Bloggy bloggy bloggy: June 2011

The limited edition 'Basil's Bar' at The Goring hotel is FAB if you haven't been. You're advised to wear beach clothes, and I'd strongly advise taking that advice. I poopooed this advice and regretted it.
Let me put it this way - would you wear tights and shoes on a beach? No you re-heeally would not. Well, then don't here unless you want to feel like a total penis, aka m o i !

It's meant to be the exact replica of a well-loved watering hole in Mustique called Basil's Bar (never bin). They really have gone to town on recreating it as far as i can tell - gone is the grass and the Middletons and now there are washed-up boats, a shark's skeleton, these wonderful signs and even Basil himself has been seen wandering about (or perhaps I just got a bit over-excited and imagined him).

Anyway the signs were too tooooo much not to post....

My GOD this makes me want to jump on a plane right now, fly to Mustique, go to this bar and prod one of the staff to see what happens

FINALLY, somewhere in south west London in fact central London to go food shopping. Unlike Wholefoods, which has irriatingly over the top packaging, large portions and just screams WAAASTE... yes - WAAAASTE really loudly, whenever you go in there. However magnificent the spectacle, i mean who needs an entire gallon of guacamole washed down with a crate of ostrich eggs and family-sized bucket of melon pieces at one million pounds per kg - huh? I don't. But this place really hits the nail on the head.

UNION MARKET appears like a farmer's market with separate counters for cheese and cured meats, a butcher shop, bakery, grocers', fresh pasta stall, deli, sandwich and salad bar and cafe but the great thing is it's all in one place, and you pay like you would do at a supermarket. And behind each counter you'll find a man or woman who absolutely knows a pig's arse from its elbow. It really is the the cow's bollox - and what's more if you find they don't have any in the larder, they'll be happy to order some in for you. AND even give you a call at home to say 'Your cow's bollox have arrived Sir.'

Quite like to just use this as a face mask

To boot, it's right next to my pilates studio (i agree - of no use to you but I'm pleased which is the main thing), but more to the point it's in one of the most lovely London buidlings - the grade II listed old Fulham Broadway tube station - I'd never had known existed if they hadn't stripped it back to reveal the still perfectly painted iron ticket machines (now part of the cheese counter) and a sign that shouts 'TO THE TRAINS!' right above the wine wracks.

It's tempting to run off dramatically in that direction a few testers down. Never ceases to amuse (me... mainly).

My week just deosn't feel complete until I've chatted to Zac who knows more about jamon than a spanish pig with black feet, or James the wine merchant who used to work at Fortnums and bigs up English wines with such gusto that even I'M worried a Frenchman's going to appear out of one of the schnapps barrels and 'thurmp 'im on th'nuse' for saying our champagne is better than 'is.