Hong Kong

Yes, I realise Hong Kong is not really London, but I was sent over for work unexpectedly and was not unexcited. The best part was that BA are doing a deal at the moment where if you purchase a return business class airfare, they will upgrade you to first class on one leg. So I was coming back first class. I have flown first class on BA before when they did this same deal about 5 years ago, and had not really enjoyed the experience (having to ASK for everything does not suit me - when on a plane I would rather be on the same conveyor belt as everyone else and just be fed and watered, lights out etc, whereas in first everything is on request...). So this was an opportunity to see if things had changed, or I had changed, or if I still disliked the experience, ungrateful person that I am.
The flight over was fine, I watched films (Dorian Gray, Cheri and Julie & Julia, plus a bit of Harry Potter) which were OK. Food was fine, and I had made sure I had a seat upstairs which is always great in business class as there are no children allowed up there. Yay! I did get a bit of sleep as well which was nice.
At Hong Kong I bought a tourist octopus card which is really worth it - return airport express train and 3 days of unlimited MTR travel for HK300. I ran into loads of people I knew in the airport waiting for their bags as I was there for a large conference. It is never great seeing work acquaintances when you have got off an overnight flight with unwashed hair. Luckily my bag came out very early, and I headed straight for the train. I think most other people were catching taxis or getting hotel transfers into town, but I never understand that - it takes much longer and is much more expensive. Weird people.
At Hong Kong station I caught the shuttle bus to the Conrad, and checked in. As we had booked late, the only rooms left were on the club floor which is very nice - they do an afternoon tea service from 2:30 to 5, then an evening cocktails and canapes from 5:30 to 7:30, plus you can have breakfast there or down in the cafe, all included. I was not hungry tho', so I just put up the Do Not Disturb light, had a lovely bath and shower with a cup of tea and ate a couple of pieces of fruit from the fruit basket.

I felt pretty gritty, but decided I should get out and about. In the meantime I had had numerous messages pushed under the door from the eager staff:
"I am Jason your room butler, please let me know if I can do anything for you"
"We came to give you your complimentary afternoon arrival tea service, please let us know when would be convenient"
"We came to do your turndown service but the Do Not Disturb was on - please call housekeeping when ready"... etc etc
So I turned off the Do Not Disturb sign and escaped. First I caught the MTR from Admiralty to Mong Kok as I was looking for a red satin Chinese outfit for my gorgeous god-daughter Sasha. Luckily I found one eventually and then looked for a sleep Tshirt for SS - alas nothing stood out, so I moved on and caught the MTR back down to TST so I could watch the 8pm light show that is on every night. I went to the Walk of Stars, and watched the light show. I tried to take some photos (best ones attached) but it did not really capture the constant movement.


Then I went into the Needs supermarket and loaded up on weird food - I got fish skin crisps, some tea and some strange almond cakes and green tea chocolates for people at work.
Next I went back to Admiralty and stopped at the International supermarket for some sushi for dinner.
Back to the hotel, sushi in front of the telly, and off to sleep. Or try to sleep. But unfortunately I could not sleep. So I got on the phone to London and talked to SS, and watched more telly. Then at about 5am I finally dropped off for a couple of hours.
Up and off to the lounge for breakfast. I only wanted toast and cereal so upstairs was fine. If you want a full buffet, downstairs was much better. Then off for a day of work. Luckily this was only ahalf day conference so I went and did a good bit of networking, then came back to the hotel for a snooze.
That night I had a work dinner at a place called Aqua which was pretty ordinary, then back to the hotel bar for a few more drinks, and into bed at about 2am. Up early the next day for the next conference, another long day, and then drinks and dinner at Sevva, hosted by RBS (much jokes about how as UK taxpayers we were actually paying for our own dinner...). I thought the food was great - mixed started of spiced pumpkin soup, scallops and a salad followed by Kobe beef and then a trio of desserts (which I ignored but all the men finished and said were great).
http://www.sevvahk.com/
Then we headed up to the usual bars for drinks. I found the constant beggars very annoying. Every 3 minutes another one would be tugging on your arm, presenting a stumpy leg, or leprous finger, and shaking a basket at you determinedly. Luckily I managed to escape at about 1am as the men were heading off to strip clubs - men on conferences, so charming. I walked back to the hotel with a couple of other lightweights and it was a fairly humid sticky night but a pleasant walk.
More conferencing the next day, then I caught up with some ex-work colleagues. We had some drinks at Sevva to start with (seems to be the only place people go in HK...) and then we headed to a Japanese place at the top of the escalators. This was lovely, I had blowfish for the first time, and it is a definite favourite now. Also loaded up on tempura, sashimi etc. Japanese is my favourite cuisine without a doubt, with Indian a close second.
Back to the hotel, and off to bed at about 1am (early night for a change). I actually got some sleep that night from 3am for a change!
The next morning I slept in, had breakfast late in the lounge again (fruit, toast and cereal), and arranged to meet an old friend from uni, Cheryl, for lunch. I hadn't seen her for years and it was so lovely catching up. We went to a great dim sum place above Central Station and I was in heaven.

I had some more time before flying out that night, so I decided to catch the Star Ferry over to Kowloon and take some photos.

The ride over was lovely as always (and still only HKD2!). I took a couple of photos,

and then there were so many people being awful and meandering along shopping that I got straight back on to another ferry and headed back to Central. From there I walked back to the hotel by using the interconnecting walkways through buildings - HK is amazing like that. Given the weather, you can walk almost anywhere undercover and airconditioned.
Then back to the hotel, collected my luggage and I caught the airport express back to the airport. Easy.
This was my first class BA leg. Unfortunately at Hong Kong airport there is no BA lounge (??) so I was in the Qantas lounge with loads of very loud, obnoxious Australians all shouting. I am not saying all Australians are like that, before people send me hate comments, I am just saying these ones were. Luckily the Sydney flight boarded early so the lounge was blissfully quiet after that. I spent most of the time on the internet, with a couple of snack breaks. The food in Qantas lounges is far inferior to BA lounges.
Then on to the plane. I was in 2K, and immediately was offered drinks, pyjamas etc. All very nice. The flight attendants in particular were really lovely which makes a difference. The other passengers - eek. You could pick the regular first class-ers - they were rude, demanding and contemptuous. Us upgrad-ees were generally relaxed, more quiet and polite. I got straight into my comfy pyjamas (with "First" stitched on the front), put on my blanket and enjoyed my champagne. The loos are great too, same layout as economy, but with the same fake wood panelling as the rest of first class. Really glamorous.

We took off, and we were asked if we wanted dinner then or later. I opted to have it then as it was already 11pm HK time. Dinner was great - I started with soup and then had grouper with hot sauce and rice and then followed with cheese and a glass of Sauternes.



All very pleasant. I had then intended to watch some movies, but unfortunately the system was down on BA as usual, so I just had my bed made, snuggled up under the duvet, and slept.


This was nice, actually, as it meant I got 20,000 free miles since the system was down. Given the movie selection was not that great on this leg, the miles were actually better value :-)
I woke up, changed back into my clothes, packed the toiletries bag, menu, pyjamas and blanket into my bag (doesn't everyone steal from first class?) and had some breakfast (just granola - no airline including BA first class does a good cooked breakfast). We were the first plane to land at Heathrow at 4:30am, and then first off the plane, and we were so early to customs being in first class that there was no one in the booths, a few customs officers actually had to run out to clear us through! Bags came through first, and I was out and into my car 25 minutes after landing. Aaaah. I am now a fan of first class. Of course this does not mean that I would ever pay for it however!!
And as a last note - here are some really weird/silly/strange signs I saw in HK..

The Peaks!

So, Sindy's mother was over for her annual visit, and given the weakness of the sterling, and the beauty of the English countryside, we decided to head up to the Peak District. I have always enjoyed baking a Bakewell tart, and so it seemed logical to go to the place where it started.

I did my usual amounts of research, and booked ahead of time. So, early on a Saturday morning, I collected my mother in SS's car, and we headed up to the Peaks. the journey was surprisingly easy, straight on to the M1 out of London, and barrelling along happily in the car that is made for cruising. The last time we went on a road trip, we narrowly avoided a 5 car pile up on the M1, so I was keen to avoid that this time. But there is something about SS's car that makes speeding too much seem... well... rude. The joys of an elegant car.

We arrived and checked in a little early at our B&B in the charming little village of Pilsley. We were in the yellow room, which had looked small in the photographs, (and the owner had cautioned us it was small), but it was a nice size. I was relegated to the bed by the window (very happy) whilst my mother chose the bed tucked into the corner. We did what we always do on arrival to a new room - I took pictures whilst my mother made us cups of tea.

after our restorative, we headed outside for a walk around the tiny little village. We headed up past the Devonshire Arms pub, up the hill, to be greeted by the most delightful views and stunning countryside. It really is a beautiful part of the world. Heading up the hill past abandoned stone crofts, we cut back across to the road into town, navigating stiles and then cow pats. Mum's new Primark shoes certainly came in for a battering. We headed back down into town, and took a side trip to the Chatsworth farm shop which is in the village. So lovely - I loved a gifte shoppe anywhere, and this had the most beautiful foods, fresh and prepared, jams, meat etc etc. It looked so tempting that we bought a cheese and onion pie, a huge vegetarian sausage roll, and two salads each from the salad bar for lunch.

Heading back down the road to the car, Mum had a side trip to have a photo under the giant tree on the village green, and then we decided to book in for dinner that night at the Devonshire Arms as well.

They were lovely in the pub, put our name down and where we were staying "just in case" (in case of what - flash flooding? World War III?).

Back to the car, and off to Bakewell.

Bakewell was easy to find, parking on a Saturday afternoon was not. Lots of hot, red faced men driving cars full of screaming bratty children, all circling the car park with us. I was very willing to just drive back to the quiet of Pilsley, but Mum in her reasonable way suggested driving along the residential street a bit, and sure enough - there was a spare space on the road (FREE, unlike the hot sweaty car park), and so I nosed the car in.

We walked through the industrial estate into town, and was not surprised to see that the same nasty people in the car parks were wandering nastily around the very touristy, charmless town. I did not like Bakewell at all. I chivvied my mother along to find the two competing Bakewell Pudding shops, took a photo of her outside each for posterity, and we decided to buy a pudding in one of the shops to try with our lunch. They looked incredibly greasy and unappetising, but "when in Bakewell"...

We were getting hungry but there was no way that I was eating our lovely lunch in Bakewell. It really was a very unattractive, chavvy, "could be anywhere" place.

I had read about another village called Castleton and suggested we head up there. Unfortunately I had left my sat nav in the room! Undeterred, we headed off in the general direction that I could remember from my research. After one wrong turn, and going twice around the sides of a triangle, we dug out SS's old "roadmap of Britain 1975" and luckily we reorganised, changed direction and found the town. Ugh. Another tourist hellhole. No parking in the pay parking, and this time (unlike Bakewell) parking on the road was not free either. I found a spot, we looked at each other, and then I drove off again. There had been a much nicer town called Hope on the way to Castleton, so we thought we would head back there. On the way out of Castleton however, I found a side road and we headed down. After much easing of the car down a narrow one way road, suddenly a "car park" in the form of a field with cars parking in it emerged. I pulled in, found a spot, and parked. we were very confused as to what all the cars were doing in the middle of nowhere, but when we got out, it emerged - lots of noise led us to peer through the hedge bordering the tiny carpark, and there was a local rugby match going on!

More importantly, just down the tiny laneway there was a bench under a tree looking over a small bridge, and we were both so hungry it looked idyllic.

Settling in, we ate our salads and bits of veggie roll and cheese tart. Mum then unwrapped the bakewell pudding.

The bag it was in was sodden with grease. There was no way I was trying it. Mum valiantly had a few bites and admitted defeat. I think the word was "Horrible" but it may have been less polite than that.

Back into the car, and bizarrely as I was starting it up, we heard singing. Hymn singing about How Great Jesus was. Oh dear. craning our heads, we could see a large band of conservatively dressed, no-makeup-wearing, uncombed hair types walking along the one lane road back towards town. Bellowing about Jesus. Of course we got the giggles.

I pulled out on to the laneway, and nosed the car through the crowd of bible bashers. Mum was all for grabbing the wheel and knocking a couple over "They'll go straight up anyway", but I didn't want to damage the car.

Back on the road, and back to Hope.

We liked Hope. Firstly street parking was free. It was quiet, a bit dusty, and local. It had a lovely church and large graveyard, and we settled in to go around the stones. The prevailing theme of Hope seemed to be that there weren't many men in that region. The number of graves with one husband and about 3 wives all piled in with various children was amazing. Not sure what the wives would have thought about all being thrown in together, but there you are.

After finishing with the graves, we drove back to Pilsley (they direct route this time) and passed through some lovely forested areas. had to stop and take a photo as the way the trees curved over the road was truly beautiful in the setting light.

Then back to our room and another cup of tea.

Dinner was at the Devonshire Arms, and was lovely. it was also made amusing by the owner, a lovely woman, but one who dressed in the style of a 1920's war bride. She would have been early 40's, and in good shape, but was wearing what could only be called a "sprigged" dress, in 1920's style, loads of ineptly applied makeup (very drag queen-esque), and all her long dark curly hair scraped up on top of her head into an explosion of curls. Very bizarre. the choice and quality of the food however was lovely. We shared the terrine starter, then I had fish and chips and Mum had the cumberland ring and mash. Veggies on the side. Then a crumble was called for - Mum's with cream, mine with custard.

We waddled back over the road to our room, and settled in with another cup of tea to watch some trashy stand up comedians on telly.

Next morning, we were up bright and early (always the way on holiday with my mother as opposed to holiday with SS where 11am is early!). Downstairs for a lovely breakfast with ingredients from the farm shop. We both had the full English, mine with scrambled eggs. delicious. the tea was a little strong (you could have scrubbed an oven with it), but the toast and preserves were stunning.

We were going to Chatsworth House that day, but since it only opens at 11am, thought we would go scouting around a bit first. I had done some more research the night before, and we decided on Ashford on the Water. easy short drive from Pilsley, and I found (FREE) parking on a road just as you entered the village. auspicious start. Mum and I decided to do a circuit of the village, and wandered up past old wells, admiring houses (I picked mine), then up a steep hill to see the views. there was a Sloe hedge (wish i had picked some to make some sloe gin!), and a blackberry hedge (which Mum decided to attack and remove the last of the blackberries). A small dog ignored us and trotted past up the hill. At the top was a dilapidated old farm, an old vicarage, and some other buildings. The views back down to the village were really pretty. Down another steep hill and back into the pretty village. It really was beautiful. We stopped and looked at the ducks in the river, and the old Bakehouse, the village green, a beautiful old Jaguar parked at the church for services and then found another graveyard. Gravestone time! Another very good quality selection of stones, with more serial grooms and small children in families with very bad luck. I had to take a pit stop to the conveniences (very good quality and well maintained), and when I came back Mum had been accosted by the charming vicar who was already late for services down in Bakewell. As we stood in the cemetery, two planes had gone over, with their vapour trails crossing in a very unusual way.

I think by this time Mum had already decided this was the village for her, and this was cemented when we went around the corner and found "Catherine's Cottage". Sold!

Time was marching on, so we marched back to the car, and drove down to Chatsworth. I had the usual excitement of having to open the car door to pay parking attendants (the windows don't work, or rather they do, but they won't go back up again!!), we parked on the soft grass, and headed in. I had prebooked our tickets and afternoon tea, and after realising quickly that we needed an audio guide, we were off.

Chatsworth is lovely - highly recommended. there was also a temporary exhibit of movies that had been filmed there, and some of Keira Knightley's outfits from The Duchess were on display.

Out the back of the display was a statue called the Veiled Madonna which was quite lovely. You can buy a smaller replica of it for £75 in the gifte shoppe that was quite tempting.

So we had a lovely time pottering aroundadmiring the wood carvings, paintings, floors etc. Through the sculpture room (my favourite place in the House) and into the gifte shoppe where Mum bought a book on the Mitford sisters.

Then it was time for afternoon tea.

We moseyed out to the old stables which are now the eating areas, and were shown to our table. the afternoon tea was beaufifully presented, with a full tea menu as well. Refills of sandwiches were offered (and accepted), and we whiled away an hour happily before decided to head back to the gardens. That is when I discovered I had lost our tickets. I still don't know how or where. Very odd and unusual for me. Luckily we were rescued by a bustling lady from the restaurant who "vouched for us" to get into the gardens. It may have been more challenging if we had wanted to go back to the house, but as it was 3pm and only a garden entrance, no-one was really concerned.

The gardens also were lovely, we went around the sensory garden, then headed way up off piste, away from the crowds, seeing a pond filled with giant waterlilies (bigger than an armchair), and smelling the lovely smell of slightly damp forest.

We emerged eventually after Mum kept on calling my attention to how far we had walked, and found the maze.

Since we have both "done" mazes before we figured it would be a doddle. How wrong we were. To make a long story short, we went in and out of this maze for over an hour. In the end, we linked up with a Japanese family, with a very tenacious 7 year old. She ended up finding the way to the centre, and we followed her father to find her. Phew. Such a relief otherwise we might still be there. It was a very well constructed maze! We made our way back to the house, which was equally attractive from the back views.

It was getting late, and everything was shutting, so we headed back to the car - where it had once been in a crowded area of cars, it was now all aloooooonnnne.

Back to the B&B for another cup of tea.

I had booked us into at the Chequers Inn about a 15 minute drive away (since the Devonshire Arms is closed on a Sunday), and so we headed out again about an hour later. this was also a nice place - an old Coaching Inn all by itself on what must have been an old highway. the food was lovely, and the place quite busy.

I had the chorizo salad, and Mum had a roast beef sandwich and chips, followed by lemon tart.

Back to the B&B again, and more stand up comedy on television!

The next morning I had fried eggs instead of scrambled, and we were at a different table in the breakfast room. isn't it strange how sitting at a table for one morning makes you think it is "yours". Mum and I were both quite put out to be moved to another table. Humph!

The breakfast again was lovely, and set us up for the day.

We spent some time with the roadmap decided which way to go, and ended up deciding to stop off at another recommended village, Wisten. We had sat nav this time, and it turned out to be a bit of a mistake. I turned off too soon, and we again ended up on a single lane F road, winding over the hills and down the valleys, with me constantly wondering what on earth I would do if a car came the other way! It was very scenic for Mum, but very stressful for me. But we emerged, and found the village.

Parking, we walked through a 1960's council house area, and then got into the village proper. it was very pretty, and again had a nice church and graveyard. Not a patch on the other two graveyards however. there was an old sheep opposite the church which seemed very tired and kept yawning, so that was a nice bit of entertainment.

Back on the road again, and back to London (with one last exciting stop off for petrol at Watford Gap, which excited Mum greatly!)...

Council estates to sequins

Yes, Strictly Come dancing has returned. This alone has inspired a new blog update - not the lovely holidays I have taken to Derbyshire, Buckinghamshire, (which I promise I will put on here shortly) nor the upcoming excitement of the Galapagos holiday of a lifetime in less than two weeks. Nope, SCD was enough.

The launch of Strictly was a girly affair in London, with 7 of us gathering in Simone’s living room, being fed copious amounts of unhealthy food, and provided with scoring sheets that Simone had put together herself (colour, with photos and everything!). So there was Simone, Louise, Kate, Mary, Stacy, me, and Simone’s old flatmate Debs.
I had a slight adventure on the way there. I had read the instructions, looked at the map, and was so confident that I knew where I was going that I ended up pressing the wrong number 30 in the middle of a large council estate. Luckily I realised before anyone answered, tripped around the corner to the correct address, and all was again well with the world. You have to love the London layout of everything being piled in next to each other.
So, the familiar music and the lighting came up. Tess looked well for someone with a 3 month old baby in a fetching one shoulder bright pink dress. Bruce was still there – oh well.
The format this year is 16 couples (including 3 new professional dancers, all girls, replacing Camilla, Karen Hardy and that weird Kiwi girl who lasted one season, Hayley). SS is happy as the new Canadian girl is fairly attractive. Other males of my acquaintance will be pleased to know that Ola has lost lots of weight this year, but not “where it counts”!

First up was the introduction of the stars and the judges. Interestingly, they shuffled the judges positions around, so it is Craig, Len, Alesha and Bruno in that order – maybe they thought that Craig and Alesha would not get on - ha ha.
Rav Wilding (some guy from Crimewatch) started off with a tango with a new professional called Aliona. Aliona looks just like Ashlee Simpson (Jessica Simpson’s sister if you know her). I thought they did very well – Rav had loads of personality and for a first week was absolutely fine. The judges disagreed and he got a 19 out of 40. They tripped off to Tess’s stupid boudoir out the back but we ignored the comments as we made our own.
Next up was Ricky Groves (from Eastenders) and Erin Boag (my favourite). They did a waltz. He looked very nervous but didn’t really mess up too badly. Uninspiring.
Back to Tango, and out came Chris Hollins with Ola Jordan (sports guy from BBC Breakfast – honestly, how do these qualify as celebrities!!!). He was surprisingly good and got marked very well. Ola really seems to like him (after that terrible Kenny Logan fiasco) and they seem to be a good couple to watch. She was almost dressed for this dance anyway.
Martina Hingis and Matthew Cutler doing a waltz. Alesha was practically swooning with joy watching Matt dance around the floor. Unfortunately Martina was not that great – she forgot the steps at one point, and had a back straighter than a rod. Not good for dancing. They did not do well.
Time for more tango, and who better than some old lady who advertised Oxo at some point. She was paired with the unfortunate Darren Bennet who was slightly dwarfed by her stature. They stomped their way through it, and I could only agree with Craig when he said it was the longest 1.30minutes he had ever had to sit through. Awful, but somehow she still scored above Rav!!! I should say at this point Alesha’s comments consisted of “I know how nervous you are the first week, so well done”. She sits next to Bruno as I mentioned, and coincidentally gave all the same scores as him – yep, a new Mrs Nice Guy, just what we need. That meant Craig’s honest scores stood out even more – he had 2s and 3s, whereas the next lowest mark from the other 3 "jorges" was a 5. Alesha even gave an 8!! This is as expected. And it's not Alesha's fault, really. They must have offered her a lot of money to do the job, and she's only had one hit single since she won two years ago, so she'll know her music career is on the skids. Presenting must look like an attractive alternative. But she has no expertise in ballroom dancing so she has nothing to say. She started off slightly critical, marking low and telling Rav his tango was "stompy" (a technical term) and then either lost her nerve or was told off by the producers, because after two dances she reverts to telling everyone that they looked nervous but beautiful, but did a good job, and giving them a six or seven. Meanwhile the other judges are giving actual interesting and useful information about whether or not the hold was right or the dancer has successfully performed their ball-turns. The problem is that Alesha is trying to be a proper judge who gives marks but she doesn't know what to mark on. They want her to be the Cheryl Cole equivalent but the trouble is, Cheryl is a “professional singer”, whereas Alesha is neither a dancer or choreographer. She can perhaps critique the celebrities, just about, as she's won the show. But how can she ever critique the professional halves of the couples, and what must they think taking her feedback? She has been defending herself in the papers saying she is there to provide an understanding vote on the judges board since she has been through it herself (I wasn’t aware the judges were there to be understanding) and that she has “auditioned” back up dancers when she was in Misteeq and so she is used to picking good dancers. Hmm, moving on…
So who was left of the first 8?
Time for another waltz, this time some very tall long jumper called Jade Johnson with Ian “I always get the tall girls” Waite. They did OK, except one of her shoulders was permanently hunched up like Quasimodo.
Sticking with waltz, and out came Ali Bastion (some actress or other) with everyone’s favourite American Boy Brian Fortuna. Shock of the night – she was brilliant (even Kate agreed). Her dress got massacred by the viewing audience however, with Stacy even marking her down for it (which was a little harsh).
More tango, this time Joe Calzaghe (some boxer) and the unfortunate Kristina Rihanoff (who still seems to have John Sergeant shackled around one of her ankles). They were terrible, truly terrible. And got marked accordingly – the only people lower than Rav on 16.
So, that was night one. We also had the joy of a group mambo dance with the remaining 8 “corples” as Tess calls them. Hilarious. Natalie Cassidy had loads of energy, enthusiasm, red sequins and surplus flesh. Jo Wood was stiffer than a board. Some old bloke called Richard Dunwoody (a jockey I think) who is partnered with Lilia could not remember any steps, so just followed her around smiling and intermittently putting his arms above his head. Ricky Whittle was the standout (no idea who he is) but he could move his hips! Zoe Lucker (from Footballers Wives, so clearly in need of a career boost) will either be helped or hampered by the fact that physically she looks exactly like the pro dancers and so I kept being very confused every time she did something a bit rubbish. It did end with Laila Rouass (also from FW) being tossed over the head of her partner to another pro dancer, which was quite impressive I thought.
Night two was the same 8 “corples” doing Latin – either a rumba or a cha cha chaaaarrrrr. I can safely say the rumbas were embarrassing as always and I have no idea what makes a good rumba, and the cha cha chaaaaarrrrs were adequate.
Rumbas:
Chris Hollins and Ola came out. It was another outfit where I am not sure how she got into it, or how it covered anything – it has sparked the usual Ola debate in any case ... they did great at the rumba.
Also rumba-ing were Rav Wilding (who again I thought did well, but again got panned by the judges), Ali Bastion (who again did very well, and scored accordingly) and Martina Hingis (who was adequate but again uninspiring).
Cha cha-ing were the oxo lady (really, who cares? She forgot some more steps whilst wearing a giant red lampshade and Darren did his best gyrating next to her - I recall he had an older lady before and he does do his best. I can just imagine him getting home to Lilia and saying "Thank god, you're real, you are really real. It was all a nightmare!"), Joe Calzhage (very embarrassing), Jade Johnson (again a bit stiff, but she loosened up a lot from the previous night) and Ricky Groves (who was awful I thought, but the judges seemed to think he did OK – he seemed to charge around off beat just smiling with an open chewing mouth like he was eating hot potatoes).
The 3 new girls did a professional dance which had SS fixated trying to pick his favourite - so far "Oh Canada" is winning rather than "Advance Australia Fair" and apparently "Государственный гимн Российской Федерации" needs a bag on its head and then would be fine - Katherine Jenkins provided some filler music and there was another professional dance.
Dance off time – the lowest two were Martina and Matt (with Alesha asked to give advice on how to improve, and she said “Just put your trust in Matt…” Bleugh) and Rav and Aliona. Luckily, Len came through to save Rav after the votes were Craig – Martina and Matthew, Alesha – Matthew (big surprise!), Bruno – Rav and then Len – Rav. I was happy with that result, but would rather the Oxo lady or the boxer dude had gone – viewer votes again are playing a part.
The interesting thing was that I am recording the shows on to DVD, but just the dances, and the scores (no judges commentary, Bruce and Tess rubbish or random audience interviews). From a 90 minute show, it condenses down to 32 minutes – very telling!

Artisan - SS birthday dinner

So, time waits for no man, and the occasion of SS's 39th birthday slowly crept up on him no matter how he avoided it. Not a fan of birthdays, altho' more because he finds them boring, rather than that he dreads getting older. As he is still mistaken for being in his early 30's (and recently for a 29 year old which made his week, and ruined mine with him constantly reminding me of the error), age really is only a number for him.
I had booked another toptable deal - credit crunch etc, so we were heading to Artisan in the Westbury Hotel for the £30 for 3 courses and a glass of champagne dinner. The day was absolutely glorious - 30 degrees and sunny in London, the nicest day so far of summer. We headed for some drinks first at Rocket in Mayfair - one of SS's old haunts from when he worked nearby. He finds the standard of eyecandy there to be superior to the city, so it keeps him happy while he sipped on his beer to see what Mayfair had to offer that day. I had a gin and tonic and then a Tom Collins, so I was pleasantly relaxed before we even left for Artisan.

We moseyed over to the Westbury, and found the restaurant easily. I do dislike hotel restaurants where they are so hidden you almost need a map or a personal tour from the concierge to find them. I was happy to see there were a number of toptable reservations as well as a normal one, and we were the first in the restaurant at 7pm.

The champagne arrived promptly, as did our menus with a bowl of truffle oiled popcorn to nibble on - it was sublime. We did have to ask for the wine menu which surprised SS. I explained it was because the restaurant presumed that since we were on a deal, we were pikeys and would not want to order wine. But we did notice when other diners arrived that they were not necessarily offered the wine menu as a matter of course. The service was otherwise impeccable, with the waiter very clearly but confidentially pointing out the set menu from which we could order for our special. There were 3 or 4 options per course, so certainly not a problem finding something appealing.

I ordered the pea veloute with langoustine and roe, followed by the red mullet with fennel. SS ordered the berlotti bean salad with 5J ham, and the neck of lamb.

At about this stage, a couple arrived and sat behind SS. They ended up being my entertainment for the night. She was around 29, wearing her best dress, hair all blonded, curled and set, high heels and on her best behaviour - it seemed like this was an early date for the couple. He was wearing a creased white shirt, suit trousers that were a bit short, beige trainers and was about 40 going by the bald spot nestling happily in his dark hair. I am going to call them Debbie and Derek. As D&D sat and the waiter approached with the bottle of champagne (clearly signalling that this was another toptable couple), Derek said very loudly (enough for even SS to hear, and he is uniformly deaf in restaurants), "We are on some sort of deal, but I don't remember what we get for it!" Smooth, Derek, very smooth. Debbie looked a little embarrassed to say the least. The waiter explained the champagne and 3 courses, and Derek said "Oh, right, OK". And they started glugging their champagne.

At this point, our first pre-starter arrived. And out came my blackberry to start taking photos of the various courses. I feel this adds a bit of interest to my blog, and also reminds me what it was that we ate. This was particularly useful at Artisan, because there were SO MANY different courses... You will note as the night goes on it gets darker - we were sitting under a skylight so the early courses benefit from this additional light - the later courses suffer from mood lighting and a slight drunken shake probably...

This pre-starter was like a little meal in itself, consisting of a thin tomato consomme in a shot glass, followed by foie gras miniburger, then a goats cheese ball on a stick topped with a slice of white chocolate, and then two sticks of chewy lemon meringue. I loved the goats cheese and choc combination - SS found it awful. But the tomato consomme was lovely.

Under the foie gras burgers was a little note about Artisan and the chef. I was going to take it and reproduce it on this blog, as it was so trite. but I thought that might be a little harsh. it went along the lines that the chef liked to let the flavours of the food speak for themselves and not overcomplicate them eg "if a dish is made from asparagus, by God you will taste the asparagus". Blah blah blah. It ended with something like "Andrew takes the art out of Artisan" which I didn't understand. This was quite amusing in light of the later amuses bouche that were presented to us to say the least.
At this point the bread tray arrived, loaded up with white, brown, olive bread, walnut bread. I chose olive, SS had the brown walnut. The tray moved on to D&D, and Derek decided to further make his mark by asking for "one white, one olive and one walnut". All for himself. Again, credit to the waiter, not a blink, he just tried to pile the three rolls up on one side plate without dropping anything!
We ordered a bottle of the 2005 Planeta Cecilia Nero D'Avola, which was brought promptly. SS asked to wait to taste it until he had finished his champagne, and this was happily accommodated.

I was expecting the starters to turn up next, but instead there was another pre-starter! Unfortunately most of the amuses bouche were delivered by a younger waiter who I thought was Italian and SS thought might be Spanish or French. Needless to say, he was hard to understand when he muttered what was on the plate in front of us, and so I may not be as good at describing them as I would otherwise be. In any case, this was described as "smoked mackerel with a ginger mousee and shnerfulhumpharama". OK. I am not sure if smoked mackerel goes with ginger and the rest of the plate was not identifiable by taste, so I am not sure what the shnerfulhumpharama was. I think I detected some candied carrot slivers? In any case, it was not the amuse bouche highlight of the evening.

So on to the starters.

My veloute arrived as it should, with a plate beautifully decorated with langoustine, peas and flower petals, and the chilled veloute was poured out from a glass teapot - very sweet. I do not envy the pour little kitchen hand who has to wash out those teapots tho'! The flavours were beautiful - the langoustine added some sweetness and the roe some bite to the smooth, creamy pea texture. I really loved it.

SS's berlotti bean salad was garnished with the aforementioned 5J ham, which was wheeled ceremoniously around the restaurant as each table required it. Apparently 5J ham is from Janugo in Spain, and must have at least 75% black Iberian pig in it. The little piglets are treated with care, massaged and read bedtime stories before being turned out into the forests at 3 months to eat acorns. I don't know how they ensure that the little trotters only eat acorns - maybe there is nothing else edible in the forest? In any case, they are rounded up again in a few months, humanely dispatched, and then cured and dried for 36 months. Apparently the acorns result in a fat that is low in everything bad, and high in everything good, and therefore we should all be eating lots and lots of it at about £400 a shoulder. In any event, SS thought it was fine. the rest of his salad he said was fresh and nicely flavoured. To be honest, I was too busy slurping down my veloute to notice much of what he was eating. Also, Debbie and Derek were receiving their pre-starter at this point (the tomato consomme burger extravaganza), and I nearly choked on a mouthful when Derek said loudly "I didn't order this!". The waiters were so patient and nice to him - they really earned their service charge at that table. Poor Debbie.

At this point, the bread tray man arrived again and offered a refill. With the lovely Derek in mind, I decided to get another olive bread AND a walnut bread. SS had nothing (he is watching his girlish figure I presume).
We were enjoying our wine by now as well - our trip to Sicily was very valuable from that perspective. It only took a couple of days there to discover loads of lovely wine and grape varieties, and I do find now that I seek out Sicilian wines on menus, along with the Californian and South African ones. I can't remember the last time I ordered a French wine...

So, since we were looking a bit hungry after our popcorn, two pre-starters and starter, the restaurant thought we now needed a pre-main. Of course we did! This one was announced as a "frigglefrop foam followed by a shnfflegroop marshmallow and a hippygloppadever". I really can't remember what it tasted like, except that we had to eat it in a different order from that recommended because we needed the spoon with the hippgloppadever on it to scoop the foam out of the shotglass. I think it was nice? bearing in mind to this point I had had a double G&T, a Tom Collins, a large glass of champagne and a large glass of red wine... I also really needed to visit the ladies.

This signalled that the main was forthcoming. And thar she blows!

On return from the ladies, my main was waiting, as SS sat patiently in front of his lamb. The waiter returned immediately to offer me some additional mashed potato, which I accepted.

The mullet was beautifully presented and cooked, the fennel with a lovely bite to it, the mullet sweet and juicy, the mash potato very smooth and creamy. I was very happy and relaxed by now. I was mildly confused when raising a forkful of potato and fennel to my mouth when the fork was empty on arrival. i perused my plate looking for the missing food, and couldn't see it anywhere. I finally located it on one side of the mullet, but decided at this point that perhaps I should slow down on the red wine.

SS said his lamb was very good (altho' not as good as Patterson's). He left most of his mash tho' as expected - he is not a mash fan. I can't really recall what else was on his plate, but it looked pretty, there was a dark red cone of something, and pile of something else?

I was starting to feel very very full, but as it was 3 courses for £30 they brought the menus round again. SS opted for the cheese with a £4.50 supplement, I went for the bread and butter pudding with brioche, raisins, honeycomb icecream and rhubarb as I couldn't really eat anything else, and it had no supplement (credit crunch!). The other pudding alternative was a berry pavlova with other stuff, and I don't like meringue at all.

But, this being artisan, you don't get away without a pre-dessert!!

This time, I could almost understand the waiter. He described the pre-dessert as a custard with ginger and apricot. It was lovely - very sweet but one of my favourite of the amuses bouche. And beautifully presented as they all were.

About this time, D&D had somehow caught up to us in the food stakes. I could hear Debbie murmuring sweet nothings to Derek, and him responding "yeah, custard is OK, but I like more of it!". Poor Debbie.

As we swallowed the last morsel, over came the cheese trolley. It was very impressive, all English cheeses, with a choice of at least 4 in each category of hard, soft, blue and goats. The waiter knew his stuff, and so SS ended up with a stilton, a blue Lancashire, goats cheese, smoked cheddar and another hard cheese, and some quince jelly. All beautifully arranged on a plate with some celery and walnuts (no biscuits of course).

Then the plate was put behind him on the serving station to await my bread and butter pudding. SS missed this little movement, and so about 5 minutes after the cheese trolley had disappeared, he looked at me a bit blearily and said "Whessmycheese?" I explained what had happened, and he said "ShouldIassaboutyourpuddin?". I assured him I could do with a slight break. He decided to take a second slight break to the loos again.

Whilst he was gone, Debbie and Derek made their exit. Debbie stomping a bit ahead of Derek, him shuffling behind her in the trainers, unaware that perhaps things had not gone as well as he had thought.

Before SS returned, the puddings were duly delivered. I had a little of the icecream (not my favourite) as it was starting to melt. It was lovely. Then I just stared at it for a while. I could not comprehend how I was going to eat the plate of food in front of me. It was just physically impossible to put any more food in my body... However as minutes passed I topped up my stomach with some of the brioche which was beautifully flavoured and wonderfully crunchy on top. I felt a little guilty that I was not appreciating it more, as it really was a superb plate of food.

SS tucked into his cheese (very smug having only had one piece of bread). I played with my rhubarb, making the strips into words and symbols happily. I would not normally do that of course, but we had got through rather a lot of liquid assistance at this point, and were both having a whale of a time.

The old couple to our left were now settling up the bill, and a strange contraption of a centre post, and wires protruding from the top with chocolate leaves on their ends was delivered. D&D had left by this point, but I didn't recall seeing them with the tree of choc.

We were both getting tired and were very full, so we got the bill. And sure enough - there was the chocolate tree. I could not force even one of the little leaves into my mouth, but SS had a couple of them. He was also so relaxed an laid back he SUGGESTED I take a photo of him and the tree. Here is the result - not his best angle, and the wine goggles are apparent (I hate to think what I looked like by now!).

We then exited, with SS doing usual usual "Thankyou!" very loudly to various pillars and doorframes, rather than people, and out on to the street. I was insisting on the credit crunch approach, so we floated up the road to Oxford Circus tube, and headed home.

Somehow (I am not sure how), when we got in 25 minutes later, I was able to bring in and fold some washing, match up socks and put them away, and do two games on my Dr Kawashima's Advanced Brain Training with perfectly passable scores I seem to recall.

Hopefully a good birthday for SS in any case...

All better!

It is so nice to be well again. We are both oink free, and on the mend. I wish I could say the same for the miserable UK weather at the moment. Overcast and damp - we may as well live in Ireland! It is also nice to have weaned SS of the Lemsip - I thought he was going to start looking jaundiced if he drank much more of it.

The funniest part of the week was when I got a pathetic text on Thursday asking me to go and collect a prescription from Boots. The doctor had happily done this over the phone for him. He had no idea what it was, and I thought it quite amusing when it turned out to be a course of Tamiflu. As he was already on day 4 of the lurgy there did not seem much point in taking it, so the Tamiflu is now being hoarded by him "just in case". In case of an epidemic?? Or a new virus??? Or nuclear war??? Hilarious - his one little packet will make all the difference!

I caught up with a couple of friends last Saturday to go and see the J W Waterhouse exhibition at the Royal Academy on Piccadilly. It was lovely - they are so theatrical and over the top, but beautiful paintings. We all agreed that we like one picture which was the Saint Eulalia.

Of course it is all tastefully done - no mention that St Eulalia was 12 when she died after being tortured for her faith, including such horrors as being attacked with hooks, put in a barrel with knives and glass and rolled down a hill, and then set on fire (apparently she suffocated with the smoke and as she died a white dove flew out of her mouth. now, Waterhouse was happy to use the dove (see right of the painting), but left out the blood and disfigurement apart from slightly non-aligned legs! I can see why - much more pleasing really.

Otherwise, SS and I reinvigorated Restaurant Club with a visit to Pattersons in Mayfair. It was on a Toptable deal for 50% off but was absolutely delightful. We are now in the deep recession such that restaurant club is only permitted to be held at a special offer good restaurant. not sure how long that pledge will last but we shall see. Anyway, on to Pattersons.

As mentioned, it is in Mayfair, so we decided to get a drink first at Amuse Bouche - a champagne bar on Poland Street. Unfortunately I had worn some very high narrow heels (one must make an effort). Getting to Poland Street involved walking along Oxford Street with 6,382 of our closest friends getting in our way. I had to stare at the pavement to ensure my heels did not get caught in gaps, so couldn't move very fast so SS had to keep on stopping for me to catch up. We were both grumpy by the time we finally got to Amuse Bouche. it was quite nice - they had a good dinner deal which we ignored, I had a champagne mojito and SS had a glass of red.

Then off to the restaurant via Carnaby Street. We found it, and went in to an oasis of calm. We were happily sat next to an aquarium (with no fish but with water etc), and I couldn't help but think that my attractiveness might be affected by one side of my face turning blue from the reflection.

In any case, we ordered, and SS ordered a bottle of 2005 Bandol. Bread duly arrived (wholemeal for me, raisin for SS), and then an amuse bouche of a piece of sea bass on a cauliflower puree - delicious.

Our starters followed - lobster for me and smoked trout and salmon for him. I was tempted by the trout, but couldn't order it as their was a lot of snozzcumber involved in the dish - ugh. However the presentation was so sweet I insisted on taking out my Blackberry and photographing the courses - I do it subtley but this always causes SS agonies of embarrassment!!

Officially they were:

SMOKED TROUT AND SALMON FROM THE SHETLAND ISLES HOT AND COLD SMOKED, TIAN OF CUCUMBER, QUAILS EGG, POTATO BLINI AND GAZPACHO DRESSING

and

NATIVE SCOTTISH LOBSTER SALAD WITH LEMON OIL, RATTE POTATO WITH CRÈME FRAÎCHE AND CHIVE, LOBSTER MAYONNAISE AND ASPARAGUS

Both delicious, although I think my lobster had the edge, certainly in presentation - so pretty. SS's had a large strip of snozzcumber wrapped around it which is never a good thing!

On to the mains. I stuck with the fish theme with halibut which was fantastic.

HALIBUT POACHED, WITH A CONSOMMÉ OF GARDEN PEAS, TORTELLINI OF MACKEREL AND CREAMY VEGETABLES

SS had the lamb, which he said was the best lamb he had ever eaten.

LAMB ON A TARTE FINE WITH CAULIFLOWER AND ALMOND PUREE, WITH SHALLOTS, CEPES, CROQUETTE, CRESS SALAD AND PERSILLADE

For some reason, I could not finish my main, I was suddenly very full. So we did that most terrible of things and swapped plates when the waiters were otherwise engaged. SS was quite happy as I must say the serving sizes were very small. Not sure why I was full on that basis, but I was. He also enjoyed my main, saying the vegetables were cooked beautifully (which they were!).

The wine was absolutely sublime.

I did look at the pudding menu just for completeness, altho' they don't do much for me these days. There was one particular We rounded off with the cheese plates, and I had a whisky on the side whilst SS had a Tokaji. All rather pleasant. I would definitely recommend it, but the serving sizes would be small for a large hungry man. Next restaurant club is still to be decided - I will see what offers come up for September!

In the meantime, SSs birthday is coming up, and we are heading to Artisan. Update to follow!

Salad and sickness

SS and I are both sick. Last weekend a friend of ours came down from Norfolk to accompany us to the Lovebox festival (yes, Duran Duran really are looking fat these days). Unfortunately, said friend was just recovering from a bad dose of flu. When he said recovering, we thought he meant 95% recovered. Unfortunately we all discovered he was about 40% recovered at about 9pm on Saturday night when he felt ill and had to leave. Sunday he could barely move, although he did manage to drag himself back to Kings Cross and on to the train to infect more people on the way home. Lovely to see him as always, but he did leave his germs behind. SS is a day ahead of me in infection terms. Today he has been sent home from work and is lying in bed groaning, looking puffy, bleary eyed and sorry for himself, sucking down Lemsip and blowing his nose a lot while shivering. I am at work still, with a very sore throat, runny nose and slight headache. So at least I know what is in store for me tomorrow - I will try to avoid the bleary eyed part tho' - not very elegant.
And before anyone says anything, I have no idea if this is oinky flu or not, it doesn't really matter does it? Doctors refuse to see you in any case, and most people just recover so my plan is to just get over it really.
But on to more exciting things. I decided to use up leftover freezer stuff for dinner last night as neither of us felt well. This led us to garlic bread and pepperoni pizza (don't ask!). They were at least from Waitrose so that is not too bad. SS wanted something that looked vaguely healthy with this however, so I made a salad. Now of course, we did not have salad in the freezer, so where did I get it from? My windowsill!!!! I am officially green fingered. For the first time I have branched out from herbs (which I tend to kill anyway) into rocket and tomatoes. My rocket is the most peppery I have ever tasted - delightful, and I bought some tumbling tom tomato plants, all from Homebase. Total investment of £3. The rocket LOVES being cut, and I have been using that for a while - I stick it on top of everything from curries to casseroles. I think SS is scared it might turn up on his cereal. The more it is cut, the more it grows back. I adore it. And the tomatoes after looking very unpromising have come into their own now. They flower, they fruit, they ripen, and they are delicious. It is like magic.
So last night was a milestone - the first time I have been able to make a salad from all home grown ingredients. And with a bit of olive oil, pepper and tabasco, it was delicious. Very proud!
Today is grey and overcast and raining again, but not cold anyway. Time for me to concentrate on getting better now I think.

New York again

Since it has been over a year since I lasted visited NY, it was a great excuse when SS announced he had to visit there for work. This announcement came in the second week of June, with the anticipated time of the work trip being early July. Hmmm. This is again where the big world of girls vs boys rears its ugly head. Girls generally like to plan. There are varying degrees of planning (varying from a slight fetish to the levels of my sister, the most compulsive minute by minute planner I have ever known - great when you are travelling with her). Mine tends to fall somewhere in the middle. I would never arrive in a foreign country without at least the first few nights of hotel accommodation in place, but I don't need to have investigated what I will do there or where I am going to eat. However when trying to match a trip up to a boy's work trip, things become complicated. Whilst I didn't have to worry about accommodation (it was his work trip after all), I did need to book some plane tickets. Let's just say it took about 2 weeks of constant "reminding" (ie nagging) to finally get the travel dates finalised. So I booked. And started getting excited.
I managed to get booked on the same flight going out as SS, although I was coming back sooner as it was all annual leave for me and therefore I couldn't stay as long. I also then got SS's booking reference and logged into both our bookings to make sure that a) we were in the exit row and b) we were sitting together. All done. Planned. In a semi-girly way.
After that all I had to do was sit back and look forward to the trip. Oh, and do my packing list of course. I am a big fan of the packing list. It should be done at work (or a non-home environment) the day before travel, and should be done in an Excel spreadsheet with columns. Once the initial list is done, I then try to shrink it considerably, paritcularly the clothes. This is on the basis that I never used to end up wearing everything I pack (apart from the underwear of course), and if you don't have it with you, you can't wear it so you just get on with what you have. This mantra has led to me only needing carry on luggage for anything under 8 days travel these days. The list is then printed, taken home, and packing time is greatly reduced. My packing is done by starting at the top of the list, putting everything on the bed at once, whilst ticking off the list, and then deciding which suitcase is the best size. I needed my smaller suitcase for this trip, and half of it was empty in anticipation of the shopping I planned to do. NY is the only place I have ever been able to shop, I really dislike shopping in general.
So, packing achieved, I was ready for the flight. We travelled out from Bayswater on the Heathrow Express, very easy. Through checkin and security at Terminal 5 in very easy fashion, and then into the lounge. My BA lounge access will expire in November, so I am taking advantage of it whilst I can! Very nice lounge, we settled in with some papers and I headed off to the buffet area. I indulged in toast and some marmite, and then some muesli with fresh fruit. SS had one bacon roll ... and then another ... and then another! Very porky! Then some fresh fruit as well. It was all very civilised. The flight was called and we got up to leave. Then SS did his usual ... whenever we get up to leave somewhere be it a restaurant, lounge, bar, or even home, I have always got my metaphorical or real coat on and am heading for the door when I hear behind me "Just got to pop to the loo." This leaves me in the annoying situation constantly of standing in the middle of a restaurant/bar/lounge etc looking like a lemon waiting for him. Why he can't go before he suggests we leave I do not understand. Usually I now, before getting up, say "Do you need to go to the loo?" just to pre-empt him.
Anyway, on to the plane, all very comfortable.
I now also order a special meal (usually vegetarian) on planes when flying anything other than business. This is on the basis that my meal comes first before everyone else's meaning you finish first, beat them in the rush to the pre-relaxation loo break, and also avoid airline meat which is never nice.
We arrived in Newark, had a surprisingly long wait in the customs queue, and then headed out to the taxi rank to motor in to the Sofitel.
It was still before 3pm when we got there, and we had a small negotiation with the lovely reception staff about upgrades. As we wanted a room as high as possible (further from road noise), we got a lovely one on the 21st floor with a view of the Chrysler Building. If you don't ask, you don't get! We did however have to wait for it to be ready. So we left the baggage there and headed out for a walk down 5th Avenue and down to my old neighbourhood in Chelsea. It was very hot, and we were dressed for the English morning, so I decided we needed a chai tea frappuccino from Starbucks. The first 4 starbucks were filled with chunky Americans spooning whipped cream off their chins, but we eventually found one on 6th and 29th. We settled in, feeling a little travel worn and gritty but happy to be back in town. I sipped away, noticing that it was about 7:30pm in London. At that point my stomach decided to rebel against this treatment and I suddenly felt very ill. Hot, cold, weak, light headed all at once. Awful. SS was very concerned and very nice but there wasn't much we could do. What I needed was to be able to lie on the bed and relax but that was not yet an option. Luckily it passed after about half an hour, and some fresh (warm) air seemed to help as we walked back up to the hotel to settle into our room. Bit of unpacking and relaxing, and a quick snooze was called for (always a mistake). I always wake up hot and slightly grumpy. But another shower was very welcome and woke us up a bit.
I had booked dinner at a place on the Upper West side called Fatty Crab. http://www.fattycrab.com/home.html We decided to get some air and see how far we could walk up town, and then catch a cab the rest of the way. We wandered through Times Square, and up Broadway on a lovely evening. I do love being in New York. Then we realised by the time we got to Columbus Circle that we were running late, so eventually we found a cab and headed up to dinner.
Fatty Crab was quite funky, with tattooed waiters, an outdoor sidewalk area, and music playing. We got our menus which our "server" explained to us, and then tried to make a decision. SS decided on the biggest bottle of rice beer I have ever seen (I stuck with Singha), and food wise we decided to share some soft shell crab, short rib rendang, nasi goreng and baby bok choy. Portions were HUGE. MP of the soft shell crab was $35 which in retrospect I wouldn't have ordered, but it was very good. We could not finish half of it. Oh well. Then we headed out again as we were getting tired (jet lag does kick in on your first night!) to try to find a taxi. Saturday night 4th July on Upper West side = no cabs. So I dragged SS two blocks down to get to the subway. He was less than keen.
I loaded up our metrocards, and made the mistake of going through the turnstile first. Unfortunately his card did not have enough $$ on it as the price has gone up since I was last there. So I was trapped on one side, and he was trying to load the card at the machine on the other whilst being so tired he couldn't think straight. After 5 minutes of watching him struggle with the machine I had no choice but to barge through the turnstiles again, re-load his card and pay another fare to get back through myself. Otherwise I think we might still be there... jet lag is not good.
We walked back to the hotel from Times Square, and settled in. As always, I made the mistake of putting a film on "for a few minutes". It was surprisingly compulsive viewing - a film we since discovered is called The Ruins. It involved a group of young stupid American's going to Mexico, trekking out to a temple, and ending up getting infected with killer vines. Better than it sounds. Not so good as to keep us awake however. We both fell asleep, with me waking up about 2:30am almost drooling and with a crick in my neck.
The next morning I couldn't let SS sleep in as we were bussing it out to Woodbury Common to hit the shops. SS has never been outlet shopping at Woodbury Common. When I lived in NY I used to go about once a month on average, depending on who was visiting and whether I was travelling. It is just so easy to get to on airconditioned Gray Line buses, and usually very good shopping. Buses go regularly but given it was a holiday weekend I wanted to be out there early to avoid the crowds that would arrive later. So I coaxed him up and into the shower, and then we walked over to the Port Authority at 8th and 42nd. On the way we stopped at a Europa cafe to get me some toast and him a toasted ham and cheese for breakfast. (I know from past experience that an early start, no breakfast and a bus journey is not a good combination for me). I had "appropriated" a number of small Marmite sachets from the BA lounge at Heathrow so once we had bought our tickets and were queuing at Gate 310 in the port Authority building (how many hours have I queued at that gate??) I was able to marmite my buttered toast in peace and munch happily whilst perusing my fellow travellers.
As readers of Sindy in New York will know, the crowd of people on the bus going to Woodbury common are always an eclectic bunch. This time in my immediate vicinity we had some Australians, some Americans from North Carolina, some Koreans, and also an old Japanese couple where he had one of those wild hairstyles with long gray hair dragged up into a top knot. hilarious.
On we trooped, and off pulled the bus. One of these days someone will start a song, but not this time.
On arrival, we collected our coupon books and headed to North Face to stock up for Galapagos. I got some nice trousers and a couple of shirts, but this was where we first encountered the SS size issue - everything was XL, XXL, or XXXL. You would think that in America these sizes would sell out and everything would be S or M, but nooooo. They understand their usual market and overproduce the fat boy specials. So he didn't manage to get too much there (shorts, 3 tops). Then off to Timberland (he got some shoes for the boat), then we parted and agreed to meet up again in an hour. I didn't do very well at Ann Taylor which was very disappointing since it was one of the main reasons for my trip. I met him again at Barney's, and that is where it got really depressing. Three more tops and two jumpers for him there. He had already got two t-shirts and some swim shorts at Kenneth Cole. Then off to Nine West where I got a pair of sandals. Then we hit John Varvatos - another pair of jeans, two tops, another jumper. All for him. So a very successful day for him, not so much for me. I had to resort to carrying his bags to make myself feel better. We power walkedback to the bus stop, and caught the 1pm bus back to the city. Back to the hotel and dropped the bags off.
I was a bit peckish by now after my toast breakfast so we went to the Red Flame diner next door http://www.theredflamediner.com/ for a snack. SS had a caesar salad, and I had a Popeye salad. My salad was delicious - fresh spinach (hence the Popeye - very original), bacon bits, fresh mushrooms, croutons, carrot shavings and balsamic dressing. Yum. Then we wanted to get some sun, so we walked up to Central Park, found a spot on the grass (me in the shade and him in the sun). I read my book, and he snoozed. We did have to keep on shifting as the sun moved, putting SS in the shade, but that was a minor irritation. I was also amused by a family group sitting nearby - a couple and their about 12 month old daughter, and some friends. The parents were both very relaxed with the little girl which was so nice to see when so many people these days seem to be so nervous with children. The father was actually using the little girls for exercising (which she loved). He started with bicep curls (holding her under her bottom with alternate hands - she had a strong back so just sat on each hand as he did his repetitions). Then he worked on his triceps by holding her by her ankles, dropping her headfirst down his back, and then doing tricep dips by lifting her up and down whilst she was upside down. She had a great time. The sun started going down, so we went back to the hotel for another rest.
That night we caught up with two of SS's friends at a place called Macao Trading Company http://www.nycfoodie.com/nycfoodie/index.php?entry=entry081126-060310 down in Tribeca. Was supposed to be a new hotspot (I hadn't been able to get booked in the night before!). It was pretty empty on a Sunday night. We had a good night, lots of alcohol flowing, but a slightly disinterested "server". It was probably not helped by SS and his friend being on the server end of the table and not being interested in ackowledging her much as they were catching up. It all came to a head when the "server" was clearing our main dishes and dropped a stack on the floor. She stomped off to the kitchen and someone else cleared up and did her shift for the rest of the night. Quite amusing. Then we rolled around the corner for a nightcap.
The next morning we felt a bit the worse for wear so we treated ourselves to fat boy breakfasts at the Red Flame. SS had a prima donna moment where he "didn't want anything on the menu. Humph" which was quite amusing. When quizzed it turned out he wanted bacon, sausage, toast, fried potatoes and tea. ie a normal breakfast without his personal hate (eggs). so that was easy enough. I had the same but with eggs.
Then back to the hotel where I ironed his shirt and he dressed for his meetings. Off he went, and I was free to hit the shops.
First I went to Old Navy to stock up on gym gear and vests. Tick. Old Navy always come through. Then I popped into Filene's and bought some new ballet shoes (they stock a brand called Blowfish which are the most comfortable on my feet), then I dropped up to TKMaxx and got some gift clothes for my various friend's children and a large fluffy chenille bathmat. Then I hit the camera shops.
First I went to my old favourites - the Hassidic jews at 17th street photo. I love this place. It is a small brownstone on w17th street where the scaffolding has been up outside it for as long as I have known it (so at least 4 years). You have a choice of a rickety one person lift up to the third floor, or some dingy fire stairs. I took the stairs. They remind me of all the NY police dramas you see on television in chase scenes and where they discover the body propped in a corner. I expect to see leftover crime scene tape from the last batch. The guys who run it are a nice bunch, but unfortunately their prices were a bit higher than one of the others I had investigated. So I insincerely promised to be back and scuttled back down the creepy stairs again. I went along to Wholefoods and got some sushi for a snack later, then went to drop my purchases at the hotel and relax my feet before heading down to the other camera shop. As I dropped the stuff off, I started thinking about the Popeye Salad. I wanted another one. I deserved another one. I was going to have another one.
So back to the Red Flame diner. At this point I was starting to feel like I should get shares in the Red Flame. I happily read my book and munched on the Monday version of the Popeye (as before, but with green olives thrown in which was a nice touch). Then I headed to the camera shop. This was 42nd street photo, and is run by Italians. I did muse for a couple of minutes on the relative benefits of buying from Jews as opposed to the mafia, but then decided it was much of a muchness. I must have been their favourite customer that day - I knew what I wanted and just went straight forward. A little bit of haggling at the end and then straight to the tills. So one expensive DSLR, one lens, two lens attachments, one padded bag, one spare battery, memory card and a lighter credit card, and I emerged clutching my booty and headed back to the hotel. I got in bed, ate my sushi whilst the camera battery charged (what a slattern!) and happily played with the camera. SS got home late from his boozy dinner very happy, (I was asleep with the light on, camera still propped on my lap and a nasty mark on my cheek from falling asleep on the manual) and after some more relaxing television (trying to avoid Michael Jackson coverage), we settled in for some sleep.
What is it with Saint Michael? His songs are back in the charts, he is front page news a month after he died?? All a bit overdone I think... I didn't mind some of his songs, but it is such a sign of how overblown celebrity has become, this outpouring of grief from people who feel that they "knew him". Okayyyy...
So, back to Tuesday morning. SS kindly popped out to collect breakfast, and so I had toast in bed (with marmite) which was very nice. Thank you again to the kind stockists at the BA lounge for the marmite sachets.
I was determined to try to buy something so once SS had gone to work, I headed out to Kenneth Cole, Ann Taylor, Banana Republic, Gap, J Crew, Saks, Barneys, and bought ... nothing. Ho hum. Then I headed back to the hotel as SS thought he might be able to escape for lunch. He arrived back at about 2pm having eaten, so I popped out for some chinese takeaway for me (which he ate half of). Nice relaxing couple of hours. I heard from my sister who was desperately trying to find somewhere in NY that stocked the new camera she wanted. She got the details and sent them to me, so that I was requested to traipse down to J & R near City hall to purchase the camera on her behalf and secrete it through customs. I decided to go that evening so as to keep my last morning free.
SS was keen to come as well as he was in the market for a computer and J & R stock everything electronic. He only had drinks and dinner later in the evening confirmed from a work perspective. So we dragged ourselves up, and made the mistake of first trying to catch the subway (packed) then trying to catch a cab (very slow in traffic). We ended up with the maddest cab driver I have ever had in NY. He had the best of Billy Joel on his radio varying from very loud (songs he didn't like) to earsplitting (songs he liked and roared along to). He drove like a maniac, then dropped us off three blocks from where we needed to be as it was more convenient for him. To be honest I was just happy to be out of his cab by that stage. We wandered up, I got the camera, we looked at computers then had to head back for SS's evening work engagements.
We caught the subway back up which was very easy, and then walked back to the hotel so SS could change for his nighttime appointments. I was still quite tired at this point, but a bit peckish too. I was looking forward to an evening of playing with my camera and watching rubbish telly (NOT Michael Jackson stuff tho'). My dilemma started again - the Popeye Salad. I wanted another one... I deserved another one ... I was going to have another one...
So off to the Red Flame again! This time the salad came with the core ingredients, but an unwelcome addition of snozzcumber (aka cucumber). Ugh. First move was removing those offending slices from my plate. Horrible horrible stuff. I was then free to chow down happily on the rest. Mmmm, I could eat another one right now!
As I was halfway through my salad I got an email from SS saying "We all want you to come to dinner - where are you?" (I have met his work contacts before). I was supposed to have a conference call with my work an hour from that point, so I gracefully declined the offer (not mentioning the pieces of spinach lodged in my teeth as I munched away as I typed the response). SS suggested meeting them for drinks afterwards, but I must admit the lure of Popeye was so strong I did not reply to that one. I knew what my plans for the evening were - comfortable Sofitel bed, camera and manual and rubbish telly. I know I know - not very NY, but that is what I felt like.
SS eventually rolled in the door at about 2am a bit worse for wear (I was tripley happy I had not met them at that point).
Next morning we went to the Red Flame again (I know I know - I should have taken out shares in it!), had a nice breakfast and SS headed off for more meetings. I headed off to Times Square with the camera and had a lovely few hours getting to know it. I also went to Junior's to collect a small cheesecake for a work colleague who lives and breathes the stuff. By the time I got back to the hotel to pack SS was back for a lunch break. Very nice. So I packed with some company to entertain me, and then SS came and waited with me in the lobby for the Airport Shuttle bus I had booked. I initially thought it wasn't coming as it was late and I hadn't remember to confirm it, but it turned up. A 9 seat minibus with minimal luggage room. I was the second last pickup, and there were already two Puerto Rican guys, two spanish girls and loads of luggage. I bundled in, and off we went. Last pickup was a french family with two small children, and a whole hotel trolley full of luggage - 6 huge suitcases and two pushchairs! For two adults and two very small children?? I could not believe they had so much, or that they would fit on the bus. The driver called his dispatcher but it seemed no other bus was available, so he spent 10 minutes taking all the luggage off and shoe horning all their gigantic bags in. I have no idea how he did it. The terms are very strict on the amount of luggage and the French people made no attempt to apologise for the amounts that they had. They were the type that give French a bad name!
I ended up with the mother and two children squeezed up the back with me, and the father squeezed in with the Spanish girls. They also had to fit the pushchairs in with them. It was ridiculous, and I just sat there thinking to myself "False economies! Sure the transfer was $15 compared to about $70 in a taxi, but SOOOO not worth it. Never again"...
We made it halfway to JFK (of course not taking the toll roads so very slow progress) when the two French kids starting acting up and screaming. Just hideous. The Spanish girls started to get agitated that they would miss their flight as we lost so much time with the French pickup debacle. They started arguing with the driver about when we would get there, which added to the general cacophony. Then it turned out the french were the first to be dropped off as well! That really annoyed the Spanish girls. If I understood Spanish I am sure I would have learned some new swear words. The queue between terminals was at a standstill - it would have been quicker to get out and catch the airtrain around. But the shuttlebus driver had had enough by now of screaming children, ungrateful French people and complaining Spanish, so he pulled out of the traffic, bumped the van up and over the high median strip, went the wrong way down an access lane, and emerged in the next terminal. By this stage I could not WAIT to get out of this shuttle as I had started to fear for my life. Luckily I was the next stop. Rest assured that I ignored the sign on the door of the van that said "Tips are appreciated for exceptional service", grabbed my squished and battered suitcase and bolted into the loveliness of Terminal 7. I cheered myself up by spending the $70 in my purse on a new bottle of Angel perfume (rather than the taxi), and settled happily into the lounge to await my overnight flight back.
Flight back was fine - I had upgraded to World Traveller Plus and had a spare seat next to me which was lovely. Loads of room. I found a vaguely comfortable position involving sitting sideways, with my knees bent over the seat divider, and my head cradled by the "wing" on one side of the seat. The flight time was only 5hrs45minutes so nowhere near enough time to sleep with them crashing food carts around. I did watch "He's just not that into you" which was quite amusing apart from the predictable endings. Got a couple of hours rest, then off at Heathrow. Very easy exit, my bag was the 12th one through (I love status whilst I have it, and yes, I do count), and I got through customs despite being laden with cameras. I was wondering (since you never see anyone as you walk through customs) whether they have infra red and other biological testers trained on people exiting. Picking up raised hearbeats and flushes and other signs of nervousness from us small time smugglers. If they do, they didn't get me. I am hardly high risk category however - the Coleen Rooney's of the world are much better targets I would have thought...