How to test if your rain jacket is still waterproof.
1. Put on rain jacket.
2. Cycle to yoga in the pouring rain.
3. Get very wet.
To be fair, it didn't start raining until I was halfway there. And it's the first torrential downpour I've experienced this autumn. And I'd anticipated it, so was wearing my rainpants (still waterproof!) instead of a skirt. However, my tights were soaked and I couldn't face putting them on again after yoga, so had to wear my white sports socks with my LK Bennett kitten-heel shoes and my rainpants -- which made me look like a well-prepared yet sartorially deluded member of the Rocky Horror Picture Show cast. Wat leuk indeed.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
It's the great pumpkin, Norfolk Dumpling
Well, it didn't appear from so much a pumpkin patch as a patch of pumpkin-filled pavement on the way back from dinner with Toby, but they're cute, aren't they!
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Entertaining Holly Flanagan
Take a baby to an Amsterdam cafe and watch the grannies and gay men swoon.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Stoke 5: Norwich 0
I don't want to talk about it. Just leave me alone: I wish to wallow in my misery on my own.
That's quite enough architectural whinging
Let's talk about food instead. Thursday's book club meeting centered on The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf, so lots of discussion about cosmetic surgery (50% of attendees had had some form of it), body image, class, and patriarchal conspiracy theories. It turned out, once again, that differences between the US and UK were clear, particularly when it came to our experiences at university. I was quite unusual in knowing of only one girl with an eating disorder -- a girl who lived on the same staircase as me in my first year and covered up the scent of her purging with Chanel No. 5. But the lives of my friends revolved around food; in many ways, it was our drug of choice. Be it Thanksgiving dinner parties for 30, tabasco-drinking contests at home, Oxfam lunches, post-tutorial excursions to Ben's Cookies, or just selecting rooms that were close to good kitchens, we consumed with joy. And while I've thankfully blotted out the recipe for beansprout and kidney bean pizza from my memory, I frequently make Julia's chocolate brownies.
These are, quite simply, the best damn chocolate brownies in the world -- ever. Now, I know what you're thinking but you're wrong. Your grandmother's recipe doesn't even come close, and neither does the one from Cook's Illustrated -- I've tried it. Once you have tasted these, you will never use another recipe or buy a brownie from a shop or cafe. I promise. They're not quite as coronary-inducing as the chocolate ganache cake that Julia and I would make for dinner parties; one lucky recipient declared that he could see his life flashing before his eyes with every bite. But, they're incredibly simple: Even kitchen-phobes can make these.
Melt together 6 oz (150 gm) of butter and 6 oz (150 gm) dark chocolate in a large saucepan over a medium heat. Take off the heat and add 12 oz (300 gm) sugar -- it doesn't really matter if it's caster or granulated, white or brown. Leave to cool for about 5 minutes or until you can comfortably dip a finger in. One at a time, beat in 3 eggs. Finally, stir in 6 oz (150 gm) of plain/all-purpose flour, 1/2 tsp baking powder and 1/2 tsp salt. Mix well so that there are no streaks of flour. Pour into a tin measuring 28cm x 11cm, lined with baking paper. Bake in a preheated oven at 350F/180C/Gas 4 for 30 minutes. The brownie will be crusty on top, squidgy underneath. If necessary, you can leave it for another 5 minutes and it will be slightly drier. Longer than that, and you will have the typical brownie they sell over here -- dry as dust and better suited as cavity wall insulation.
These are, quite simply, the best damn chocolate brownies in the world -- ever. Now, I know what you're thinking but you're wrong. Your grandmother's recipe doesn't even come close, and neither does the one from Cook's Illustrated -- I've tried it. Once you have tasted these, you will never use another recipe or buy a brownie from a shop or cafe. I promise. They're not quite as coronary-inducing as the chocolate ganache cake that Julia and I would make for dinner parties; one lucky recipient declared that he could see his life flashing before his eyes with every bite. But, they're incredibly simple: Even kitchen-phobes can make these.
Melt together 6 oz (150 gm) of butter and 6 oz (150 gm) dark chocolate in a large saucepan over a medium heat. Take off the heat and add 12 oz (300 gm) sugar -- it doesn't really matter if it's caster or granulated, white or brown. Leave to cool for about 5 minutes or until you can comfortably dip a finger in. One at a time, beat in 3 eggs. Finally, stir in 6 oz (150 gm) of plain/all-purpose flour, 1/2 tsp baking powder and 1/2 tsp salt. Mix well so that there are no streaks of flour. Pour into a tin measuring 28cm x 11cm, lined with baking paper. Bake in a preheated oven at 350F/180C/Gas 4 for 30 minutes. The brownie will be crusty on top, squidgy underneath. If necessary, you can leave it for another 5 minutes and it will be slightly drier. Longer than that, and you will have the typical brownie they sell over here -- dry as dust and better suited as cavity wall insulation.
But wait! There's more!
Turns out that merely ironing wasn't enough: I'm not done yet with Norwich's city planners, apparently. The focus of my ire? The riverside development.
Imagine that you have an extremely large plot of land on the edge of the centre of a city, next to one of the most desirable surburbs in the county. It's close to the railway centre and the football stadium. A river runs through it. Nothing occupies it other than a long-abandoned factory. You can do with it what you will. Think of the possibilities: Shall it be developed as a cultural centre, with theatres, concert halls, cinemas, and studios? Or perhaps a fabulously landscaped housing development, mixing low-income and yuppie townhouses and apartments, complete with a primary school, doctor's surgeries, and small local shops? Maybe a sports area, with playing fields, a decent swimming pool, gyms, and sports halls? Even -- radical thought, this -- putting the town's bus/coach station across from the railway station, thus creating an integrated transport network? What fun we could have!
If you're Norwich's town planners, you come up with this:
1. Vast warehouse stores in an unappealing shade of grey: Morrison's, The Big W, etc.
2. A giant car park that mixes wood cladding and brick to ill effect.
3. Large brick "super clubs" and bars, with faux cobbles to soak up the ensuing vomit and ensure that young ladies in towering white stilettos fall over.
4. A handful of apartment buildings, close to the bars for added noise -- all unrelieved by any form of open space or greenery.
Not only do you waste the greatest building opportunity since the cathedral was developed in the 11th century, but you then give permission for the moronic Norfolk builders to throw up blocks of "luxury" apartments between the football ground and the river. These are squeezed in so tightly that many of the flats have no view, and the flats are tiny and badly designed: Forget about storage space or indeed room for a double bed! Not only does form not follow function, but they are completely lacking in any kind of function -- or form. But hey, it's not like the environment influences the behaviour of those within it. People aren't going to have an utter disregard for the places in which they live, work and play if the people who built them didn't, right?
In fact, the Chapelfield Mall and the riverside area are merely symbolic of the British economy as a whole: Dancing on the ruins of manufacturing, they've bypassed the service economy -- now the preserve of Bangalore -- and jumped straight to one based on shopping, inflated property prices, and vast amounts of consumer debt. And if you can't afford to shop or buy a home? Well, screw you -- you don't deserve to be part of this brave new world.
Badly done, Norwich; badly done.
Imagine that you have an extremely large plot of land on the edge of the centre of a city, next to one of the most desirable surburbs in the county. It's close to the railway centre and the football stadium. A river runs through it. Nothing occupies it other than a long-abandoned factory. You can do with it what you will. Think of the possibilities: Shall it be developed as a cultural centre, with theatres, concert halls, cinemas, and studios? Or perhaps a fabulously landscaped housing development, mixing low-income and yuppie townhouses and apartments, complete with a primary school, doctor's surgeries, and small local shops? Maybe a sports area, with playing fields, a decent swimming pool, gyms, and sports halls? Even -- radical thought, this -- putting the town's bus/coach station across from the railway station, thus creating an integrated transport network? What fun we could have!
If you're Norwich's town planners, you come up with this:
1. Vast warehouse stores in an unappealing shade of grey: Morrison's, The Big W, etc.
2. A giant car park that mixes wood cladding and brick to ill effect.
3. Large brick "super clubs" and bars, with faux cobbles to soak up the ensuing vomit and ensure that young ladies in towering white stilettos fall over.
4. A handful of apartment buildings, close to the bars for added noise -- all unrelieved by any form of open space or greenery.
Not only do you waste the greatest building opportunity since the cathedral was developed in the 11th century, but you then give permission for the moronic Norfolk builders to throw up blocks of "luxury" apartments between the football ground and the river. These are squeezed in so tightly that many of the flats have no view, and the flats are tiny and badly designed: Forget about storage space or indeed room for a double bed! Not only does form not follow function, but they are completely lacking in any kind of function -- or form. But hey, it's not like the environment influences the behaviour of those within it. People aren't going to have an utter disregard for the places in which they live, work and play if the people who built them didn't, right?
In fact, the Chapelfield Mall and the riverside area are merely symbolic of the British economy as a whole: Dancing on the ruins of manufacturing, they've bypassed the service economy -- now the preserve of Bangalore -- and jumped straight to one based on shopping, inflated property prices, and vast amounts of consumer debt. And if you can't afford to shop or buy a home? Well, screw you -- you don't deserve to be part of this brave new world.
Badly done, Norwich; badly done.
However, it's not all Roman ruins and medieval lanes
Of course, I'm not claiming that Norwich is perfect. In fact, the past five years have seen the erection of some of the most ghastly buildings imaginable. In two cases, it's not the buildings themselves so much as the locations in which they're positioned. For example:
Ah yes, Norwich's "Forum" -- the replacement for the old library, which burned down quite spectacularly . This example of early 21st century brick and glass monumentalism might work if it were positioned in the middle of a large plot, surrounded by imaginative landscaping and space -- as at the Sainsbury Centre up at UEA, which is just gorgeous. However, the Forum, clearly more exciting than a mere library, is crammed into a tiny area between City Hall, the Theatre Royal, and St Peter Mancroft. The glass front and "piazza" look out over nothing more exciting than the back of Next and the BBC shop, and function solely as a cut-through between the market and Chapelfield Mall and as a place for Norwich's new generation of teen goths to hang out on. The expansiveness that it needs to make it work simply doesn't -- indeed cannot -- exist in this location. It also suffers by comparison with City Hall, its vast expanse of similar brick relieved by many windows and graceful carved figures. When did the decoration of building become an unpopular concept?
My next example: the aforementioned Chapelfield Mall. This is built on the site of the old Rowntree's chocolate factory. Again, this is a building that doesn't work with its environment; rather, it imposes itself onto it. Take a look at one of the main paths leading to it:
That's right: It cuts straight through a churchyard, past the graves of people who've lain there in peace for years -- only to now act as the repository for fast food detritus. Was this really necessary? In fact, was the mall really necesary? Norwich already had the Castle Mall, which now looks like a model of sympathetically restrained design. As expected, units there are now empty as retailers shifted to the new mall, and St Stephen's, previously Norwich's main shopping street, is full of temporary, bargain basement shops advertising permanent sales. It's a mess and it makes my blood boil when I think what could have been done with this site, such as a concert hall, something that Norwich desperately needs. I simply don't understand how a city council with 9 Green councillors and just Tory ones could have approved this. (If it had been Norfolk County Council, that would be a different matter. That Tory-dominated council has always been stuffed full of builders, concrete-happy idiots who dish out contracts and permits to each other with gay abandon.) But these are the same twits intent on reclassifying the quaint medieval streets as The Lanes, no doubt hoping that people will suddenly confuse Norwich with Brighton. Morons.
Gah! It makes me so mad!!! Must go and do some ironing to cool off.
Ah yes, Norwich's "Forum" -- the replacement for the old library, which burned down quite spectacularly . This example of early 21st century brick and glass monumentalism might work if it were positioned in the middle of a large plot, surrounded by imaginative landscaping and space -- as at the Sainsbury Centre up at UEA, which is just gorgeous. However, the Forum, clearly more exciting than a mere library, is crammed into a tiny area between City Hall, the Theatre Royal, and St Peter Mancroft. The glass front and "piazza" look out over nothing more exciting than the back of Next and the BBC shop, and function solely as a cut-through between the market and Chapelfield Mall and as a place for Norwich's new generation of teen goths to hang out on. The expansiveness that it needs to make it work simply doesn't -- indeed cannot -- exist in this location. It also suffers by comparison with City Hall, its vast expanse of similar brick relieved by many windows and graceful carved figures. When did the decoration of building become an unpopular concept?
My next example: the aforementioned Chapelfield Mall. This is built on the site of the old Rowntree's chocolate factory. Again, this is a building that doesn't work with its environment; rather, it imposes itself onto it. Take a look at one of the main paths leading to it:
That's right: It cuts straight through a churchyard, past the graves of people who've lain there in peace for years -- only to now act as the repository for fast food detritus. Was this really necessary? In fact, was the mall really necesary? Norwich already had the Castle Mall, which now looks like a model of sympathetically restrained design. As expected, units there are now empty as retailers shifted to the new mall, and St Stephen's, previously Norwich's main shopping street, is full of temporary, bargain basement shops advertising permanent sales. It's a mess and it makes my blood boil when I think what could have been done with this site, such as a concert hall, something that Norwich desperately needs. I simply don't understand how a city council with 9 Green councillors and just Tory ones could have approved this. (If it had been Norfolk County Council, that would be a different matter. That Tory-dominated council has always been stuffed full of builders, concrete-happy idiots who dish out contracts and permits to each other with gay abandon.) But these are the same twits intent on reclassifying the quaint medieval streets as The Lanes, no doubt hoping that people will suddenly confuse Norwich with Brighton. Morons.
Gah! It makes me so mad!!! Must go and do some ironing to cool off.
Friday, October 27, 2006
It is a fine city; it says so on a sign on the A40!
Weekends in Norfolk don't just involve tramping around Roman ruins in fields; there's the medieval joys of Norwich's center to appreciate, too. Last weekend, we broke the habit of the past year and skipped Loch Fyne in favor of a trip down memory lane -- or to be more precise, Elm Hill. I attended a ballet school for several years as a young child before discovering that my inate lack of grace and rhythm meant I was better suited to drama classes. However, before that soul-shattering realization, I would visit the Britton Arms coffee house before each class accompanied by partner in crime Sally-Ann. We'd share a hot lemon squash before running back up the hill to the dance studio; to a couple of six-year-olds, this seemed like the height of sophistication. This time, however, we had a rather nice lunch in the small garden that the owners have opened up at the back of building, overlooking St Andrew's Hall. I can highly recommend the hot apple juice: autumn in a glass.
I also revisited the topic of one of my high school projects: Norwich's Guildhall. Proving the value of history in the curriculum, I can't remember a damn thing that I wrote -- but it's still a beautiful building, and only enhanced by having a decent cafe (with excellent toilets) inside now. They also sell fab local chocolate, Caley's. Try it.
Finally, much more modern but just as impressive in its own way is City Hall, home to the largest number of Green councillors in the UK. My friend Lucy got to work here in our gap year, while I set up a bridges database at the stunning example of 1960s brutalist architecture, County Hall. She got all the advantages of working close to cafes and the M&S food hall, while I had to make do with the (admittedly excellent) sausage rolls at Norfolk County Council. But I digress: You've not seen civic pride until you've witnessed thousands of people cheering a giant inflatable canary on top of City Hall.
I'll swipe a quote from Wikipedia to sum up my feelings for this city:
"A fine old city, perhaps the most curious specimen at present extant of the genuine old English Town. ..There it spreads from north to south, with its venerable houses, its numerous gardens, its thrice twelve churches, its mighty mound....There is an old grey castle on top of that mighty mound: and yonder
rising three hundred feet above the soil, from amongst those noble forest trees,
behold that old Norman master-work, that cloud-enriched cathedral spire ... Now who can wonder that the children of that fine old city are proud, and offer up prayers for her prosperity?"
George Borrow, Lavengro (1851)
I also revisited the topic of one of my high school projects: Norwich's Guildhall. Proving the value of history in the curriculum, I can't remember a damn thing that I wrote -- but it's still a beautiful building, and only enhanced by having a decent cafe (with excellent toilets) inside now. They also sell fab local chocolate, Caley's. Try it.
Finally, much more modern but just as impressive in its own way is City Hall, home to the largest number of Green councillors in the UK. My friend Lucy got to work here in our gap year, while I set up a bridges database at the stunning example of 1960s brutalist architecture, County Hall. She got all the advantages of working close to cafes and the M&S food hall, while I had to make do with the (admittedly excellent) sausage rolls at Norfolk County Council. But I digress: You've not seen civic pride until you've witnessed thousands of people cheering a giant inflatable canary on top of City Hall.
I'll swipe a quote from Wikipedia to sum up my feelings for this city:
"A fine old city, perhaps the most curious specimen at present extant of the genuine old English Town. ..There it spreads from north to south, with its venerable houses, its numerous gardens, its thrice twelve churches, its mighty mound....There is an old grey castle on top of that mighty mound: and yonder
rising three hundred feet above the soil, from amongst those noble forest trees,
behold that old Norman master-work, that cloud-enriched cathedral spire ... Now who can wonder that the children of that fine old city are proud, and offer up prayers for her prosperity?"
George Borrow, Lavengro (1851)
Bastards!
Somebody somewhere in our apartment building is cooking steak -- and it smells fantastic! Not what a semi-vegetarian of more than 3 years' standing needs to encounter when she returns, hungry, from the gym.
Like I said, bastards!
Like I said, bastards!
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Nights in black satin
Today's PSA: Don't make bread while you're waiting for your freshly painted toenails to dry. A light sprinkling of flour on top of Chanel's Black Satin polish does not make for fashion-forward tootsies.
Right, move along now; nothing to see here, folks.
Right, move along now; nothing to see here, folks.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Abnormal in Norfolk
As children, my siblings and I were often forced to walk around the ramparts of various French towns, most notably St Malo. My father clearly thought we imbibed the history from the stones or some such nonsense. Twenty-five years on, and nothing has changed. A wet and windy Sunday morning? Just right for a brisk walk around the Roman "ruins" -- i.e., bits of wall and a few ridges in a field -- of Venta Icenorum, former capital of Norfolk and stamping ground of one tough Norfolk lass, Boudica. Trying to capture a spontaneous, unposed portrait of Family Dumpling proved impossible, thanks to Miss Katie's unerring ability to scent a camera at 20 paces and strike a pose accordingly. Will she never stop gurning?
I rather like Vince's windswept position atop the Roman ramparts though -- very fetching!
I rather like Vince's windswept position atop the Roman ramparts though -- very fetching!
Cinema City
Yeah, yeah -- I'm a bad blogger. A lousy dial-up connection and all communication stops. I'll try to make up for it over the next few days, although our broadband connection in Dumpling Towers is equally erratic.
So, home to Norwich, which was lovely -- and it is home. One example: We went to the Norwich Playhouse, currently subbing for under-reconstruction (and former Dumpling employer) Cinema City, to see The Black Dahlia (don't bother: it's a DVD rental at best and Scarlett Johansson is atrocious). Prior to the film, I went into the cafe to buy some drinks and it felt extraordinarily familiar -- even though I've never been there before. But the people in there were your typical friendly Norwich lefties; the decor was scruffily comfortable with twinkly lights; and it just felt right. I wanted to stay there, get a job behind the bar, or reclaim my old role as volunteer usher for Cinema City. This is where I fit in!
No wonder so few Norfolk dumplings ever leave. Even to go to Suffolk.
So, home to Norwich, which was lovely -- and it is home. One example: We went to the Norwich Playhouse, currently subbing for under-reconstruction (and former Dumpling employer) Cinema City, to see The Black Dahlia (don't bother: it's a DVD rental at best and Scarlett Johansson is atrocious). Prior to the film, I went into the cafe to buy some drinks and it felt extraordinarily familiar -- even though I've never been there before. But the people in there were your typical friendly Norwich lefties; the decor was scruffily comfortable with twinkly lights; and it just felt right. I wanted to stay there, get a job behind the bar, or reclaim my old role as volunteer usher for Cinema City. This is where I fit in!
No wonder so few Norfolk dumplings ever leave. Even to go to Suffolk.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
. . . and straight on for Norwich
The 30-minute flight from Amsterdam to Norwich is, on a cost-per-mile basis, the most expensive airline route in the world. However, it's worth it just to hear the soothing Aussie tones of the pilot over the intercom saying: "Ladies and gentlemen, we've just turned left and are now pointing in the direction of Norwich. We'll shortly be heading over Great Yarmouth, passing over the Acle Straits, with Wroxham Broad on our right. Landing at Norwich in just under 20 minutes." On a clear day, I can follow the River Yare from Yarmouth, through Acle, Blofield, and Brundall, along past Thorpe St Andrew to Carrow Road. County Hall, site of my first full-time job, is in the distance, the castle and cathedral also visible. 20 minutes after landing, I'm back home, chez Dumpling, with a cup of tea in my hand. This is how travel should be: easy, familiar, expensable.
Norwich 1: Cardiff 0
The second win this week and the second win under our new manager. Long may this victorious streak continue.
FYI: I'm in Norwich for a long weekend, enjoying the company of my people and feeling thin among the increasingly obese burghers of Norwich. The one fly in the ointment? Dial-up Internet access. So no photos and probably relatively few posts. You'll just have to wait until I get back to the 'Dam on Tuesday.
FYI: I'm in Norwich for a long weekend, enjoying the company of my people and feeling thin among the increasingly obese burghers of Norwich. The one fly in the ointment? Dial-up Internet access. So no photos and probably relatively few posts. You'll just have to wait until I get back to the 'Dam on Tuesday.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Gek op bloemen!
There's a scary ad on TV at the moment. It features a gaggle of women meeting a friend at a railway station. One has a bunch of flowers. As we watch them laughing and hugging, a voice shrieks loudly over the top "GEK! Op bloemen!" (Crazy about flowers). The end. It doesn't appear to be an ad for any particular florist, so I'm guessing it was paid for by the IFNLC (Insane Florists of the Netherlands Committee). Terrifying stuff.
However, the Dutch do know and love their flowers. Take these as an example. I headed round to our local florist, asked for a bouquet in pink for friend Jo who's had a baby girl (mother and daughter both doing well), told him how much I wanted to spend, and this was the result. Just gorgeous.
However, the Dutch do know and love their flowers. Take these as an example. I headed round to our local florist, asked for a bouquet in pink for friend Jo who's had a baby girl (mother and daughter both doing well), told him how much I wanted to spend, and this was the result. Just gorgeous.
For want of a decent photo blogging service ...
Because Blogger's photo uploading service wasn't working properly Monday evening, I had to post pictures from work yesterday afternoon.
Because it still wasn't working properly yesterday afternoon, I could only post 4 pictures -- slowly.
Because I could only post pictures slowly, I was late shutting down my machine.
Because I was late shutting down my machine, I rushed off to yoga, forgetting that I was working from home the following morning.
Because I forgot that I was working from home the following morning, I forgot to take my laptop with me.
Because I forgot to take my laptop with me, I had to go back to the office, thinking "Shit, shit, shit! Going to miss yoga!"
Because I was panicking, I cycled incredibly quickly and made it to yoga with minutes to spare.
Because I cycled incredibly quickly and made it to yoga, I now ache today.
I'm blaming Google. Here is the final photo of the 7 (or should that be 6) layer cookie bars.
Actually, there should have been one more. But the photo uploading is on the fritz again, and I just can't face aching again tomorrow.
Because it still wasn't working properly yesterday afternoon, I could only post 4 pictures -- slowly.
Because I could only post pictures slowly, I was late shutting down my machine.
Because I was late shutting down my machine, I rushed off to yoga, forgetting that I was working from home the following morning.
Because I forgot that I was working from home the following morning, I forgot to take my laptop with me.
Because I forgot to take my laptop with me, I had to go back to the office, thinking "Shit, shit, shit! Going to miss yoga!"
Because I was panicking, I cycled incredibly quickly and made it to yoga with minutes to spare.
Because I cycled incredibly quickly and made it to yoga, I now ache today.
I'm blaming Google. Here is the final photo of the 7 (or should that be 6) layer cookie bars.
Actually, there should have been one more. But the photo uploading is on the fritz again, and I just can't face aching again tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Extremely sweet and incredibly good
I've lost weight over the past few weeks. I don't know how or why, and I guess I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, but I am curious. I've done maybe a little less exercise due to all the weekends away; I've cooked slightly fewer batches of cookies; and I'm drinking large amounts of green tea -- which is said to speed up your metabolism. Or it could just be the colder weather making me burn more calories to stay warm at nights. Anyway, to celebrate, I decided to make these 7-Layer Cookie Bars. Although, I could only count 6 layers. To whit:
Layers 1-3: digestive biscuit base with chocolate chips and butterscotch chips.
Layer 4: as above, with the addition of grated coconut.
Layer 5: as above, with the addition of chopped nuts.
Layer 6: as above, with the addition of a can of condensed milk. Okay, not a whole can -- I saved two tablespoons to eat and make toffee nut clusters with.
The whole sugary mass was then baked in the oven for 30 minutes, before emerging as a delectable brown, sticky, bubbling confection. I could feel my teeth rotting just by looking at it. Another trip to the dentist clearly beckons.
Layers 1-3: digestive biscuit base with chocolate chips and butterscotch chips.
Layer 4: as above, with the addition of grated coconut.
Layer 5: as above, with the addition of chopped nuts.
Layer 6: as above, with the addition of a can of condensed milk. Okay, not a whole can -- I saved two tablespoons to eat and make toffee nut clusters with.
The whole sugary mass was then baked in the oven for 30 minutes, before emerging as a delectable brown, sticky, bubbling confection. I could feel my teeth rotting just by looking at it. Another trip to the dentist clearly beckons.
Autumnal trees in the Vondelpark
Time to dig out the gloves, hat, and scarf. My hands were numb at the end of the ride in to work.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Sir? Would you please stop doing that, sir?
A blessedly empty pool this morning, just me and another woman ploughing our lonely furrow up and down its length. In the jacuzzi area, however, was a middle-aged man indulging in the extremely high-powered waterfall fountain. He'd positioned himself so that the stream of water was falling right down the front of his swimming trunks onto a particularly sensitive spot -- for about 5 minutes. Lovely.
Of course, he could have been a top-flight footballer, hoping to speed up his recovery from a groin strain, but given his age and general paunchiness, it seems unlikely. Just another pervert at the pool.
Of course, he could have been a top-flight footballer, hoping to speed up his recovery from a groin strain, but given his age and general paunchiness, it seems unlikely. Just another pervert at the pool.
The road to hell (or Brighton) is paved with good intentions
Back on May 2, 2006, I posted a list of cities I wanted to visit this year as part of a series of mini-breaks. Aberdeen, Milan, Venice, Florence, Berlin, Oslo, and
Rekyjavik featured. So, where have I been since then?
Riga
Norwich
London
Cardiff
Brighton
Doncaster
Hmm, not as impressive as I'd hoped. Still, there's a chance we might make it to Madrid in November and the Cotswolds in December, so all is not yet lost.
Rekyjavik featured. So, where have I been since then?
Riga
Norwich
London
Cardiff
Brighton
Doncaster
Hmm, not as impressive as I'd hoped. Still, there's a chance we might make it to Madrid in November and the Cotswolds in December, so all is not yet lost.
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