Gorgonzola The Great

A wedge of this wonderful cheese, in all its stinky finery became my third 'cheese of the week'.

It came to me from Piedmont, Italy, via a man with many gestures at the Borough Market -London's finest and oldest food market. It has been at its present location for over 250 years. My new cheese did smell as if it had been there for a fair few too, but that old shoe stink never put me off a good cheese experience.

As the kind man of many gestures carved me my wedge off the massive, gooey round on his table, I asked him how I should eat my new Italian friend. He suggested with fruit, or just by itself.

And so I wandered over to a neighbouring stall, purchased some quince paste (not as good as my mum's, but you can't have everything) and some oat biscuits.

Another wonderful 'cheese of the week' experience.

Wednesday Night Football

Number 8 on the list of things to do before you die is......

A football game in the UK

What better thing to do on a slightly showery Wednesday night than to go and see some of the world's greatest footballers play at the best stadium in London with 60,020 other people. All of them in a good mood.

Brazil took on Sweden in front of thousands of vocal Brazilians, and a lot of quiet Swedes. Oh, and three slightly awe-struck New Zealanders.

The atmosphere was fantastic, and because it was a friendly held on neutral territory, we also missed the usual street brawls and stabbings.

Brazil won 1-0 for anyone who cares.

Mozzarella Madness

My second 'Cheese of the Week' was a big blob of mozzarella, direct from Italy.

I lay slices of it on a slightly warmed piece of ciabatta, with vine-riped tomatoes, basil care of Ivan Smith in West Sussex, and a generous slosh of aged balsamic vinegar.

Outstanding.

Ladies & Gentlemen! Introducing to you all..... 'Cheese of The Week'

After many minutes of wandering vacantly about Sainsbury's last Sunday I realised something. I need to make the most of the wonderful things this great country has to offer before it is too late.

My time here, unfortunately, will be far too short. And whilst my next destination will have many splendid attributes; there are many things it will lack. One of those is good cheese.

Therefore I have decided to introduce a whole lot more of this fine dairy product into my life. And so I introduce to you 'Cheese of The Week'.

This week's cheese is haloumi, in all its salty, squeaky glory. Straight from Cyprus.

Last night I cut it thick, placed it on pita bread and grilled it. I then lovingly smothered it with houmus. Symphonic.

Born of the National Disaster Isle

Apparently the earth moves over here too. There was rather a large earthquake up north last week, scaring the life out of a fair few people who didn't grow up with classroom earthquake drills like New Zealand children.

I managed to shock my colleagues the other day by telling them my mother has the crockery on her sideboard stuck in place with 'earthquake glue'. It then totally blew their minds when I told them the sideboard was actually fixed to the wall to stop it falling on your head as you run to the doorway during the shaking.


This led me onto a 'thought tangent'. This is where I sit at my desk and stare at a 45 degree angle, head tilted vaguely towards the ceiling. Everything around me blends into an office haze, voices quieten to a low burble, and my thoughts wander off on a mental soliloquy of sorts. Happens quite a bit when the most exciting part of your job is trying to identify mystery items as they bob their way down the Thames.

It is quite a natural disaster country I am from. And it always seemed quite normal. Volcanic eruptions that spoil ski seasons, rivers that are 40 degrees, the occasional geyser erupting in someone's backyard, the phenomenon of 'earthquake weather'; even the odd cyclone and tornado thrown in there for good measure....

They certainly do live a sheltered life over here in Old Blighty. Just man-made disasters like terrorism and London Underground to keep life interesting.

Emma The Builder

I have always suffered from inconstructionitis. This is commonly known as: the inability to construct items from written instructions.

So when I bought a desk online this week, I was very, very concerned to discover it was not going to get carried into my flat by two men who would carefully put it down, put my laptop on it and say 'voila'. Nooooo. My new desk was slid into my room inside of a cardboard box. A very thin 'undesk looking' cardboard box.

And so it was that I found myself, on a Saturday night, screwdriver in hand, determined to overcome my building disorder.

After an hour or so of my tongue sticking out the side of my mouth, and repeating 'screw two S4 bolts into panel B' to myself - I was done.

To say I was proud of myself is quite the understatement.

(Note the two shelves, including one that slides in and out.)

Two hours later and it still hasn't fallen over.

Raising her Weary Head

Spring is peeking sleepily over the horizon. Slightly stunned, she blinks into the post-winter light.

The first sign of this was the daffidols showing their eternally happy faces outside Clapham Common tube station.

Then bunches of asparagus began to appear at Sainsbury's.

Finally, when I skipped out of work yesterday at 5.40pm. it was dusk. Not night time.

All of a sudden it was obvious.

As I write this, spring is picking sleep from her eyes, and smoothing down her 'bed hair'.

#7

Do what every good Londoner does once in a while - take to the country for the day. Constantly remark on how 'quaint' everything is as you savour the fresh air, lack of Starbucks and regain your sense of personal space.

Support the National Trust and walk the paths walked by kings.

My Talented Mum

Look at how amazing my mum is.

She crafted this dress especially for my friend's gorgeous little girl Madeleine.

The smocking is beautiful and she did it all by hand.

The craftiest thing I have done of late is to paint my nails. And even that I made a mess of.

I worry a lot about our generation. Maybe I should take up a craft. Then I would have less time to worry about the dramatic loss of traditions, culture and history we face with every passing day.....

The Northern Line's Incredible Friday Phenomenon

I just witnessed an incredible phenomenon. So amazing in fact, I just had to write about it straight away.

My entire carriage this morning, was made up of ridiculously good-looking men. 'Why?' I hear you ask. I have no answer for you. Perhaps they were all on their way to a Calvin Klein casting.

There I stood, surrounded, sardine-like. Immediately I started thinking about what the collective noun for group of good looking men might be. (a 'smooth' of men, 'a scarf' of men, a 'lust' of men......) So there I was, surrounded by a lust of men all minding their own business while I stood aghast. Even more amazing, was that they just kept getting on. Until there was simply no more room.

As I (sadly) alighted the tube, I actually managed to hook one of these beautiful specimens. With the cord of my Ipod headphones. Unfortunately I had to throw him back before the closing doors got me.

You can bet I will be taking the 8.05:34 Northern Line tube via Bank from Stockwell next week too.