I love London moments

Every so often I have I love London moments. Well, at least that's what I decided I would call them about 15 seconds ago when I thought I needed to write a blog entry that didn't revolve entirely around food*.

So life is normal here. It's like living in Adelaide except people scowl more, I spend way too much time on public transport playing a game I like to call 'Who is a potential serial killer' and always forgetting to bring one of the following when I go out: London A-Z, umbrella, gloves, scarf. But in the midst of going about everyday life, I love it when the true gems of how cool it is to live in a city such as this one randomly appear.

For example, today I hung out in east London. I don't think there is anywhere else in the world where there are so many varied people, cultures, beliefs, sexual preferences, fashion trends, foods, interests in one city. It's truly amazing. For everything that is wrong with this place, there are hundreds of things that are right, interesting and dare I say it, kind of wonderful . Mostly, they are small in significance, but are so validating when every so often you wonder why you would choose to come and live on the opposite side of the world away from your family, friends and BBQ City**.

This afternoon I spent the afternoon eating and wandering and then eating some more. For lunch Vic and I shared a red pumpkin curry amongst people who were playing a backgammon type game on little tables set up in between the eating benches. This crucial lunch decision was only made after at least half an hour deliberating between the Japanese omelet, pad thai, Ethiopian, Caribbean, vegetarian and Chinese. We then kept going past Brick Lane to this amazing bagel place with a line out to the street. After stuffing our faces with a cream cheese and cream cheese and smoked salmon bagel, we went to the flower markets where we got three bunches of tulips for £5 and on the way back, stopped into a vintage kitchenware store who were serving free tea and coffee. When does that ever happen? Especially in London! Maybe this doesn't sound so wonderful to you, or interesting, or exciting, but it was just one of those simple days where life is good and you are happy. Or perhaps I've been spending too much time on the tube sitting next to people whose breath smells like manure and am starting to appreciate the simple pleasures a little too much.

*By the way, food is mentioned, but only in context to the story.
**BBQ City doesn't count as a food reference as it is in relation to matters of the heart

Not signature, but still a scribble

So today I was:

1. Photographed
2. Praised like the slow child in the class who had finally learned how to tie her shoelaces at aged 12 when....

I cooked dinner tonight.

Not signature but still, the flatties were impressed. Probably not with the creation, but more at the fact that I wasn't eating oatcakes for dinner and I was actually frying something.

Dinner was (insert a very impressive drum roll, perhaps royal like)

Seared salmon fillet sauteed with honey, various sauces dans le cupboard and guacamole dip. Served on a bed of baby spinach, vintage (slightly off) tomato, roasted capsicum (ok, it was roasted) and julienne style cucumber. Finished with a drizzle of lime and seasoned with cracked pepper.

The praise of the aroma and presentation were showered upon me by the boys.

Now they are suspicious of my 'new found' abilities and I'm thinking I won't get their leftovers anymore. Boo.

Greatness update

Breakfast: yoghurt and museli (duh, would I have anything else?)

Mid morning snack: boring, not worth writing about

Lunch: smoothie, soup (important lesson learned: 3 cans for 70p = GROSS), toast with honey, muller rice - apple flavour (best rice pudding creation ever), rice cakes, apple

Afternoon snack: too busy presenting work. Yes, I am very, very important. Actually, while I am talking about my importance I'd like to highlight my lack of volume control while talking due to blocked ears as well as sounding like a man. A nasally man. Like I said, important high flyer. Ok, I know I didn't say high flyer before but that's because I only just thought of it then.

Dinner: miso soup, hommus and bean dip with various items from the fridge, oatcakes with honey, yoghurt with honey, some Italian biscuit thing dipped in honey, more oatcakes.

I went a little crazy tonight because I found Aussie honey at the supermarket.

I need a signature dish NOW so I can at least add it in the mix of dairy, honey and oatcakes in my diet.

Signature dish

So I've decided I need a signature dish. You know, one that you know off by heart and can just whip it up when the need arises.

Scenario: dinner party and the host forgot to make a dessert.

Host: "Oh my god, I'm such a bad host, I forgot to make a dessert!"

Me: "Don't worry about it [insert name of host], I can make us a [insert signature dish] in no time."

Host: "That would be great. Thank god I invited you. And here I was thinking you were just one of those people who come to dinner parties, never return the invitation and always have thirds."

Me: "Pfffft, that was so 2007. I now cook and have a signature dish."

I'm thinking that sticky date pudding could be it. Ok, I've made it once. But it was good that one time. Can you claim a signature dish from a one time making? Can you claim a dessert? It's not very useful other than made up scenarios like the one above. I think I need a main dish. Perhaps some kind of green thai curry or something with asparagus. Or fennel. Wait, I don't really like fennel. Leek?

I feel I have the potential to be impressive. Not in a high school report card 'impressive but never applies herself' kind of way, more like, that's the best leak curry I've ever had, shit Vanessa can cook.

I'm going to surf for recipes now.

Please hold for culinary greatness...

Amendment

Obviously I don't want to ride in a hose and carriage. It's probably not that romantic and probably more dirty than anything else. Great. I've ruined my one girly fantasy by making it dirty. Even the word fantasy is dirty now. Sigh. It was late. My brain has a dysfunctional relationship with my fingers. I am an idiot. But I'm keeping it in there for everyone's amusement.

2008. The Year of predictive text.

Yes, I am embracing all things new in 2008. Starting with predictive text. My attitude towards predictive text was originally similar to my initial attitude towards pointy shoes: ugh, yuck, ugly, why bother, you look like a witch. Then, after 5 years of scorn and missing the cool shoe boat completely, I give them a crack and decide they are actually ok. This is now me with predictive text. Previous attitude: ugh, why bother, spell words out yourself dammit and this is another example of laziness in our obessesed with saving time society. Clearly I should spend less time thinking about unimportant things in 2008.

Hmmm, I might start thinking about fiscal responsibility and 5 year plans.

Mmmm, speaking of plan, that rhymes with flan and I saw the best looking one in a window of a bakery in Amsterdam on the weekend.

Where was I?

Ok, I realise it's just predictive text and I'm not making the world a better place or preventing my late life onset obesity for when my metabolism truly dies from eating apple pie for dinner (last night) by promising to go to the gym in 2008, but this is a big thing for me, hence the announcement of its introduction to my life.

Onto other things. After being stopped at the airport by the security frisk lady and questioned about my age i.e how old are you, I was looking around for your parents, I've decided I may boost the maturity levels too this year. Now, don't get me wrong, being mistaken for a 17 year old is nice, but I feel like I get more and more immature as I get older. Seriously, I was way more mature when I was 18. Now, I am about 12 and wearing a trainer bra. Ha, wait, I'm still wearing one. I'm not sure how I go about this 'I am mature hear me roar' thing, perhaps having a competition with your housemates as to who knows the most swear words in different languages (me - hands down.....pfft amateurs) is not a good start. But really, is it ok to be 40 and still laugh at poo jokes? It's scary that according to society/sister precedent/nature I am suppose to be nesting and listening to the faint tick of 30 and it's freaking me out. I haven't even begun to gather the twigs and you know what, I don't want to. I'd rather stick marshmellows on my twigs and toast them over the fire. Hmm, is this some kind of metaphor for my choosing fun over the bur(n!)den (ha - burnden!) of financial responsibility and life stability. Perhaps, and I am so ok with that.

This weekend I enjoyed more marshmellow and went to Amsterdam. God, I love that place. I could happily live there. There's something about the place, the people, it just fits with me. The weekend was relaxing and believe it or not, Megan and I were still sick for most of it. But we managed to eat, drink and shop ok. Thank god.

This Thursday Megan and I are off to Vienna and then Salzburg and I can't wait. Finally, my girly fantasy of riding in a hose and carriage will come true and I will be able to gorge in all things apple and sausage.

Maybe I should go to bed now and actually get to work on time tomorrow, cause that would be, you know, mature.