Two Down, One to Go...

 Apparently I was always dicing with death Dad's informed me. He just sent this pic. of me in the lagoons of the Mississippi river, having clambered to the front after refusing to stay behind the safety bars so I could get a closer look. (It was even closer than it looks btw.)

                Just need me grinning innanely in front of the jaws of a Great White now. . .

Not sure that's going to happen though. I've promised mum to stop throwing myself into the jaws of death.

Turkish Delights!

Ok, I thought I'd had some weird and wonderful pets but it seems the Turks have outdone me. The excitement I got from each of these fascinating creatures really took me back to when I was young. Sadly that time has officially ended - according to National Rail.

From as far back as I have a memory, I longed for a pet like all my friends at school but my parents wouldn't let me have one so instead I kept ants, worms, newts, frogs, stick insects, catterpillas, white bait, hermit crabs, an imaginary fairy named Clatilda (she wasn't really an animal but she did ride on dragonflies for transport), a wild rabbit, (attempted a squirrel, which bit me) and a wild snake UNTIL FINALLY my parents told me if i did better at school or more specifically if I got less black dots for bad behaviour OR at LEAST wasn't the pupil with the most black dots for ONE TERM, they'd buy me an actual pet from an actual pet shop.

So at the end of term I managed to be 3rd rather than 1st for bad behaviour and when I got home there was a letter waiting for me. (Being 9, you don't get many letters, bills, bank statements etc.) When I opened it I saw it was a card in my mum's writing. On the front it read '1 voucher for' and inside she'd drawn a picture of a rabbit. I literally FREAKED OUT, i was so excited. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in my life so far (in my opinion). So at the weekend, my mum took me to Pet City (the stuff of dreams aged 9) and we chose a beautiful silky coated black dwarf rabbit, who I named Millie. She came home in a cardboard box with holes in, she was teeny and her ears touched the ground.

BUT Millie, rather than satiating my fascniation with animals, only left me hungry for more (Gerard Durrel didn't help either), so whenever one died, another replaced it. I think in total I had 3 rabbits, 8 hamsters (I bred them at the end of my parents bed to their horror and they had 6 babies to their further horror), 2 rats and a budgie...

And I've been begging Charlie to let me get a tortoise for a while now but he won't approve it so I"m biding my time...

Anyway, during my trip to Turkey, we encountered some WONDERFUL creatures I'd like to share with you...

Every one was unexpected!

Look who came to visit during breakfast in our hotel Atelya, in Antalya? 

Charlie fed it grapes until it spat one out. Do they eat grapes?

Next on the menu was a white rabbit but INFURIATINGLY i didn't have my camera. I was shown it by the restauranter who cooed at it, stroked it, let me stroke it, then he offered to cook it. 

Here's a picture of a similar bunny for those unimaginative among you...

I didn't eat it, in case you were wondering

One of 6 kittens hanging out on a restaurant roof terrace. Fortunately this wasn't offered up as part of our Meze.

This monkey belonged to a very fat grumpy Turkish man staying on the same sucluded beach as us in a tiny coastal village called Ecincek (pronounced Ekinchek). He had the little thing on a lead attched to him at all times, and it was forever biting at the lead and trying to escape. I've never felt so sorry for an animal. We couldn't work out which region of Turkey he was from and had to admit we hadn't seen any clambering through the trees on our way down. Finally someeone managed to translate what fatty grumpy Turk was saying - astonishingly it turned out the monkey'd been shipped all the way from Indonesia.  

As soon as we walked over to look at it, it immediately jumped from the man's back onto Charlie's arm and refused to return to its owner, who got very annoyed and thought Charlie had prompted ir to do so. (Charlie's laughing because the man is getting angrier and angrier and the monkey refuses to move.)

AND FINALLY for one of the most awe-inspiring creatures I have ever seen that made my heart leap into my mouth and stay there for several mintues.....

...this surreal and beautiful prehistoric-looking creature,  'the giant turtle'. It was around 5ft in length, and over 80-yrs-old; it swam incredibly fast and came up to snap at the dangling crab our boatman was offering him. With a mouth that looked just like a dinosaur's, it made a sound like a carraca as it snapped. I was mesmorised...

....and typically I couldn't stand back and just watch so I launched myself over the side to get closer to it. Here is a picture below of me stroking its head as it snapped at the crab just before it swam off into the deep.

When we got back to the hotel, we sat drinking delicious Efes beer and looking out to sea while I googled more about the turtles. 

One fact, we'd not banked on was that after the great white and the alliagator, these turles have the most powerful bite in the world....

Great.

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AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!

FOOD PORN

Do you remember what you had for lunch last week? Last year?

Well, in my case, I never forget what's launched into my mouth because if it was worth remembering, I record it.

This is something my boyfriend discovered early on in our relationship and it has taken him a while to get used to and accept over the years. I've always thought it entirely normal. It's not just my food, but his food, other peoples food, food at dinner parties, sometimes people in restaurants' food, food I see on the side of the road, or in a shop, it all gets photographed - nothing escapes the net - food that's still alive or that looks repulsive, even better phallic (this of course is normal and also extends to plants, vegetables, sweets, furniture well anything really that's looks remotely like a willy and is therefore hilarious).

Generally, food that looks wonderful and appears in large quantities excites me. I think because I am one half Naylor-Leyland one half Lambton, and as far back as I know, we have all been extremely greedy. My grandfather ate scalding hot melted cheese with a fork (i wish he'd used a spoon because it always went all over my head); my grandmother whipped cream out of a brandy snap cornet; my brother ate half an entire brie once (yes those Frence ones, 12 inch in diameter), hallucinated for 8 hours, cried and thought he was going to die (but didn't I'm glad to say); I have on more than one occasion been taken to the doctors with suspected appendicitis (which turned out to be indegestion - unbelieeeeevably embarrassing); my father has had the Heimlich Maneuver administered on him on various occasions due to swallowing without chewing; and I don't think my mother would ever speak to me again if I told you what she got up to when no one's in the kitchen.  So my obsession with food is actually not my fault but can be blamed on genetics, or just simply and fairly, like everything, on my parents.

So here goes with the most exciting food encountered (and where necessary explained) by me over the past 18 months. It goes in a kind of 'Yum to Yuk' order:

WILTSHIRE:

The argentinian way to eat/crucify your sheep, yet this was on someone's lawn in Wiltshire. Deliciously succulent, not dry at all and rather beautiful even if it did remind me a little of an ovine Jesus.

TUSCANY, ITALY:

My egg and bacon salad for 10

The close up

UMBRIA, ITALY:

These magnificently voluminous sugary bosoms I discovered at the front of a Pasticceria in a hilltop town in Umbria. It took some persuading me not to pack them in my suitcase as presents. In hindsight I may have been well advised.

They sure were!

LONDON:

A delectable jean stand at the Village Bicycle boutique in London

Its close up. Think I used to dream about swimming through this as a child.

BANGKOK, THAILAND:

Wonderful little pastry cakes I found in the Siam Centre in Thailand just before it was blown up by rioters

Now time for some less ravishing but no less fascinating looking food photogrpahy...

This dainty dish below was a type of Thai fondu we foud on the side of the road (at a street restaurant just outside the night market in Bangkok). Although it looks a bit terrifying, it was in fact delicious and an ingenious alfresco type of cooking I'd not come across. You start with a dense lump of pig fat which is placed at the top of this grated pyramid, underneath which are red hot coals, then as it melts, it coats the pyramid in fat ready to receive your first bit of meat or fish.

Then came the slightly terrifying bit - the buffet choice! 

Up at the buffet table were rows and rows of little iced tupperware boxes filled with every type of meat and piece of fish you could imagine and a hell of a lot we couldn't. Slices of beef, lamb, chicken, pork, squid, prawn, octopus, puffer fish, pink fish, bits of fish still with eyes and some terrifying objects that looked like the innards of an octopus but were we 'think' tripe - going by the gesticulations and noises of the resuranteur's sons who tried to explain by pointing to their stomachs and made a sound that sounded a bit like a moo or an oink... might've been a eeyore and a whoof, but we sort of blocked that possibilty out. 

Either way, we were squeamish - and tried it all!

Here I am, living up to my reputation - eating so quckly I'm actually blurred

About 15 dips and sauces were available and as we found out, the best plan was not to ask but to try, although one was so hot I had to ask for something to cool my mouth down. Gesticulating, 'it's hot in my mouth -help!' by panting and waving your hand in front of your mouth, whilst your eyes and nose are watering, evidently doens't mean the same in Thailand though, beacuse they looked puzzled for 10 minutes then finally went off to the kitchen and brought another little bowl (which i hoped might contain some soothing yoghurt or milk) of chilli.

The best part was the moat at the bottom, which had been filled with water to begin with and became a delicious bouillon by the end. Although by that point 'you've made your bed/bouillon, you've now got to  lie in it/eat it' sprang to to mind.

Charlie tucking into his 2nd 'Chicken Ceasar Salad Hot Dog' also from the Siam Centre, Bangkok. He thought he'd found heaven. 

Disgusting boy. Wrong wrong wrong.

Right right right

Now for the less than appertising....

MISCELLANEOUS DESTINATIONS, EARTH (believe it or not):

These were alive and jumping. Fresh - I'll give them that.

Alive also - these giant clambering toads I found next to the veg and fish stalls in a little Thai village market. Perhaps they eat them like jacket potatoes over there...

AND LASTLY, food that's so repulsive it makes you laugh...

This was our Thai Airways breakfast, which tasted as bad as it looked

These delightful little 'soft' baguettes were being sold packaged on the dry shelf (NOT EVEN REFRIDGERATED - gahhhhhh!) at a Japanese food fair in London. So so digusting looking, give me a frogcket potato with baked beans and cheese anyday.

Suitably repulsed?
My job here is done.

'A Short Story' (well it's rather long for a blog but short for a book)

I was on my way back from pilates the other day when an elderly gentleman on a mobility scooter came flying towards me.

This is not me. I can not touch my toes, let alone my head with my foot. 

I was right in the middle of texting in that malcoordinated way you do when walking, focusing closely on your fingers and nearly avoiding lampposts. As I dodged out of the way to avoid my shins being lacerated by the pensioner, the seated gentleman asked if I had a phone. As it was darned obvious i had a phone as I was using my phone, I thought to myself ho ho, this fellow wants to have a little joke so I decided to play along; holding up my phone I said 'Nope, fraid not! No phone!'

As I smirked at my ingeniously clever and quick-witted response to his joke, he looked increasingly worried and said 'Oh dear! Scuse me Sir - do you have a phone?' to the man behind.

Realising the joke had not been well received and the the man was definitely over 80 so perhaps had poor eyesight and hadn't seen my phone in the first place - or my shins come to think of it, I quickly retracted my comment: 'Yes. Yes I do have a phone. It's right here. I was just joking. Do you need to call someone?' I said. He informed me his scooter was running out of batteries and asked if I could call the AA.

'Ha HAA!! I thought. I've been had again! 'Very amusing,' I said 'The AA - eh?'

'I am NOT having you on! came the reply, now even more annoyed.
'My scooter's run out, I'm a member of the AA, I'd like them to come and fix it, so can you PLEASE call them!!' My face reddening by this point, I dutifully picked up my phone, googled the AA and called them.

The conversation went as follows 'If you have a car press -1.... if you are calling about a motorbike press 2..... if you are calling about a caravan or heavy vehicle press 3....' The options started wearing thin and as Mr May was sitting glaring at me, finally I pressed 2 for bike and then hoping to redeem my earlier stupidity somewhat I launched striaght into: 'Yes. I have a Mr May here. He'd like you to come and fix his mobility scooter immediately!
'Sorry madam - what did you say?'
'His mobilty scooter. It's broken down. Can you send someone?'
'Sorry, madam. What kind of scooter - did you say?'
'A mobility scooter - one of those scooters you might use if you've become immobile.'
 'Is this a prank phone call?'

'NO NO!! It isn't. I've got Mr May here who says he's a member and you've come to fix it before.... Could you check his details?'

'Madam, whether he's a member or not, we don't provide a breakdown service for mobility scooters.'
Mr May is at this point tugging on my t-shirt saying 'They do, they do! She doesn't knowww. Speak to someone else!'
So I ask if she's made a mistake so she asks her colleague. He confirms he's just asked their manager and all three are quite sure they don't provide emergency breakdown for mobility scooters.

Alas, I put down my phone and must return to my new friend the bad news.

He looks very annoyed and suggests I send for his nurse to come and charge the mobility scooter instead. As I begin 'I'm afraid I don't have her number... he reaches into his pocket and pulls out 2 brand new mobile phones saying HERE! Call her on one of these.

By this point, I'm expecting Ashton Kutcher to appear and tell me I've been punked. I look around but there seems to be no sign of Kutcher, so slightly cross-eyed I decide it's best not to bring Mr May up on this point, and upset him further so I just attempt the ON button dubiously with one of the phones and to my surprise Ping!! on it goes, with FULL battery and a screenpicture of its owner in the same uniformed outfit grinning proudly on his mobility scooter.

His nurse, it turns out, is from the Royal Hospital, Chelsea. She expresses great surprise when I inform her one of her pensioners is heading for the A4. She explains Mr. May has been unwell and just had his scooter returned to him that morning - a the condition of his recovery. Evidently, he'd got so excited, he'd just gone APESHIT and was heading for Reading.

But the nurse also tells me there's no one to pick him and the scooter up so could I put him in a cab and leave the scooter on the Earls Court Road. This I suggested to Mr May but there is NO WAY he is leaving his scooter on the Earls Court Road which I kind of agree with so I suggest he come with me to my flat nearby on the remainder of his battery and we sit there until my boyfriend gets back from work, when we can give him and his scooter a lift back.

Typically it was the ONE day Charlie was late - 45 miins to be exact and I couldn't get hold of him then my phone ran out of batteries. So I sat with Mr May outide my flat, chatting to him. He told me he had lived in Blackpool and worked on the buses before giving up his pension and moving into the RHC. In my igorance, I'd thought Chelsea pensioners were people who'd always lived in Chelsea but this is not the case at all (if you still trust what Mr May says by this point).

As there was no sign of Charlie and no sign of the chat subsiding and I had a deadline for 6pm (which i was about to miss) I begrudgling persudad him to jump in a cab but on the one condition - that I stayed with his scooter until it could be moved from the  pavement. So off he went and 10 mins later Charlie arrived to find this...

Understanably his immediate reaction was WHAT THE F***! Have you killed an old person?!

As he helped me drag it off the pavement I tried to explain about Mr May, (Charlie seemed dubious. HIs view was the man was obviously trying it on with me - typical) THEN I had to explain to my boss why I'd missed my deadline (it must have sounded a pretty unlikely excuse - i wouldn't have believed me) THEN I had to explain to my friend why I was late for dinner (again he just raised his eyebrows and told me sit down). So, admittedly I did feel a little like I'd made it up....

......UNTIL about 4 days later i received this letter, which had an official stamp on it - one I didn't recognise until I looked closely and saw this:

And a letter (i've swapped his name for privacy purposes):

So apart from feeling a 'little' guilty about dobbing in Mr May so soon after he'd started joy-riding again, I now know that good things come to those who abduct pensioners' mobility scooters.

I will be booking a tour in Sept. and shall report back. Can't wait!

IT's A LONG WAY TO TIPPERAREEEE... and Jamaica it seems. Huh who'da thought?

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

FOOD THEATRE - IN THE SUBWAY

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.

An old war food poster. There are lots on the walls.

Another charmer

A six footer

It's full of humour, theatre and charm this place, and makes food shopping feel, rather than chore-ful - instead, somehow.... like it ought to.

They've even got a freakin' chicken selling you eggs. How authentic is that?

Purbeck - wherever you are, you have a new stalker