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Thanks and goodnight

Hello there...

No, I haven't given up blogging, but LJ has always been an extra step and I'm going to stop now.

You can read my renamed-yet-essentially-the-same blog over here on Typepad, about food, knitting, my dog, my life over in my new home, etc etc. Or you can follow my journey of learning the cello on Fugue State. Or you can just look at the pictures I take.

So. Keep in touch.

x
You know how much I love to order takeaway food online. And how it appears, magically.

Well, I just found my favourite site. Just Eat lets you punch in your postcode and shows you the restaurants in your area you can order from - online. Not only that, but it does this weird automatic connect thing with an animation that somehow gives me more faith that my food will actually arrive. They even give you an estimated delivery time. Bonus points for real food coming soon possibilty is someone phoned me, from the website, to confirm my address.

Okay, it's a bit random looking as website design goes. But there is now curry on its way, with beer, and my favourite pizza place is on there. I am happy.

It's not Deliverance, but to be honest, everything I've ordered from there arrives lukewarm and soggy. No matter what it is. That's no good.

Root vegetable ruminations

My oven has packed up. In particular, it seems to be the element that is no longer working.

Late November is not the time for no working oven. Why couldn't this have happened in July?

Anyway, of course I am also buried in root vegetables from my vegbox. Hilariously there's a little flyer in my box this week on what to do with kale. The other week I tried to saute some black kale... their description of this variety is: 'strong and robust texture'. So basically the vegetable equivalent of steel wool.

I am drowning in carrots and potatoes. Sounds like a stew is required....

The Burrito Search

So far, best of the lot has been Wahaca. More proper Mexican and less Mission-style, but still good. Despite slightly random service and antiseptic Wagamama-style seating. Here is the last churro, about to be disappeared:
Churros

And the matchbook replacement, in our non-smoking city, contains jalapeno seeds, ready to plant:
Wahaca
Seeds

Flood, eyeliner and a return to knerdness

Ah yes. We awoke this moring to our neighbour's hot water heart contents emptying through a crack in our living room ceiling. At 6am. And I might mention this was the neighbour two floors up - our directly upstairs neighbours had their ceiling cave in.

After much mopping, we went back to bed. Now I should eat. And I should practise. But I'd much rather lie in bed and read all day.

This afternoon I need to hunt for the perfect black liquid eyeliner... I've tried No.7, Dr Hauschka and MAC gel liner. Not thrilled with any of it.

And, I've started knitting again. I broke down and bought the Kim Hargreaves book, and I'm halfway through this Kidsilk Aura jumper. It's going well, I've gone this kind of raglan join before, so I suspect it will work out okay in the end.

But at the moment I'm freezing and don't have a decent scarf. And my husband's head is cold. What a predicament for a knitter.

I love pizza flyers

Seeing these car accidents of print production make me laugh. The dodgy fonts, weird art work and extremely random copywriting just makes me laugh. Most recently:

Try our new... Cheese Stuffed Crust Pizza! (stuffed crust with cheese)

Under Tex Mex:
Chicken Tulip (Tex-Mex) 8 pieces served with dip
Stuffed Chicken Breast (CHICKEN Kiev)
Lamb BBQ Ribs With Chips


Ahh... hours of fun.
Why do I embark on massive cooking extravaganzas when I'm already tired? Friday evening is not the time to try a fish pie recipe when you haven't made a bechamel sauce in recent memory.

So just now I am sitting down with a glass of wine and my laundry in the machine while the pie cooks. I think I've burnt fishy milk permanently onto my hob and I'm looking over my shoulder apprehensively for the pie to bubble over and get fishy bechamel all over my oven as well.

Blah.

At least I get to test out my new Le Creuset dish I bought when I was buying wedding gifts for my lovely co-editor.

I love Topshop next-day delivery - no herds of irritating girls and if you order late at night it's like magic presents because you can't remember what you ordered exactly.

Once upon a time

I've started helping my uncle with the family genealogy, as he's in Canada and the path leads back to England and Ireland. It's quite interesting, trying to track down where your people went and who they were. Jamaica is a bit of a black hole in terms of records, so I'm really following threads that lead to the UK, to and from Jamaica. Thankfully our own family has been good at the record keeping, so there are lists of many improbably named Jamaican relations, mostly from a town called Milk River.

However, when and why the man who shares my last name four generations back decided to go to Jamaica is a complete mystery. I have no idea what colour any of these people were, where my latte-coloured skin came from and my almond-shaped eyes. The family lore was that someone in Jamaica married a woman from India a few generations back, explaining one uncle's very straight hair and my grandmother who looked straight out of a sepia-toned print from the Raj. No luck with this yet, but the physical evidence is too strong not to be true. The mixing must have happened a few generations back, as my grandparents were a similar colour and I'm a couple shades up in the Pantone book of life myself. It couldn't have been sanctioned by anyone back then.

No doubt I'm over-romanticising the whole thing, and somewhere along the line a white Englishman got a servant girl knocked up and there it began.

Misplaced loyalty

Sometime I find it hard to explain to people who have grown up on this island, the big expanses of snow-covered fields that are in my heart as a result of growing up in Canada.

I think about it more when I read Jane Urquhart books, since she is so good at describing it.

London is such a city of tight corners and small glimpses of sky, it's surprising it doesn't bother me more.

But I suppose it does, quietly.