of his kitchen antics are just the trick too. He makes lasagne for tomorrow. He'll make pork loin afterwards for our dinner tonight. We haven't done this in an age. Probably on account of pig welfare and my odd extremism when it comes to animal products.

Of course, a lot has happened since my last post. I can't recall it all. I've missed this though... me rambling, you skimming through... I'll start by letting you know that tomorrow I have a date at the Apple store and I will be purchasing my new laptop. So, there will be a lot more from me on this site very soon. I bemoan the laptop catastrophe so that I think everyone is sick of hearing about it, but it has been rather dire lately, not having a work space. I have little incentive to be at home.

I'm eating gorgonzola with olives and cheese biscuits (not unlike crackers).

I'll work backwards...

Yesterday, Raj and I went to Hop Farm festival. What an experience! It was the first and also probably the last time that I'll see Bob Dylan live. You might mosey on over to my facebook page to see a little of the experience. If you look up, you'll see the brilliant blue sky, turning azure and slowly becoming pocked with stars. If you look down you'll see my feet covered in magic brown festival dust. If you look directly ahead, you'll see a group of stoned boys. Oddly enough, that was the theme of the first song - I know that you know the one. But if you look at some sort of 45 degree perspective you'll see some dots on the stage, one of which is Bob. He's just wonderful. Although, his voice is more akin to Tom Waits these days.

Bob was the draw card and so we were happy just to spend the rest of the day in the sun which is a nice way to enjoy a festival. It's the same way that I enjoy all my travel. One might miss things but one can't push one's self. How do you travel? I like to have low expectations and take things slowly. I missed a number of good acts at Rockness for example, but what can you do? If they all play at the same time, it's a matter of taking the good with the bad.

I'm listening to Muddy Waters now.

Another highlight of Hop Farm was Ray Davies. He sang, Dedicated Follower of Fashion, Lola and You Really Got Me. And I sang along too. And at the top of my voice, much to the dismay of the people around me. And I sang with insouciant abandon like it did when I sang to my Kinks cassette tape in my car when I was a teenager. Chloe made it for us to listen to as we drove to the Mezze Bar or on our road trips. And standing there in the middle of that field in Kent, listening to Ray, all the memories flooded back.

I also enjoyed Devendra Banhart but by that point I was sleepy and some girl next to me was using up too much dancing space and was wearing an Indian Chieftan-type feathered headpiece get-up and the feathers kept poking me. Not only had it been a long day, but also I was running on three hours sleep because of the charming night that I had the night before.

And what happened the night before... Nicola and I went to the midnight show of A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Globe. I'd managed to get some seated tickets a couple of months ago and I'm so pleased because it was the best performance that I've seen of it so far. What a great company.

Oh, I could go on but...

I'll move on instead. I went to see Joanna Lumley in La Bete. It was very funny and clever - in the same vain as Chaucer, I'd suggest. Also funny was the manner in which we got to the theatre with less than a minute to spare. It was too fraught! Well, the weather this week has been a fright, hasn't it? I've been sitting in my office in a terrible fog every afternoon as the ardent sunshine beats upon my back and the temperature rises. The fan is futile. The window might as well be stopped up. The degree is touching thirty and my brain just packs up into a vegetable jam... a brain chutney, perhaps.

So, that is the nature of the weather.

Now, I'm on Carnaby Street perusing shoes and I suddenly realise that the time has flown and I should be at Leicester Square station meeting Nicola. Goodness, the show starts in twenty minutes! The walk from Carnaby Street is longer than that, even if I swap my stilettos for my jandals and by the time I get there I won't merely have a healthy glow, I'll be a sweaty, heaving beast of a girl. What is there to do by hop into a bicycle rickshaw?

There are probably other options flying through your mind. Taxi, might be one. Oh, don't be so unadventurous. I found a bicycle man, who incidentally was clad in bright orange shorts, and told him to ride like the wind. We careered down to Leicester Square and Nicola jumped on before we flew over the cobbled stones and screeched to a halt outside The Panton. I'm exaggerating the speed of course. These rickshaws are particularly slow and uncomfortable. Not to mention the humiliation one might feel as they lurch along the streets.

Ah, what a delight to be bereft of shame in the face of the poloi...

One day I might be blessed with children and then just imagine how they'll feel when we're out in public and I'm ranting about the ill-treatment of chickens whilst we're in the supermarket or perhaps I'm falling over on the high street. Surely these habits get worse with age? If I'm right about that, and these habits do develop further, I doubt that anyone will find me endearing enough to hop on the children band wagon with me.

And at the last sentence, I intend no pun, as that is the lowest form of wit.

La Bete. One of the mains was that man who plays Niles on Frasier. Just now, whilst checking the spelling of "Niles" on wikipedia, I found that Frasier was a spin-off of Cheers. And you're probably all saying, yes, of course, we all know that... well, I'm of a different generation. One that didn't really watch Cheers, but would sing the theme song because it was kitsch. In fact, I was a little late for the Seinfeld craze. I remain unapologetic for the things I don't know and unabashed in the face of your shock and your ridicule.

Have you read The Unbearable Lightness of Being? It was a great discussion on the use of the word kitsch and its origin. I haven't used it correctly. You might consult Kundera.

Now, I'll tell you about the work drinks that might have ended in tears if I didn't end them with a laugh, a small shake of the head and a sigh.

We went to Camino to celebrate Jonathan's leaving the Council. He's in my client department and also worked with me back in Auckland. And how did we celebrate? It happened to be the Spanish game that night. The Spanish played well, I hear. I couldn't see the screen. Actually, to stay on the soccer for a bit, oh, the silly histrionics of it all. I much prefer watching Germany for a nice clean technically proficient game. Germany are brilliant, aren't they? I'd like to see them in the final. Although, they've already had that Eurovision win.

Does the comparison irk you? I hope so.

Back at Camino, we, a little worse for wear, and wearing Spanish flags painted on our faces care of some boozy Spaniard in the crowd, decided to move to the next pub. Oh dire decision! Once there, I managed to knock my bosses glass of red wine all over one of my client's laps. For shame.

He was too nice about it really.

I went back to Camino on Tuesday with Michelle. They do very nice tapas. Then, goodness me, I found myself eating more tapas on Thursday with Jade at another lovely place in Barnsbury. And now, I feel like one of those awful girls who knows all about tapa joints and eats out all the time and has clients... what an awful world. Seeing it written here in black and white makes me rather sore. World weary even? Perhaps a little nauseated? Although that might be all the gorgonzola and guiness.

Did you ever read that Ogden Nash poem about the Gorgons? And the gorgonzola? Well, you can already tell that it's a hit. You'll have to look into it yourself if I've piqued your interest. And that poem goes on to say that she is the "Big Cheese."

I've eaten too much cheese of late. I think it's time for another fruit diet.

Yes... another whim... I think that's what's in order...