170. A lunchtime stroll

Didn't leave the building yesterday, despite the fact that it was a beautiful day. Decided not to be so pathetic today and walked along the tow path. High tide in this bit of Hammersmith is really high, so suddenly the mighty Thames is lapping the shore only a few feet away and gurgling like the river in all our bucolic dreams. The ducks and coots and swans paddle serenely and even the sculls glide elegantly along.

The River Cafe, that bastion of rich glad-handing, is surprisingly meek to look at. It really does look like the works canteen of the architecture practice next door (which of course it was, originally). They have a verdant array of vegetables and herbs growing outside the back door - almost enough to mask the clinking glasses and braying voices. (I'm only jealous.)

Along a bit further, up to the road for a bit, then back to the riverbank. Some of this prize real estate isn't privately owned - London's good like that, sometimes. Washing hangs out on the line, and I can hear little children playing somewhere nearby. I've gone far enough for now, so I turn tail and head for my desk. The afternoon suddenly doesn't seem so unfriendly, and I have Spring in my step.

169. Lemons

What would I do without lemons? It's a joke in our house that whenever Herself goes to the supermarket she has to buy milk. We ALWAYS need milk, apparently. My foible is lemons.

I need lemons for all cooking. I need them for anything involving tonic or Coca-Cola and if I'm feeling toxic I need them for putting in a cup of hot water. Without lemons it is not possible to make a proper Hot Toddy - the closest thing to a cure for the common cold.

I need lemons to smell - they make me think of summer. I need lemons to provide the base note of every perfume I've ever liked. I need them to hang provocatively from trees all over Italy, just begging to be plucked and smuggled into grey old Britain.

I am going to try preserving them. I think they are probably preserving me.

168. My Own Clothes

No, I have not finally been sent to prison or an asylum and no I'm not working in a supermarket or for the Post Office, but when I did my short stint in the City and had to wear smart clobber every day I did not like it, not one little bit.

Now I have been returned to the land of the creative dept, and I'm sitting here in jeans, a T-shirt and my brand new duck-egg blue daps, I am happy. I feel like myself. Looking smart sometimes is a pleasure. Having to do it every day just to sit behind a desk is weird and pointless. A posh lawyer once described his life to me and it was a series of quadrangles - prep school, Eton, Oxford, Middle Temple, a coffin. He'll have spent all the days of his life in a suit, in a quadrangle.

But I'm happy for the city boys and the lawyers to stay in their suits, so that I can feel grateful for my freestyle clobber. It's still a suit, in its own way, but its permutations are endless.

167. The new kid in town

In three months, I have started two new jobs. The second one is permanent. It's MINE.
I have had a lot of jobs, and some things are always true:

1) You will always spend at least three weeks thinking that literally every single thing that comes out of your mouth makes you sound like a cock.

2) You will wonder if you will ever know everybody's name

3) You will wonder if you will ever make a friend in this new place

4) You will drink a lot with your pals to compensate for being a bit small and lonely at work.

I know the likely outcome to all four. Doesn't stop the old brian whirring. I am trying NOT to do too much of 4 because I am old and tired, but because I am old and experienced 1 is proving to be not too much of a problem.

One thing's for certain - before I know it I will have forgotten what it felt like to be new. Some things never change.

166. A Bacon Bagel

HERESY! I hear you cry. Yeah. Whatever.

Heretical or not, the marriage of a slightly sweet, chewy bagel (from Brick Lane, no less) and hot, salty bacon is - truly - divine. It's good at any time, but when you're slightly hungover and you're replacing fluids as quickly as you can and feeling your age, it's so good it makes you want to sob with gratitude.

Herself is a passionate supporter of a bacon bagel - I think that's where I got the habit. Not that long ago, I had a fried egg and bacon bagel. I can't really talk about it. Some things defy description...



I will be blogging more regularly from now on. I'm back. Oh yeah.

165. Vouchers

One of the few 'upsides' (and that's pushing it) of the recession, has been the proliferation of money-off vouchers. It is thanks to these that I haven't paid full price in Pizza Express for two years, and now don't go there if I haven't got a voucher. For me, the best value is the quarterly 30% off at Gap vouchers which are emailed out and go virally round London like the clap(pers).

It's a beautiful sunny day in London today, and I've done my work, so I'm going to go to Gap and buy something summery with my voucher. After all, I have got a new job to go to - and I've got to make a good impression...

164. Artichokes

Went to Rome for four days with Herself and her parents (and, for one day only, my own Parent). I haven't quite decided about Rome yet, but I have decided about one Roman speciality, and that is the artichoke, or Carciofo.

Not the Jerusalem Fartichoke, the good old globe.

They marinate it until it becomes sublimely soft and slightly vinegary and yet tastes entirely of itself. I had one that had been deep fried and it was crisp and toothsome. I had some with broad beans and some other kind of bean at a fabulous restaurant called Tullio and there was practically a fight to finish it, even though there was lots.

I thought about bringing some back, because I'm sure it's because they're Italian that they taste so good, but I was worried that I wouldn't be able to make them delicious. The Parent, however, has brought back six, (doughty and excellent Parent) so I am going to look up recipes to help her make them delicious and then casually drop by every day at about 7.30pm....


The other things that were good about Rome were: the Palazzo Doria Pamphilj, some of the churches, the taxi drivers, ALL of the food, my Parent's lovely friends, being offered a new job while having the best lunch with a large proportion of my favourite people, the orange trees growing on every corner.