If Wishes Were Horses

Today’s post is dedicated to the memory of my dearest friend, Bunmi Wilkey. So, I have the flu–again. But hang on, I hear you say. Didn’t you already catch the flu virus at Christmas? Shouldn’t you therefore be immune? You’da thunk, right? The worst part has been having to work through it. Dealing with people whilst breaking out in a feverish cold sweat is not a good look. Let’s draw a veil over this hideous episode. But not before I share my latest composition à la Ogden Nash with you:

Pyrexia,

Wrecks ya.

I blame the salmon. Apparently, all our salmon is toxic! Eek!! It’s all pumped full of emamectin benzoate which sounds thoroughly delicious. Mmmm, that puts the slam in salmon. I would have taken this more seriously if the spokesman from GAAIA (me neither) had managed to refrain from hyperbole. “All salmon is farmed and dangerous.” He’s obviously not getting enough emamectin benzoate 🙂 I’m not scared of emamectin benzoate. In any battle between emamectin and the viruses currently coursing through my system, my money’s on the viruses, the evil little suckers. In the same spirit of hysteria, the paper informed us that there is a ‘fuel price-war’. Yup, Asda is taking 2p off the price of a litre of diesel. So, only £75.80 to fill up a Mini now, rather than £76. Spend that 20p wisely, y’all. You could use it to take all your friends and family to the utterly fabulous THIRDHOME resort in Cabo San Lucas as pictured above. On the gastronomic front, there is some good news. Scientists have apparently been able to ward off post-partum blues by feeding new mothers spinach, blueberries and chocolate. Three of my favourite foods! (Not necessarily together). I have taken the executive decision to omit the totally unnecessary painful childbirth bit, and proceed directly to the eating foods I like bit. AlaraApothecary: Lifestyle advice without 36 hours of labour.

I’ve included some of the dreamy stuff I’ve been looking at lately in this post. If I lived in that Parisian apartment, I’d never leave home. I’d just spend all my time stroking the walls and the furniture. Kinda explains why God has not gifted me that apartment, double drat. However, in my lovely dwelling which I am very lucky to have, I made an excellent Lemon & Pepper Roast Chicken yesterday. Pure ambrosia, no kidding. The secret is to marinade, marinade, marinade. To start any kitchen newbies off on your baby steps, why don’t you try the Charentais Melon Salad courtesy of the geniuses at The Cook’s Atelier:

Charentais Melon Salad with San Daniele and Garden Basil
Serves 63 ripe melons
6 thin slices prosciutto di San Daniele
18 very pretty basil leaves
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepperFor the vinaigrette
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil.In a small bowl, add the balsamic vinegar and olive oil.  Stir together to form a broken vinaigrette.Cut the melon in half lengthwise, remove the seeds, and slice the melon into 1-inch-thick wedges.  Set aside.Arrange the melon on the salad plate.  Drape a slice of prosciutto over and around them, leaving some of the melon peeking through.  Drizzle with olive oil balsamic vinaigrette.  Scatter the basil leaves on top, and grind a little black pepper over the salad.
It’s guaranteed emamectin-free ………. probably. Have a good one.

 

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

/by

She Started It!

The major theme I’ve noticed this week is human folly. My favourite story is about the British Army’s latest recruitment drive. Following the last six or seven debacles instituted by various British governments in various parts of the world, the general public has politely decided to be included out of joining in the multifarious acts of insanity. The DOD has therefore hit on a new recruitment wheeze- you can join the army and enjoy a 3-day week with a guarantee that you won’t be sent to the frontlines. Pure awesomeness – join the army and don’t see the world. My application has of course been sent post-haste. I have also included a request to work flexi-time from home 🙂  What a great gig: it’s the job I’ve been waiting for all my life! What is that sound? Yes, I do believe it’s the Chinese and the Russians falling about with laughter. We will fight them on the beaches, we will fight them from our sofas, as Winston Churchill famously said. I have paraphrased somewhat.

In other news, Banksy has opened the Walled-Off Hotel in Bethlehem. Offering scenic views of the wall Israel built to keep out the Palestinians, it is very high on my anti-bucket list. This is why I always look forward to Banksy’s work. I think this is even better than Dismaland. The pictures and decor of the hotel says more about the craziness of Middle Eastern politics than any earnest 900-page tome could. When I visited Israel, I couldn’t get over how similar the Arabs and Israelis look which makes sense as they are both Semitic peoples. Mind you, their mutual hatred is a playground spat compared to the Christian community in Israel. The different denominations loathe one another so much that the keys of the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem are in the safekeeping of a Muslim. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic. Emphatically not what Jesus preached, I think we can all agree. I am on holiday soon and hope to stay somewhere like La Reserve (see below), only transplanted to Florence. (It’s my fantasy so I don’t intend to skimp 🙂 ) Sorry, Banksy.

Speaking of people embracing their inner Berserker, I came across a great story about Bette Davis. Having maintained a lifelong feud with Joan Crawford, she still regularly slagged her off to anyone who would listen even after Joan had been dead for ages. Talking to a mutual friend who was attempting to stick up for Joan’s memory a full decade after Joan had died, Bette banged her fists on the table and opined that, “Just because someone is dead, it doesn’t mean that they’ve changed!” Awesome. Now, that’s a woman who knew how to bear a grudge. Don’t let a little thing like death get in the way; you go, girl.

This week has been rich in merriment- I bring you Karl Lagerfeld and Meryl Streep, not to mention the Oscars fiasco. AND, the sun is shining! I leave you with one of my fave jokes:

A man walks into a bar and says “Ouch!”.

Have a terrific, vendetta-free weekend. Pip pip.

 

Save

Save

Save

Save

/by

Too Many Notes

Water, water, everywhere but not a drop to drink. You can’t see the forest for the trees. Where there is no vision, the people perish. Etcetera, Etcetera. In a breath-taking act of what I can only call vandalism, the owners of Leicester FC sacked Claudio Ranieri. Even in the low-expectations world of football, this managed to plumb new depths in human perfidy. Having done the impossible in coaching the players into a Premier League championship last year, he was rewarded by being given the sack because he has not been able to achieve the impossible two years in a row. The plodding packhorses of Leicester, having found themselves in the dream world of the Premier League began to see themselves as the Great I Am, in a league populated by racehorses.

Of course, Ranieri was his own worst enemy. He took straw and spun it into Gold, and he made it look easy. This as we all know will always have the deadly repercussion of making the clueless bosses think that if it looks so easy, anyone can do it. I can just imagine the bruised egos – Claudio, the football genius receiving all the plaudits. Mr Football-Club owner who nobody knows or cares about totally ignored. It’s always amusing to see these tycoons trying to buy glory by association. The discovery that all the money in world won’t buy you genius or affection must be galling. They attempt to buy up creative talent, clearly recognising the sure touch of the Divine in them, and then screw it all up because they try to grasp the ineffable in their acquisitive way. It was ever thus, from the dimwit Popes and Cardinals who attempted to direct Michelangelo in how to paint, to the record companies who take over a musical genius and chip away until they start to produce the same bland pabulum as everyone else. And who can forget the story of Emperor Joseph II (who he?) telling Mozart that The Marriage of Figaro is OK, only”it has too many notes, that’s all”. I enjoyed the spin on it taken by the writer of Amadeus, getting Mozart to agree and ask the tone-deaf Emperor which notes he should remove 🙂

I was thinking of this hunger for a legacy a couple of weeks ago when the founder of Morrisons supermarket died. I passed one of their superstores the same day and it led me to wonder how many of the staff gave a damn one way or the other. They didn’t even close the stores for a day out of respect. I know nothing about Morrisons’ founder but I thought it was sad. Mammon above all else. When my mother died I wanted the sun and the moon to be switched off; that’s a legacy worth leaving. But then, she did some solid work while she was here. It’s why there’s no weeping in the streets when tycoons die. It’s why I know who Ranieri is but haven’t got a clue who owns Leicester FC. To steal a quote from The Simpsons, “I’m Bart Simpson. Who the hell are you? ” The names of the geniuses still ring clear though, whether they are alive or dead: Senna, Cantona, Ali, Edison, Tesla, Yeats. It reminds me of the verse about Abel in Hebrews 11: “He being dead, yet speaketh”. Ranieri did a magical thing last year, and that cannot be tarnished by his sacking. He should have just held back and not taken them to the top. Middle of the road, he’d still have his job. Problem is, he can’t help it. You might as well tell Usain Bolt to slow down, or Muhammad Ali to stop prancing around the ring. The Welsh have a word for it: awen. When creativity strikes, it’s as natural as breathing for the artist. I can’t wait to see the manager they think is better than Ranieri . Talk about a poisoned chalice.

And the world turns. I hope you enjoy the pics illustrating the products of some fine minds. None of them is a dollar bill. Have a wonderfully creative week.

Save

Save

/by

Rara Avis

 

The things we say – I’m starving; See Rome and die; I would give my arm for that dress/bag/house. If we are to account for every idle word on Judgment Day, I for one am royally screwed.

A Patek Phillipe 1518 watch sold for £9m at auction last week. This is not my usual rant about wasted resources: I’m assuming whoever bought it is using it as a  way to park money. As long as there are other people on the planet willing to pay similar sums, it’s as good as buying a house etc etc. That of course assumes he (trust me, it’s a man) doesn’t drop it—Oops 🙂 It’s ironic though that the worth of this timepiece is that it accrues value as time passes, but only if it’s not actually used to tell time. However, what really caught my attention was the reaction of an over-excited dealer in watches, “I have waited a lifetime to see a 1518 in stainless steel”. I laughed like a drain. It reminded me of the Nunc Dimittis: “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word. For mine eyes have seen the Patek Philippe 1518 watch, stainless steel version”. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? The Messiah, yes. A timepiece, not so much. Or in Trumpese – ridiculous, crazy, nuts! Not the Grand Canyon, the Kalahari desert, or the Victoria Falls. A watch. I know he was properly carried away in the moment but still, it made me think about the ridiculous stuff I say, day in, day out.

I thought I might share some of the beautiful works I have been reading about lately, starting with Fenella Elms’ terrific ceramics and Jane Sheppard’s gorgeous handmade tiles. They are not particularly rare, but that does not make them any less beautiful. If you really want to see something unique and beautiful, look in a mirror. Every human being on this planet is both irreplaceable and astonishing. Have a wonderful week.

(Photos: Patek Phillipe 1518 watch; Fragility of Uncertainty, Fenella Elms; Ceramic Sculpture, Fenella Elms; Jane Sheppard tiles x 2)

 

 

Save

Save

/by

Winter Of Discontent

Oh no! A world shortage of lettuce, broccoli and cabbage!! How will we cope? Yep, you guessed – children all over Europe are pumping their fists in the air and doing cartwheels. As a well-known philanthropist, I would like to donate my lifetime portion of Iceberg lettuce to a grateful world. Don’t all thank me at once. This is what happens when a short-sighted succession of idiots aka the government, believe that it’s a good idea to rely on imported food. Radical idea: why don’t we get some guys to grow food and pay them a fair price for it instead of covering the countryside with solar panel farms and wind turbines. We could call them farmers.

Much as I love the odd vegetable, and I mean odd: I love the stuff everyone else hates – spinach, swede, turnips, parsnips etc, a little can go a long way. I was watching Diners, Drive-ins and Drives (if you don’t watch it, what could you be spending your time on?) and a fabulous guy from the Papi Queso food truck made a Pig Mac. Yep, a grilled cheese sandwich with a slice of Macaroni Cheese and half a kilo of Pulled Pork. He did garnish it with some herbs so that’s the veg bit taken care of 🙂 It looked incredible.

As you might have guessed, I am fed-up to the back teeth, not with Pig Macs, but with winter. As a child of the Tropics through and through, February is always one cold month too many. The walk to the newsagent was so uninspiring that I was forced to look at my boots all the way just to see something attractive. You have no idea of the ghastliness of it all, truly. It is the unholy trinity of grey skies (and not in a Farrow & Ball way), the start of the wretched hay-fever season, and miserable cold weather. And no, I do not wish to get my Vitamin D from a pill. Now if they started selling Vitamin-D infused Tequila, that might help. Note to self: Excellent business idea! So you know what you can do with your Vit D pill. I need sunshine, and lots of it. I love that sign from a beer garden in Hampshire although it makes me long for Summer. I don’t know which is scarier to parents – a toddler that’s tanked up on Espresso or the free Puppy. Yikes.

I leave the final word to my boy Ogden- he can always  be guaranteed to cheer up the gloomiest day:

The Porcupine

Any hound a porcupine nudges
Can’t be blamed for harboring grudges.
I know one hound that laughed all winter
At a porcupine that sat on a splinter.

Have a great week.

 

 

 

Save

Save

Save

/by