Vanity Fair laments that London produces a much better class of sex scandal than Washington. (London meanwhile laments its political sex isn’t nearly in the class of that of Paris).
And Chris Ayres, briefly The Times’ reluctant war correspondent, muses that the arrival of David Beckham is going to destroy LA’s view of Brits as a classy group.
Having a rare attack of domesticity, I tried the gluten-free “healthy fruit cake” here, cutting the sugar down to a quarter of thre recommended since I find American tastes too sweet for mine. And the result isn’t at all bad, even though I mixed it by hand rather than in a processor…
Since I’ve had to give up gluten, I guess I’ll have to do this more, since most of the prepared gluten-free options aren’t great, and quickly get monotonous, or are ridiculously expensive.
No, I didn’t have my elbow on the keyboard – that apparently means in Inuit:
“I should try not to become an alcoholic”.
I don’t necessarily agree with this article, from which I learnt this, but it is a piece of info the like of which you don’t acquire every day.
But it doesn’t tell you how to pronounce the word…
For the first time in what feels like months, this afternoon there wasn’t an immediate pressing job that I had to do – plenty of things I should do, but nothing that should definitely have been done three hours ago.
So I allowed myself a wander up to Camden market, where, I found, you really can eat – and I suppose buy too, although I very quickly get bored with shopping – just about anything in the world.
But on a brisk winter evening it was the myriad of food stalls – the exotic, fragrant steam rising visibly from them – that really caught the eye, and the nose. There’s no greasy fish and chips here – indeed I didn’t see any chips at all – but a fascinating range of foods from around the world.
I (gluten-avoider that I sadly am now) tried a form of Venezualan fast food that I had never previously encountered (no I haven’t been to Venezuala) – the arepa – cornbread (a recipe here) – seriously yummy stuffed with cheese and shredded beef – so yummy I’ve even been looking into how you can buy the special flour required online. (Or does anyone know of a specialist Latin American grocer in central London?)
There were also Japanese rice balls cooked on what looked like an old-fashioned gem scone iron that I’ve never seen before – and Thai, Malaysia, varying forms of Indian, Ghanaian…
If ony you could transfer this out on to the high streets. Why can’t you, I wonder?
The great thing, you’d think, about sign language, is that it is universal. A smiley face is a smiley face; you don’t need words.
But you’d be wrong. 🙂
I was corresponding by IM with a friend in Korea and thereby learnt that a smile in Korean web-writing is ^^, and a frown ^-^.
Which reminds me of one time in eastern Syria when I was trying to get a taxidriver to take me to the train station. Phrasebook Arabic didn’t work, so I had a brainwave and signalling with a pulling down motion with my arm, as you’d operate a train whistle, and said “choo choo”. Smiles all around; he understood perfectly!
Shortly afterwards, we arrived at the church – complete with bells. I caught the bus in the end.
… I’ve caught the rather hideous cold that seems to be doing the rounds just now, and feel like I’m being regularly beaten around the head by a piece of four-be-two. (Things must be bad; I’m resorting to the language and imperial measurements of my childhood.)
I’m still hacking through my “to do” list, but at about quarter speed. If you are on it, I will get to you eventually…
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