Aussie guy: It's a 2-bed flat with a garden in Wandsworth so really nice, but back home we could have got a 4 or 5-bedroom house with a pool for the same money.
British girl: You can't think that way though.
Aussie guy: No.
From the archives #5
Earlier today, I started thinking about whether a decade could be summed up by one song. I've no idea why this strange thought popped into my head, but I thought I'd try to come up with a list anyway. A list that would sum up my life. Make of it what you will.
1970s - Get it On, by T-Rex - When I was a small child, I owned a spectacularly cheesy piece of vinyl entitled Stewpot's Pop Party. It was designed for parents to chuck on the record player in lieu of actually being organised for their kid's birthday party. Thankfully my mother was the organised type and so the entirety of this LP was never really needed, but it did perform one useful function by introducing me to the wonders of T-Rex.
1980s - West End Girls, by the Pet Shop Boys - This song was the first one I recall being obsessed with. It was so different to everything I'd been listening to up until then and began a decade-long love of the band who created it. The first gig I went to was a Pet Shop Boys extravaganza in 1991, and they gave this old favourite a new twist which made me fall in love with the song all over again.
1990s - In Your Room, by Depeche Mode - I was introduced to DM by Julie, a friend in my sixth form art class. I gradually amassed a back catalogue and then awaited the new album with bated breath. When it arrived, Songs of Faith and Devotion marked a turning point in my life. A point where my love of pop started to change and morph into a love of rock. This song formed the basis of an installation I created during my art foundation course, helped me through many break-ups, and is one of the the few tracks I love every single remix of (and they did a fair few).
2000s - Hysteria, by Muse - I know the decade isn't over yet, so it's probably too soon to call this one, but I reckon this will be the track that always reminds me of the 'noughties'. Absolution was the album that first woke me up to the awesome power of Muse, and this song was my favourite off it for a long while. Perfect driving music (if you don't mind dicing with death and speed cameras), and so amazing live that it can make me squeal. And squeal I did when Topper, Chris and Julian launched into it at my 30th birthday party. A moment etched forever in my mind, alongside the band themselves playing it at the new Wembley Stadium.
(Originally posted on 25th June 2007.)
1970s - Get it On, by T-Rex - When I was a small child, I owned a spectacularly cheesy piece of vinyl entitled Stewpot's Pop Party. It was designed for parents to chuck on the record player in lieu of actually being organised for their kid's birthday party. Thankfully my mother was the organised type and so the entirety of this LP was never really needed, but it did perform one useful function by introducing me to the wonders of T-Rex.
1980s - West End Girls, by the Pet Shop Boys - This song was the first one I recall being obsessed with. It was so different to everything I'd been listening to up until then and began a decade-long love of the band who created it. The first gig I went to was a Pet Shop Boys extravaganza in 1991, and they gave this old favourite a new twist which made me fall in love with the song all over again.
1990s - In Your Room, by Depeche Mode - I was introduced to DM by Julie, a friend in my sixth form art class. I gradually amassed a back catalogue and then awaited the new album with bated breath. When it arrived, Songs of Faith and Devotion marked a turning point in my life. A point where my love of pop started to change and morph into a love of rock. This song formed the basis of an installation I created during my art foundation course, helped me through many break-ups, and is one of the the few tracks I love every single remix of (and they did a fair few).
2000s - Hysteria, by Muse - I know the decade isn't over yet, so it's probably too soon to call this one, but I reckon this will be the track that always reminds me of the 'noughties'. Absolution was the album that first woke me up to the awesome power of Muse, and this song was my favourite off it for a long while. Perfect driving music (if you don't mind dicing with death and speed cameras), and so amazing live that it can make me squeal. And squeal I did when Topper, Chris and Julian launched into it at my 30th birthday party. A moment etched forever in my mind, alongside the band themselves playing it at the new Wembley Stadium.
(Originally posted on 25th June 2007.)
My mobile life
I can't remember exactly when I first decided to buy a mobile phone, but it was probably some time in 1999. I bought a two year package from John Lewis (yes, really) that included an Ericsson T18 with line rental and inclusive calls/SMS messaging from one2one, but no contract. All the line rental paid for up front and the freedom to change networks at the end. It must have been a good deal for the consumer as they had stopped doing these packages by the time I decided that the Ericsson, with it's "my first phone" looks and silly blinky light, needed to be replaced. However, by this point I had also realised why one2one was sometimes referred to as one2none, so I switched to Orange pay as you go and got a nice 'n' cheap Nokia 3210 with a new number. In 2002, work gave me a Nokia 6210 for no apparent reason, as I didn't need a mobile phone to do the job, but I accepted and used my own SIM as it was a far better phone than the 3210. Time passed... phones got better. What I wanted now was one with a camera.
For Christmas 2004, Topper gave me a Nokia 3220, and a few months later I managed to lay my hands on the attachment that allowed me to write messages in the air. That was the only reason I wanted the phone - not for the disco lights that flashed when it rang. Honestly, I was too enthralled by the idea of 'wave messaging' that I hadn't even noticed that it came with other flashy lights. Other people noticed though and I soon found out how to switch them off, unlike all the other people who had the same phone as me (who were probably all under the age of 15). Much as I liked the idea of lights and cameras, I still really only used my phone for sending text messages and so remained on a pay as you go tariff. More new phones were released all the time but were too expensive unless you took out a contract and I couldn't justify all that line rental when I hardly ever made a call. However, 2006 marked a mobile turning point for me. I was sucked in by the advertising for the Nokia 7370 and, as it was not available on pay as you go, finally took out a contract. Orange provided a cheap one with a bunch of inclusive texts so all was good... apart from the phone itself, as it happens.
18 months ago I ended that contract and defected to T-Mobile, who offered me a nice cheap Flext contract with a shiny Sony Ericsson K810i - a *vast* imporvement on my previous phone. Until that point, I'd not been too bothered about having a camera on my phone, but the awesome macro setting on this little beauty meant that I took rather more of an interest. Most of these images were bluetoothed (if there is such a word) to my macbook before finding their way to the internet... but then came Twitter. With my frequent use of Twitpic, I figured I needed a phone that I could easily tweet photos from. With my new-found love of whiling away the commute using mobile interwebs, I needed a phone I could browse easily from. And, with my total laziness, I figured that a phone offered by T-Mobile would make things a lot easier. In 2009 it's all about the G1 baby!
For Christmas 2004, Topper gave me a Nokia 3220, and a few months later I managed to lay my hands on the attachment that allowed me to write messages in the air. That was the only reason I wanted the phone - not for the disco lights that flashed when it rang. Honestly, I was too enthralled by the idea of 'wave messaging' that I hadn't even noticed that it came with other flashy lights. Other people noticed though and I soon found out how to switch them off, unlike all the other people who had the same phone as me (who were probably all under the age of 15). Much as I liked the idea of lights and cameras, I still really only used my phone for sending text messages and so remained on a pay as you go tariff. More new phones were released all the time but were too expensive unless you took out a contract and I couldn't justify all that line rental when I hardly ever made a call. However, 2006 marked a mobile turning point for me. I was sucked in by the advertising for the Nokia 7370 and, as it was not available on pay as you go, finally took out a contract. Orange provided a cheap one with a bunch of inclusive texts so all was good... apart from the phone itself, as it happens.
18 months ago I ended that contract and defected to T-Mobile, who offered me a nice cheap Flext contract with a shiny Sony Ericsson K810i - a *vast* imporvement on my previous phone. Until that point, I'd not been too bothered about having a camera on my phone, but the awesome macro setting on this little beauty meant that I took rather more of an interest. Most of these images were bluetoothed (if there is such a word) to my macbook before finding their way to the internet... but then came Twitter. With my frequent use of Twitpic, I figured I needed a phone that I could easily tweet photos from. With my new-found love of whiling away the commute using mobile interwebs, I needed a phone I could browse easily from. And, with my total laziness, I figured that a phone offered by T-Mobile would make things a lot easier. In 2009 it's all about the G1 baby!
Departure
The following is from an email sent by a colleague on 25th January 2000 regarding his feelings about my imminent move to Manchester. I printed a copy to keep and, every time I clear out my filing cabinet, it makes me smile all over again. Thought I'd share the best bits...
"It was with a deep sense of sorrow that I received the news of your departure. Indeed, I can honestly say that I see this as being on a level with the loss of my dear Nova, and you will know that such a comparison cannot lightly be made. As I type, the keyboard is again drenched in my tears, I do hope that it will not be dama&%d.
"Being also a displaced person myself, I can appreciate the call of the North to the heart. It draws, like a wolf howling in the night, like a mother's evening call to her dear children 'come home, it's supper time', like the sound of a greasy cafe opening for business at 6am, the rush of the river as it tumbles down the rocks. Oh yes, it draws and no heart can resist except it be tied to this place of tragedy with strong, strong chains.
"I know the feeling, waking up to the mist and the rain and the fog, the bus late and not even thirty shillings in the pocket for a Big Breakfast at Macs. But you think... at least I'm here, I belong, I don't need to justify it. Yes, you can get pleasure from just opening your eyes and being there... rather than dreaming it, wishing it, pretending...
"I won't go on, I am already unfit now for work, my heart burdened and heavy. At least I have a trip to look forward to on Friday, once again the train will take me through Peterborough, Grantham, Newark, Retford, Doncaster, to Leeds... there I will breathe the Northern air, smell, feel, touch my beloved homeland."
I have yet to work with another person quite as interesting as Maurice.
"It was with a deep sense of sorrow that I received the news of your departure. Indeed, I can honestly say that I see this as being on a level with the loss of my dear Nova, and you will know that such a comparison cannot lightly be made. As I type, the keyboard is again drenched in my tears, I do hope that it will not be dama&%d.
"Being also a displaced person myself, I can appreciate the call of the North to the heart. It draws, like a wolf howling in the night, like a mother's evening call to her dear children 'come home, it's supper time', like the sound of a greasy cafe opening for business at 6am, the rush of the river as it tumbles down the rocks. Oh yes, it draws and no heart can resist except it be tied to this place of tragedy with strong, strong chains.
"I know the feeling, waking up to the mist and the rain and the fog, the bus late and not even thirty shillings in the pocket for a Big Breakfast at Macs. But you think... at least I'm here, I belong, I don't need to justify it. Yes, you can get pleasure from just opening your eyes and being there... rather than dreaming it, wishing it, pretending...
"I won't go on, I am already unfit now for work, my heart burdened and heavy. At least I have a trip to look forward to on Friday, once again the train will take me through Peterborough, Grantham, Newark, Retford, Doncaster, to Leeds... there I will breathe the Northern air, smell, feel, touch my beloved homeland."
I have yet to work with another person quite as interesting as Maurice.
Lost in translation
When I returned to the North West of England after following up my three years at a Manchester university with two and a half years back with the parental units in Buckinghamshire, I got a job in Bolton. This is where my education really began. There are many words and phrases that I learnt during my long stay in Manchester, but my time in Bolton was perhaps the most informative. I'd like to take this opportunity to share a few linguistic gems with you in case they may prove useful on your travels.
Pants - As with our friends across the pond, pants round here are simply trousers. I suspect what I know as pants are renamed undercrackers, but I'd have to double-check that one.
Wagon - Want to get a big bunch of stuff from A to B? You don't need a lorry, you need a wagon. Trust me.
Brew - Fancy a cuppa? Tea? Coffee? Nope. We brew up round here. Get it right.
While - Until does not exist; it's while. My hours of work are nine while five. You get the idea.
Sweet - This is an odd one. In the south, everyone calls everyone else mate. Even if you don't know them. In Bolton, everyone calls everyone else sweet. Even bloke to bloke (well, the older guys I worked with seemed to). Bizarre.
Mither - Pronounced m-eye-ther, it means bother or annoy (i.e. Stop mithering me).
Pants - As with our friends across the pond, pants round here are simply trousers. I suspect what I know as pants are renamed undercrackers, but I'd have to double-check that one.
Wagon - Want to get a big bunch of stuff from A to B? You don't need a lorry, you need a wagon. Trust me.
Brew - Fancy a cuppa? Tea? Coffee? Nope. We brew up round here. Get it right.
While - Until does not exist; it's while. My hours of work are nine while five. You get the idea.
Sweet - This is an odd one. In the south, everyone calls everyone else mate. Even if you don't know them. In Bolton, everyone calls everyone else sweet. Even bloke to bloke (well, the older guys I worked with seemed to). Bizarre.
Mither - Pronounced m-eye-ther, it means bother or annoy (i.e. Stop mithering me).
From the archives #4
Now I remember why I don't drink - posted 1st February 2004.
Most of the time, I choose to drive rather than drink. This choice stems from a time when I was the only one of my friends who could drive so I would collect them, take us all to the pub and drop them off at the end of the night, making a bit of petrol money and an entire evening's worth of free soft drinks into the bargain. As the years went on, the idea of hanging around in the cold at the end of an evening for a taxi whilst sobering up just enough to make the wait appear that much worse, seemed like a bad plan compared with taking my lovely warm car complete with own choice of music. Also, the cost of alcoholic drinks plus taxis compared to soft drinks plus parking (if I can't find somewhere for free), made sure that I became used to having a good time without drinking. Sometimes, however, I reckon it might be worth not driving. Most of those times, including last night, I am wrong.
We got to the bus stop to find out that the next one going in the right direction was thirty minutes away, so began walking towards Chris's place instead. I'm very unfit and so a plan to walk all the way there was quickly shelved in favour of a bus that smelt like sweaty changing rooms, and we only arrived ridiculously late rather than stupidly so. Turns out that this was a proper cocktail party full of well-dressed people, so I decided that plenty of alcohol was needed to calm the nerves brought on by totally underestimating the phrase 'smart casual' and only knowing three people out of (what seemed like) the hundreds that were there.
I don't remember much of what happened next. I do remember listening to Pink Floyd and sipping excellent whisky at about 2am whilst some of the group tried to show the rest of us how to tie a Full Windsor knot. I also remember walking half of the way home in the pouring rain, giggling like a fool because Topper was jumping triumphantly into giant puddles on the roadside, much like a small child would do if given half the chance. Today has been spent nursing a small but steady headache while trying to dry Topper's water-logged shoes out in front of the fire. He's still in bed.
Next time, I'm driving. Maybe.
Most of the time, I choose to drive rather than drink. This choice stems from a time when I was the only one of my friends who could drive so I would collect them, take us all to the pub and drop them off at the end of the night, making a bit of petrol money and an entire evening's worth of free soft drinks into the bargain. As the years went on, the idea of hanging around in the cold at the end of an evening for a taxi whilst sobering up just enough to make the wait appear that much worse, seemed like a bad plan compared with taking my lovely warm car complete with own choice of music. Also, the cost of alcoholic drinks plus taxis compared to soft drinks plus parking (if I can't find somewhere for free), made sure that I became used to having a good time without drinking. Sometimes, however, I reckon it might be worth not driving. Most of those times, including last night, I am wrong.
We got to the bus stop to find out that the next one going in the right direction was thirty minutes away, so began walking towards Chris's place instead. I'm very unfit and so a plan to walk all the way there was quickly shelved in favour of a bus that smelt like sweaty changing rooms, and we only arrived ridiculously late rather than stupidly so. Turns out that this was a proper cocktail party full of well-dressed people, so I decided that plenty of alcohol was needed to calm the nerves brought on by totally underestimating the phrase 'smart casual' and only knowing three people out of (what seemed like) the hundreds that were there.
I don't remember much of what happened next. I do remember listening to Pink Floyd and sipping excellent whisky at about 2am whilst some of the group tried to show the rest of us how to tie a Full Windsor knot. I also remember walking half of the way home in the pouring rain, giggling like a fool because Topper was jumping triumphantly into giant puddles on the roadside, much like a small child would do if given half the chance. Today has been spent nursing a small but steady headache while trying to dry Topper's water-logged shoes out in front of the fire. He's still in bed.
Next time, I'm driving. Maybe.
Strike one!
The time of my first tube strike is fast approaching. It's not that there haven't been any in my 3 years as a London resident, it's just that there haven't been any in the year where I've been commuting using train and Underground. Still, Charing Cross to Bloomsbury isn't far to walk. I just need to remember to get up a bit earlier tomorrow... or try a bus.
From the archives #3
And so, on to 2004! In January I was thrilled at the start of the new breakfast time Chris Moyles show on Radio One, as it freed me from a Sara Cox induced radio hell. I also asked my readers (yes, I had some back then!) to come up some quotes for me to use on my 'about' page off the back of a review I received. I've no idea which I chose in the end, as that page was binned off years ago, but the end of the post and the best of the subsequent comments on my 11th January 2004 entry looked something like this (with updated links, where I can find them)...
"So, this is where you guys come in. I want some quotes from you about either me or my site, like the sort they put on movie posters. Be bitchy, witty, truthful or creative... anything! Perhaps something along the lines of "Even better than XFM!" - Adrian Sevitz, "Could do with more swearing." - Lyle or "Almost the best blog on my server." - Topper. You get the general idea. The best ones will be used on this site as another dodgy 'about' page for me and some shameless promotion for you."
Lori Smith - the site too lazy to write it's own content so she's getting us to come up with it...
Posted by: Gordon
"Lori Smith - I've been to the pub with her a few times. She's really nice."
Posted by: nayf
"Lori Smith - more entertaining than bamboo skewers under the fingertips"
Posted by: Lyle
"Lori Smith - ten times tastier than a packet of wine gums"
Posted by: jane
Lori Smith, a lot like XFM, but without the music or jokes or adverts. She has buttons though.
Posted by: Adrian
Lori Smith, the blog version of how to make friends and influence people.
Posted by: Adrian
lori-smith - like metafilter, but not really
Posted by: sarah
"lori-smith.co.uk - an even better read than The Sun"
Posted by: zed
Lori Smith, like belle de jour, but for free. And without the sex.
Posted by: Adrian
I have to pay. Mentally, though; not in cash.
Posted by: Topper
Lori Smith - The undraped photos were hard to find.
Posted by: lump
Lori Smith - don't look at the polaroids
Posted by: Chris
Lori Smith - the video is better than the polariods anyway ...
Posted by: Adrian
"So, this is where you guys come in. I want some quotes from you about either me or my site, like the sort they put on movie posters. Be bitchy, witty, truthful or creative... anything! Perhaps something along the lines of "Even better than XFM!" - Adrian Sevitz, "Could do with more swearing." - Lyle or "Almost the best blog on my server." - Topper. You get the general idea. The best ones will be used on this site as another dodgy 'about' page for me and some shameless promotion for you."
Lori Smith - the site too lazy to write it's own content so she's getting us to come up with it...
Posted by: Gordon
"Lori Smith - I've been to the pub with her a few times. She's really nice."
Posted by: nayf
"Lori Smith - more entertaining than bamboo skewers under the fingertips"
Posted by: Lyle
"Lori Smith - ten times tastier than a packet of wine gums"
Posted by: jane
Lori Smith, a lot like XFM, but without the music or jokes or adverts. She has buttons though.
Posted by: Adrian
Lori Smith, the blog version of how to make friends and influence people.
Posted by: Adrian
lori-smith - like metafilter, but not really
Posted by: sarah
"lori-smith.co.uk - an even better read than The Sun"
Posted by: zed
Lori Smith, like belle de jour, but for free. And without the sex.
Posted by: Adrian
I have to pay. Mentally, though; not in cash.
Posted by: Topper
Lori Smith - The undraped photos were hard to find.
Posted by: lump
Lori Smith - don't look at the polaroids
Posted by: Chris
Lori Smith - the video is better than the polariods anyway ...
Posted by: Adrian
From the archives #2
On Saturday 20th September 2003, as I was preparing to attend the first (as far as I know) Manchester lomomeet, I pondered the joys of meeting people you don't know off of the internet... "It was then suggested, by someone who shall remain nameless, that these people may not be as entertaining in person as they are online. Could it be true? Is there a chance that Scaryduck is simply an ordinary boring husband and father to Mrs Scary and the scary ducklings? Could Green Fairy in fact be a dear sweet young woman who would never want to upset anyone by speaking out of term? Surely the razorhead isn't actually a long-haired ugly straight guy with nothing of interest to say? And I'll eat my hat if Lyle actually likes United Utilities. I think it's all lies."
The comments thread then played host to the beginnings of the first (as far as I know) Manchester blogmeet. Turns out Lyle and Sevitz are damn fine company, survived meeting me, and are still blogging. Who'd have thought it?
The comments thread then played host to the beginnings of the first (as far as I know) Manchester blogmeet. Turns out Lyle and Sevitz are damn fine company, survived meeting me, and are still blogging. Who'd have thought it?
From the archives #1
Thought I'd rummage through my Movable Type blog archives, before I bin it all, and dig out any interesting snippets from my past that are worth keeping. Here's a rather important post from 4th May 2003...
"Recently I had to travel to my company's head office to deliver some training and decided to drive rather than take the train. This decision was made mainly because trains suck and my last experience on one was so bad that I arrived 2.5 hours later than planned. I also figured that I could factor in a visit to the parents as well if I went in the car, and I also wouldn't have to spend my journey listening to other people's brats/mobile phone conversations. A happy Lori then became an ecstatic Lori when I found out the going rate for mileage. Of course, the inflated amount is to cover wear-and-tear on your vehicle but, rather than save it for my next service as would be wise, I decided to spend it on a camera. Not just any camera though, a Lomo LC-A, which I've wanted for a while now. I'm quite excited really, even though I have no idea how long it will take to get here. I've always been more of a snapshot gal than a serious photographer so here's a way that even my snapshots can look funky!"
For the shots I've taken since then, check out my Flickr photostream.
"Recently I had to travel to my company's head office to deliver some training and decided to drive rather than take the train. This decision was made mainly because trains suck and my last experience on one was so bad that I arrived 2.5 hours later than planned. I also figured that I could factor in a visit to the parents as well if I went in the car, and I also wouldn't have to spend my journey listening to other people's brats/mobile phone conversations. A happy Lori then became an ecstatic Lori when I found out the going rate for mileage. Of course, the inflated amount is to cover wear-and-tear on your vehicle but, rather than save it for my next service as would be wise, I decided to spend it on a camera. Not just any camera though, a Lomo LC-A, which I've wanted for a while now. I'm quite excited really, even though I have no idea how long it will take to get here. I've always been more of a snapshot gal than a serious photographer so here's a way that even my snapshots can look funky!"
For the shots I've taken since then, check out my Flickr photostream.
A sad day for British politics
This has gone beyond a joke now. If the people who did this will just do the decent thing by owning up now and apologising, then the rest of the country won't have to be punished. Who the hell voted for a guy who thinks that racism is OK, as long as it's not against him?
Nick Griffin: "This is ordinary decent people in Yorkshire kicking back against racism, because racism in this country is now directed overwhelmingly against people who look like me."
I simply must agree with Sir Robert Atkins, who described the BNP as "an aberration" and described Nick Griffin's success as sad day for British politics. (Read more on The Guardian's website, the BBC, the Telegraph, and the Independent.)
Nick Griffin: "This is ordinary decent people in Yorkshire kicking back against racism, because racism in this country is now directed overwhelmingly against people who look like me."
I simply must agree with Sir Robert Atkins, who described the BNP as "an aberration" and described Nick Griffin's success as sad day for British politics. (Read more on The Guardian's website, the BBC, the Telegraph, and the Independent.)
Time for a rethink?
A few years ago, after a yearning for knee-high boots had gone unsatisfied for many seasons, I discovered that well-known high street store Evans sold boots that I could actually zip up. As the style I chose were made from leather, they were not cheap, so I caved in and opened a store card to get a discount. The card has not been used since but it does mean that I am on their mailing list, with many enticing offers popping into my inbox only to be promptly deleted. After all, I may need the store for certain styles of footwear, but I'm not exactly in the market for plus-size clothing.
Or so I thought. Today, for some unknown reason, I opened the email instead of deleting it and discovered, to my horror, that Evans sells sizes 14-32. When did they start selling size 14 and, more importantly, when did it become considered a 'plus' size? To you this may seem unimportant as surely all girls want the joy of being able to select the smallest size off the rail in a shop, but to me this is terrible news. You see, I always told myself that I'd stop eating quite so many biscuits and cakes once I fitted into Evans' clothing. There was no need to cut back on pies while I remained a 12/14, but tipping over to a 16 would be my signal to cut back on fatty foods... however, now it would seem I *can* fit into Evans' trousers and skirts without going up a size at all! It would appear that I now need to revise either my eating habits, as promised, or my criteria for revising my eating habits.
Or so I thought. Today, for some unknown reason, I opened the email instead of deleting it and discovered, to my horror, that Evans sells sizes 14-32. When did they start selling size 14 and, more importantly, when did it become considered a 'plus' size? To you this may seem unimportant as surely all girls want the joy of being able to select the smallest size off the rail in a shop, but to me this is terrible news. You see, I always told myself that I'd stop eating quite so many biscuits and cakes once I fitted into Evans' clothing. There was no need to cut back on pies while I remained a 12/14, but tipping over to a 16 would be my signal to cut back on fatty foods... however, now it would seem I *can* fit into Evans' trousers and skirts without going up a size at all! It would appear that I now need to revise either my eating habits, as promised, or my criteria for revising my eating habits.
Buttercups, ponies and wine
At the weekend, I spent some time with my younger sister who lives in a rather pretty part of Berkshire. On Saturday morning, we headed out with our cameras to a nearby field which contained mostly buttercups and white Shetland ponies. Combined with the lovely blue sky, this was perfect photographic fodder! As we headed home, we spotted that the local wine estate was offering free tastings as part of English Wine Week, so we popped across the road to Stanlake Park to check out their shop. Ended up pottering round the walled garden with our cameras (we especially liked the fancy iron gates that kept us out of the main vineyard!), relaxing with a drink, taking a tour of the winery and then having a full tasting of all their wines. Was a lovely location and rather nice wine too, so we felt like we were on holiday somewhere far more exotic than Twyford! I ended up buying a red and white that had, earlier that day, been selected by the manager of the Hilton in Reading for a banquet of local produce, plus some rather light bubbly and a whitecurrant liqueur - am thinking cocktails with the final two. However, wikipedia says that blackcurrent liqueur and sparkling wine is a Kir Pétillant, but there is no name for one made with whitecurrant liqueur. Any ideas?
