The governing UK Conservative party just held a leadership contest, resulting in Boris Johnson being declared the next (unelected) Prime Minister of the country. (This is the second unelected leader the Tories have foisted on us in a row.)
Boris Johnson is a walking (stumbling), talking (waffling) epitome of entitlement, arrogance, and naked ambition. A complete repudiation of the idea, still clung to by some in our class-conscious society, that "breeding will tell."
Of course, the competition for the job was not exactly stellar. It came down to Johnson or Jeremy (cough) Hunt, the man already responsible for sacking the arts and the NHS. It's a bit like being asked if you'd rather be stabbed or shot, to which the only sensible answer is: "Is there a third option?"
Unfortunately, there was not.
As I've been travelling in Southeast Asia over the past month, I sometimes think about bad governance, feel bad for the locals stuck with it, and wonder how different life for them might be if, instead of corrupt pocket-stuffers and military power-grabs, these countries had entirely honest and public-spirited governments.
Then I remember what a dumpster fire UK politics is now, and I feel even worse.
Back to the beach.
Showing posts with label England. Show all posts
Showing posts with label England. Show all posts
Thursday, 25 July 2019
Sunday, 6 December 2015
The London cake crawl
What do you do on a grey autumn afternoon in London?
You can spend the day fighting through the hoards on Regent Street, Oxford Street, or one of the shopping malls, getting more and more frazzled and dispirited. Or you could visit one of the free museums, and soak up some culture with your crowds.
(Let's face it, London is crowded.)
Or, you could say "Sod it!" and go on a cake crawl. Which is like a pub crawl, only with a lot less beer, and a lot more sugar.
(Sounds like a winning idea to me!)
The plan? Hit up 5 bakeries and desert places in a cross-London odyssey, accompanied by my partner-in-face-stuffing Katie.
The rules? Drink lots of tea, and pace yourself. This amount of sugar will separate the women from the girls.
Stop 1: Lola's cupcakes, Lansdowne Row, Mayfair. 13:30
Pretty as a picture, the cupcakes in this tiny cafe / shop come in a wide range of girly flavours. Passion fruit, blueberry, rosewater and pistachio, chocolate mint. Plenty of the flavours are also available in mini sizes, useful for when you'd planned to share, but your companion is disinclined towards your choice of flavours.
I should say here that I've never understood the current fascination with cupcakes. Too often, cupcakes are nothing but dry rounds of plain cake, covered in enough overly-sweet buttercream swirls to give a bunny diabetes. What's wrong with a full-sized cake, where a larger baking volume reduces the odds of drying out, and then slicing and icing layers delivers an optimal cake-to-frosting ratio? Why mess with a classic?
But at Lola's, like at many other bakeries these days, cupcakes dominate the menu, so cupcakes are what we ordered. I had the mini version of the rosewater and pistachio cupcakes, accompanied by a pot of tea. The cake was pleasant enough although slightly dry, with a strong flavour of rosewater emanating from the so-sweet icing, but not any discernible taste of pistachios (apart from a few pieces scattered on top as decoration). Overall, a nice enough place to stop for a sweet, but not setting the world on fire.
How do I feel after eating?: My stomach is primed, I'm ready for stop 2.
Stop 2: Crumbs and Doilies, Kingsly Court, Carnaby Street, 14:30
Now this is impressive. This popular, small shop offers a range of trendy and innovative flavours - salted caramel pretzel, maple and bacon, key lime pie.
Just look at them - they're beautiful....
Making a decision here was hard - I wanted them all.
Finally, my partner-in-face-stuffing and I settled on sharing a large slab of fudgy chocolate cake, topped with salted pretzels. The icing was quite thin on the ground but sweet and had a nice, creamy texture. But the standout was the cake itself - so moist that the icing was barely necessary. This could have been a masterclass in how to avoid dryness.
How do I feel after eating?: I really hate to admit this, but after one mini cupcake and half a big slice, I'm starting to feel sugared out already. I'm starting to wonder if I'm going to fail. I'm weak. I'm pathetic.
Stop 3: Yauatcha, 15-17 Broadwick St, Soho. 15:15
Yauatcha came on the London trendy dining scene a few years back, making a big splash with their Michelin starred dim-sum and their weirdly French patisserie menu (matcha yuzu macarons anyone?).
Feeling we desperately needed a break from the sugar, we stopped into Yauatcha for some dim sum, with the plan to follow with a few macarons, once we'd recovered from our sugar OD.
I don't think I've ever eaten in a Michelin starred restaurant before, so wasn't certain what to expect - what makes a place star worthy? What does a star mean? As far as I can tell, it means a random and redundant fish tank running the length of the bar, a downstairs interior so dark you could pretend you were in a cave, and no mirrors in toilets (as we're now above such shallow concerns). Many of the staff were also surprisingly badly trained for a restaurant of this caliber. I suspect some of the quite pretty young waiters were hired more for ambiance than ability.
We'd only planned to share a pot of green tea and one or two dishes of dim sum (this was supposed to be a snack, not a full meal), but I got over-excited at their extensive menu, and ordered a bit more than intended.
Wild mushroom dumplings (£5.20), from their steamed selection, featured a well-textured thin green skin, wrapped around a forgettable filling. These supposedly contain three different types of mushrooms, but to be honest I found them disappointingly a bit bland.
Char sui buns (£4.80), however, do this classic staple proud. This isn't a dish I normally order, as I find char sui buns can be a little boring, but the friend I was eating with was practically a dim sum virgin, and wanted to try them. I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed these.
And what about their famous venison puffs? (£5.30)
Imagine crisp pastry that dissolves on your tongue like spun sugar. Imagine a decadently rich, sweet and unami-filled meaty inside, one that will make your ears jealous that your mouth is having all the fun. Imagine dim sum, but made by Jesus.
I'll eat these again. As soon as possible.
In fact, can I have some more now?
Too full to order desert (although they did look mighty-purdy), and thoroughly stuffed with tea, dim sum and cake. we decide to walk to our next destination and see if we can face more sugar by then.
Stop 4: Laduree, Covent Garden. 16:45
This tiny and touristy shop was too busy to even get in the door, five people deep. We beat a hasty retreat.
Stop 5: Primrose Bakery, Covent Garden, 17:00
There's still some of plucky blitz spirit left in me, the unwillingness to admit defeat. So I drag Katie (by now becoming a bit of a reluctant participant in this sugar-driven forced march) to the final stop on my planned odyssey.
Primrose Bakery is another one of the "new breed" of bakeries, offering mostly cupcakes. If I'm honest, the cupcakes look a bit ordinary after Crumbs and Doilies - flavours are your standard classics: red velvet, vanilla, choc, salted caramel, carrot. It goes against my very nature to admit this, but I'm just not tempted.
Katie looks at me. I look at her. The acceptance is clear on both our faces.
We can't do it. We're sugared out. We're officially too full to eat cake.
(Silent screaming in my head... the eight year old me is bitterly disappointed in the grown up me.)
We admit defeat, and trundle off towards our respective homes after agreeing that we should do this again soon.
I feel a failure.
A stuffed, waddling, sugar-laden and oh, so very happy, failure.
London has seen a trendiness of walking cake tours in recent times. There's even a bus cake tour, for those determined to not burn off ANY of the excess calories. These are certainly one way to experience a range of London bakeries, and usually stop at places that offer mini cakes or taster-sized portions, to help avoid the dreaded sugar overload. These tours are not cheap, however - expect to pay £40+ pp.
But with a good map and a little will, it's easy (and considerably cheaper) to organise your own cake crawl.
Your sugar-rush awaits!
A final note: please forgive the low quality pictures in this post. I neglected to take my main camera with me, so these photos were all taken on my cheap(ish) phone. Plus I feel like such a doofus taking faffing about taking pictures of my food in public that I tend to rush through it (especially when the food might be getting cold, and I'm really eager to start eating).
You can spend the day fighting through the hoards on Regent Street, Oxford Street, or one of the shopping malls, getting more and more frazzled and dispirited. Or you could visit one of the free museums, and soak up some culture with your crowds.
(Let's face it, London is crowded.)
Or, you could say "Sod it!" and go on a cake crawl. Which is like a pub crawl, only with a lot less beer, and a lot more sugar.
(Sounds like a winning idea to me!)
The plan? Hit up 5 bakeries and desert places in a cross-London odyssey, accompanied by my partner-in-face-stuffing Katie.
The rules? Drink lots of tea, and pace yourself. This amount of sugar will separate the women from the girls.
Stop 1: Lola's cupcakes, Lansdowne Row, Mayfair. 13:30
 |
| All dressed up for Hallowe'en (with a white picket fence adding just a touch of twee) |
 |
| Rose water and pistachio, passion fruit, blueberry - I'm sure these count towards my five a day.... |
But at Lola's, like at many other bakeries these days, cupcakes dominate the menu, so cupcakes are what we ordered. I had the mini version of the rosewater and pistachio cupcakes, accompanied by a pot of tea. The cake was pleasant enough although slightly dry, with a strong flavour of rosewater emanating from the so-sweet icing, but not any discernible taste of pistachios (apart from a few pieces scattered on top as decoration). Overall, a nice enough place to stop for a sweet, but not setting the world on fire.
How do I feel after eating?: My stomach is primed, I'm ready for stop 2.
Stop 2: Crumbs and Doilies, Kingsly Court, Carnaby Street, 14:30
 |
| Mmm... everything's better with bacon |
Just look at them - they're beautiful....
 |
| Not a boring red velvet or coffee and walnut in sight.... |
Finally, my partner-in-face-stuffing and I settled on sharing a large slab of fudgy chocolate cake, topped with salted pretzels. The icing was quite thin on the ground but sweet and had a nice, creamy texture. But the standout was the cake itself - so moist that the icing was barely necessary. This could have been a masterclass in how to avoid dryness.
 |
| Moist and fudgy cake, creamy and sweet icing, salty pretzels. Honey, I'm home! |
Stop 3: Yauatcha, 15-17 Broadwick St, Soho. 15:15
Yauatcha came on the London trendy dining scene a few years back, making a big splash with their Michelin starred dim-sum and their weirdly French patisserie menu (matcha yuzu macarons anyone?).
Feeling we desperately needed a break from the sugar, we stopped into Yauatcha for some dim sum, with the plan to follow with a few macarons, once we'd recovered from our sugar OD.
I don't think I've ever eaten in a Michelin starred restaurant before, so wasn't certain what to expect - what makes a place star worthy? What does a star mean? As far as I can tell, it means a random and redundant fish tank running the length of the bar, a downstairs interior so dark you could pretend you were in a cave, and no mirrors in toilets (as we're now above such shallow concerns). Many of the staff were also surprisingly badly trained for a restaurant of this caliber. I suspect some of the quite pretty young waiters were hired more for ambiance than ability.
 |
| Dark wood, gilt and mirrored bar, redundant fish tank.... I guess that's what impresses "the book" |
Wild mushroom dumplings (£5.20), from their steamed selection, featured a well-textured thin green skin, wrapped around a forgettable filling. These supposedly contain three different types of mushrooms, but to be honest I found them disappointingly a bit bland.
Char sui buns (£4.80), however, do this classic staple proud. This isn't a dish I normally order, as I find char sui buns can be a little boring, but the friend I was eating with was practically a dim sum virgin, and wanted to try them. I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed these.
 |
| I know I should be spending time on these photos, ensuring each is focused and well lit, but I'm salivating too much to bother.... |
Imagine crisp pastry that dissolves on your tongue like spun sugar. Imagine a decadently rich, sweet and unami-filled meaty inside, one that will make your ears jealous that your mouth is having all the fun. Imagine dim sum, but made by Jesus.
I'll eat these again. As soon as possible.
In fact, can I have some more now?
Too full to order desert (although they did look mighty-purdy), and thoroughly stuffed with tea, dim sum and cake. we decide to walk to our next destination and see if we can face more sugar by then.
Stop 4: Laduree, Covent Garden. 16:45
This tiny and touristy shop was too busy to even get in the door, five people deep. We beat a hasty retreat.
Stop 5: Primrose Bakery, Covent Garden, 17:00
There's still some of plucky blitz spirit left in me, the unwillingness to admit defeat. So I drag Katie (by now becoming a bit of a reluctant participant in this sugar-driven forced march) to the final stop on my planned odyssey.
Primrose Bakery is another one of the "new breed" of bakeries, offering mostly cupcakes. If I'm honest, the cupcakes look a bit ordinary after Crumbs and Doilies - flavours are your standard classics: red velvet, vanilla, choc, salted caramel, carrot. It goes against my very nature to admit this, but I'm just not tempted.
Katie looks at me. I look at her. The acceptance is clear on both our faces.
We can't do it. We're sugared out. We're officially too full to eat cake.
(Silent screaming in my head... the eight year old me is bitterly disappointed in the grown up me.)
I feel a failure.
A stuffed, waddling, sugar-laden and oh, so very happy, failure.
-----------------------------
But with a good map and a little will, it's easy (and considerably cheaper) to organise your own cake crawl.
Your sugar-rush awaits!
------------------------------
Wednesday, 16 October 2013
Winter is coming
Falling temperatures and never ending rain – winter is on it's way.
Richmond is one of my favourite areas of London; not surprising then that I've made my home there for 4 years. But it's a summer destination, a place designed for long walks in the park or picnics by the river. It's charms are smothered by drizzle and mud.
Winter falls over the river. The pleasure boats at Richmond are tied up and abandoned for the season. Until next summer, only the seagulls will make use of them.
The weekly farmers market has been shrinking for years; there's only a half-dozen stalls left. The occasional elderly customer still comes to buy winter vegetables. The younger people mostly shop in the supermarket on the high street.
Waiting for a bus on the high street, sudden cold snap: Richmond is known as one of the wealthiest areas in London, but for every banker driving a range rover, there is someone who has to wait in the cold and grey for the bus.
The Thames at Richmond floods repeatedly in winter. Walking by the river after high tide, you'll find the path littered with flotsam, the remnants of the waste carried by the river up from London
Richmond is one of my favourite areas of London; not surprising then that I've made my home there for 4 years. But it's a summer destination, a place designed for long walks in the park or picnics by the river. It's charms are smothered by drizzle and mud.
Winter falls over the river. The pleasure boats at Richmond are tied up and abandoned for the season. Until next summer, only the seagulls will make use of them.
The weekly farmers market has been shrinking for years; there's only a half-dozen stalls left. The occasional elderly customer still comes to buy winter vegetables. The younger people mostly shop in the supermarket on the high street.
Waiting for a bus on the high street, sudden cold snap: Richmond is known as one of the wealthiest areas in London, but for every banker driving a range rover, there is someone who has to wait in the cold and grey for the bus.
The Thames at Richmond floods repeatedly in winter. Walking by the river after high tide, you'll find the path littered with flotsam, the remnants of the waste carried by the river up from London
Wednesday, 2 October 2013
A note to tourists
 |
Yes, he makes a great photo op.
However, he comes attached to pointy bits. Which he sharpens regularly.
And he's aggressive because it's mating season.
So please, please, don't walk right up to him with your bloody phone out.
Thank you.
Wednesday, 4 September 2013
Exploring Richmond Park
One of London's great pleasures are the vast green parks that litter the city. Queen among them is Richmond Park, the largest urban park in all of Europe.
On a windswept autumn day, Richmond Park can make you forget all about the other 7 million Londoners. It's just you, the trees, and the deer (the park is home to colonies of both roe and fallow deer).
 |
| Well, hello. What a lovely grass hat! |
Getting there
Most tourists enter by the main Richmond Gate, situated a 15 minute walk from Richmond Station.
To get there turn left out of the station, and follow the main shopping street; after M&S the street will curve left and starts to climb Richmond Hill. When the road splits, take the high road and you'll soon see the long sloped lawn of Terrace Gardens on your right, leading down to the river and views over Petersham Meadows. At the top of the hill, you'll find the park entrance opposite the large red brick building that houses the Star and Garter Home for Retired Servicemen.
Inside the park
Keep to the right (following a path that runs parallel to the right-hand road) to find King Henry the VIII's Mound, famous for its unbroken views to St Paul's Cathedral in the heart of the city. Climb the small hill to use the free telescope at the top. On a clear day, say you can even see Windsor Castle from here (although this being London, the weather is rarely clear enough to spot it).
After the mound, you'll pass the flowerbeds and manicured gardens of Pembroke Lodge. The lodge houses the park's main cafe - brilliant cakes, cream teas, cold drinks and hot lunches. If it's a sunny day, head straight for the terrace at the back of the lodge.
 |
| With a quack quack here and a quack quack there.... |
Once you've stuffed your face/built up your energy levels, it's time for a walk! Cross the road in front of the lodge and head SW. After about 10 minutes you'll cross a wide paved footpath / bike path. Keep an eye out for a small parking area - next to it you'll find an entrance to Isabella Plantation. Inside you'll discover a collection of camelias and azaleas, heathers, bluebells, daffodils, and lots more.
Flowered out? Turn right out of the plantation and follow the paved path until you see the two Pen Ponds on your left (ducks and geese galore), and White Lodge (home to a ballet school) on your right. If you take the path between the ponds, you'll end up back where you started in 20 minute's walk.
That's only a small loop of the park; you can easily explore for hours if you've got the stamina. Keep your eyes open for flashes of green as you walk - the park is also home to a large colony of budgies.
Want more action? There's a bike rental stall by Roehampton Gate (5-10 minutes NE of White Lodge)
 |
| Budgies living a long way from Australia |
Transport
Richmond is 20 minutes by train from central London - head to Waterloo Station and take a train heading to Reading or Windsor. Richmond is also on the District Line (last stop on the Richmond Branch). It's about 35 minutes to Embankment or Temple in central London.
Tuesday, 9 July 2013
London zoo, one Tuesday in June
 |
| You lookin' at me? You must be lookin' at me.... I'm the only one here |
 |
| I'm guessing camouflage isn't a big part of his life.... |
 |
| Southern tamandua, snuffling for grubs |
 |
| Small monkey having his lunch |
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Kill it! Kill it with fire!
 |
| I'll be seeing these in my nightmares tonight |
 |
| A two headed lizard! With two tails! And eight feet, and.... oh. |
 |
| It's called an axolotl. No, I don't know why it exists either. |
Saturday, 22 June 2013
Tuesday, 28 May 2013
Sunday, 15 July 2012
Friday night at the chippy
It could be any English town.
Friday night. The local fish and chip shop. The smell of vinegar and oil hangs heavy on the warm air. A red fluorescent sign, flashes on, off: “open”.
A steady movement of people in and out of the shop-front: a few families, a few women, but mostly a series of lone men, one after the other.
A family man, hurriedly picking up 4 potions of cod and 3 portions of chips to take home for Friday supper. Maybe he buys a cheeky chipolata to eat furtively in the car on the way home.
A young man buys a portion of chips, unwrapped, and smothers them in salt and vinegar. He eats them with a wooden fork, standing in the street outside. The flashing open sign casts an intermittent red light over the pavement. I think he's fortifying his stomach before a night of heavy drinking with his friends.
A middle aged man wraps his chips in brown paper to take home. Perhaps he lives alone, can't be bothered to cook. There's something sad about a lone portion of chips. The furtive chipolata.
It could be any English town.
Friday night. The local fish and chip shop. The smell of vinegar and oil hangs heavy on the warm air. A red fluorescent sign, flashes on, off: “open”.
A steady movement of people in and out of the shop-front: a few families, a few women, but mostly a series of lone men, one after the other.
A family man, hurriedly picking up 4 potions of cod and 3 portions of chips to take home for Friday supper. Maybe he buys a cheeky chipolata to eat furtively in the car on the way home.
A young man buys a portion of chips, unwrapped, and smothers them in salt and vinegar. He eats them with a wooden fork, standing in the street outside. The flashing open sign casts an intermittent red light over the pavement. I think he's fortifying his stomach before a night of heavy drinking with his friends.
A middle aged man wraps his chips in brown paper to take home. Perhaps he lives alone, can't be bothered to cook. There's something sad about a lone portion of chips. The furtive chipolata.
It could be any English town.
Sunday, 1 July 2012
Tuesday, 26 June 2012
Thursday, 21 June 2012
Saturday, 16 June 2012
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