Arsenal moment

The funeral for that unfortunate man that was axed to death by some bigoted thugs is to be held in Liverpool today. His family requested that, because their son was a big fan of football, that mourners wear football jerseys. Anthony Walker was a fan of Arsenal.

I checked Arsenal's website. Apparently they are a member of a anti-racist campaign. They have a community involvement site too. What they have not done, and I would fire the PR manager for this, is jump on board this opportunity to help the community by donating money for a scholarship in Anthony's name to be linked with the church he belonged to because he was a practicing as opposed to in name only Christian.

This story has been in the news significantly. It is not the first time I have heard that he was an Arsenal fan. And I usually tune out stories like this, especially if I hear the word football. It stuns me that a wealthy prominent team like Arsenal is so selfish and perhaps self obsessed that they wouldn't take this opportunity to reach out and communicate positive messages and reciprocal support for its fans. Historically, if i had been pushed to say I like a team, I would have said Arsenal. But i am so disappointed with its implied mightiness that I will never say so again. But I still would never be a fan of Chelsea, despite living in close proximity. Sheffield United it is.

bomb sniffy doggy

What a day. Did minimal work. not a good thing. Went to the salon for the bikini proof wax. Sent out my Dukes of Hazzard Fancy Dress Birthday Party invitations via email today though, so there is now no stopping the fun train. I also did some reconnaissance on the bar, Sosha, that I am going to tonight for a party with a couple of girlfriends. The weather is not conducive to sass, but it is conducive to drinking, so we will see what transpires. Or who transpires. No expectations though. If it is like every other night I have been out with my friends, then I will meet several interesting, attractive, witty men who will show keen interest in me as a person, with a couple of nice compliments thrown in only to be told they have girlfriends and that they are bemoaning the fact they "didn't meet me a few months ago". smile. turn head to show off good side, exit stage right. tralala. thanks for playing, next in line please!

I have been asked to provide a recipe book from my cake day (see prior post) and I started putting that together too.

I took a photo of a precious bomb sniffy doggy on my tube train this morning. I feel more safe with a cute dog on the snif then an appearing- to- be- overweight -and -under- cardio-d London transport police officer. bless them anyway.

Now, i am off to burn some calories in the gym to continue the fitness expectation for my upcoming hiking trip.

ciao ciao

Yuck i do not feel well today. My body, especially my backbone, aches from go kart racing in Kent last week. My throat hurts from this horrible cold i am getting, thanks to one of my friends. and my legs hurt from working out and the odd weather changes. Overall, percent chance of death feels like 77%. Usually percent chance of death comes into play in hangover situations. But it has been since last autumn since i have felt badly due to a viral infection. I forgot how bad it can make you feel, and the corresponding grumpa-mooses it imposes. I am trying to concentrate on the good things. The weather is beautiful, but not for long. I had a fun weekend. I am getting things accomplished when it comes to my Italy trip this Friday. I have been very anxious about packing correctly and the overall transportation issue.

I about to embark on my summer holiday. I have not been out of the country since July, which is an unusually long time for me to sit in London. Several reasons for this sedentary life, one being recently single and without the car and companion i heretofor had (we would whisk away often to countryside breaks), second being a more dynamic social life that did not leave me with weekends of nothingness to fill with a lastminute.com purchase, and last because the Italy trip is expensive and I needed to save, especially if i am going to purchase something from Prada and Cavalli without loads of guilt. Of course, i don't make enough to be guilt free, but my guilt of purchase should about equal my guilt if i did not purchase. that is the marginal utility point of credit card finance living.

At the end of my trip, I know i will feel relaxed and rejuvinated and happy. But preparing for it has been full of anxiety. It has three stages, all of which are a bit different and for different times. At one point i will be by myself travelling through the countryside. That wouldn't bother me here, but where i can't speak the language, and i know how chauvanistic italian men can be, so i am slightly concerned. Rome is first (my friend and I), which will be a typical city break. But then another friend (Italian lawyer) is taking us to Tuscany on Monday. Then my friend goes home and presumably my italian friend goes back to work, and then i have to somehow make my way north east to Bormio. Then my friend from the US and some of his mates from law school meet me in the mountains. This is phase two, the hiking phase. I don't have much hiking gear, so i had to slap the cards and buy some gear. I will have to wear a back pack with a days worth of gear on me. hike all day. And all but one night we go to little spa hotels in the evening.Sounds amazing, I will post pictures. But the packing for this has left me in knots. It is essential that i don't pack too much, nor too little. Layering is Key. But I also don't want to look like Napolean Dynomite in terms of oddness. A week from Saturday we will end in Venice. I have 3 days in Venice. This will be ending on the city break note. Venice, in our lovely boutique hotel, should be really nice. A needed non-exerting break from our 4 days of mountain hikinig. However, this is also much moving aboutfor a 12 day holiday. Hopefully despite the activity, it will be relaxing, fun, inspiring and healthy. I also hope to bring back some fun adventures in travel, or Stupid American Girls Guide to travel,-type stories.

Only a few days left. And so much packing to do...
However, my cold feels better now.
ciao ciao

Let us eat cake

EAch friday in my practice group at my law firm, we have a 4pm cake time whereby each lawyer has a turn providing "cakes" for the group. It was my turn today,and it was my first. I had always envisioned bringing sweets that are derived from regional Texas cooking, rather than going to M&S or Tesco and purchasing bunches of victoria sponge. i don't like victoria sponge anyway. and i don't really eat cakes because sugar and flour are not in my diet, but that is another story.

I planned this week out meticulously in terms of purchasing ingredients, determining which recipes of my mom were the most travel friendly, and in light of my social schedule which had me out tuesday through thursday. I did not get very much sleep the past few days. I made cookies at 11pm wednesday night!

As i was setting up my spread of pumpkin bread, ranger cookies, salsa and guacamole, red velvet cupcakes, all homemade, i realised that i was extremely nervous and had a high anxiety level. What if no one liked my sweets? what if they shunned differences instead of embraced them? what if my funny email introducing the sweets didn't strike the chord of humour with them? What if none were eaten? I would feel very rejected. I had my heart and some ego in those cookies and that guacamole, and i had underestimated how sensitive I was going to be.

I need not have worried. I got a million compliments and thank yous, written and oral. It was really sweet, and ended up making my day. Every one said not only how good everything was, but that is was refreshingly nice for someone to go to the trouble of making things from scratch, and different things that they were not used to as well. One person said, this is how salsa is supposed to taste isn't it. Everyone was appreciative of my time and energy, and impressed. I think the best thing was that they went passed their British reserve to tell me so. I think I am fitting in. It was a good friday.

I am confounded as to how Ms. Madonna could have broken collarbone and etc. and bruising when she fell off her horse. (I am also confounded as to why it should be reported as Breaking News on Sky as I sweated my caloric intake of the day away at the Holmes Place Fulham, but that is for later). Now, if you don't ride horses, then you think, miss golondon, how idiotic are you gravity, plus bones plus velocity equals hospital.

However, I ride, and have fallen a billion times. My mom rides, and she is almost 20 years older than Madge, and she doesn't break things (and me mum is fighting off osteoporosis). and my mom falls! she has fallen at least 2 times this year. My dad falls too, and I think he has cracked some shins and tailbones, but that is it. I have bruised some ribs [picture this, i am trying out a horse to buy, i am jumping a 3' jump, the horse refuses (my fault), so horse stays on front side of jump, i go flying off and over, to the other side, landing on my chest; every day thereafter i would get the hiccups, which is still recall as being more painful than the Brazilian i get].

The most recent fall I had (only because I rarely ride anymore) was in Ireland 1.5 years ago. I was there foxhunting with my family on an Irish hunt. The hunt was wicked, difficult, and gorgeous (NB no foxes were killed). I rode a very large and round mare. This is the opposite build of what I am used to, a skinny narrow gelding that I showed all my life (Sterling, the best horse ever in the world). The horse jumped very round, and it is very hard to keep one's balance. At one point, we come up to the ubiquitous Stone Wall, which we had to jump or climb (yes, some horses climbed the mo-fo, it was that big), but i knew my horse would jump it. I tried to come at it at an angle, so she would climb it, but no, over she POPPED. Up, Down, not much over. Thus off I POPPED too. (FN)

Now Madonna, here is where you need to read, you can forget the preamble, you would probably be bored because I am not a celebrity. Because I have fallen a billion times, I have (touch wood) perfected the art thereof. You prepare by kicking stirrups off, tense thighs to launch yourself out of harms way, and basically do it all with a spin so that you flip off, and land on your feet. BUT do not let go of reins. If horse is not trained properly, it will run off. Then you look at horse, give it a smile of confidence, limp to the side you mount, and re-mount. Give horse a pat to urge it to take care of you because you can barely breath and are very shakey.

So Madge, if reading, you need to learn how to fall. So do your children, for their safety's sake. Learning how to fall, from a horse or metaphysically, gracefully and poised for movement as soon as one lands, is a life lesson that we should treasure and aspire to. I definitely have learned the horse fall, and continue to receive life lessons on the latter. I offer a package of these lessons to you for £1500 an hour, minimum 10 hours, and you must supply the safety vests (the kind that horse trialers wear). Why were you not wearing one in the first place?

FN After the hunt we went to pub and drank with our fellow hunters, and one of the whipper ins, a ladies man he fancied himself, took to me, because the Irish are fantastic flirts, and I left with his number. all without Dad knowing I may add. My sister and I had a laugh. Because of time proximity, I would call this part of the falling process, and would grade it an A+.

Annoyances of the Week

Ins
Navy
French Food
Snogging on dance floor
Go Kart Racing
Victoria and Albert
Many romances
Outs
Grey
Brit Modern Food (say no to asparagus, it is out of season...)
Friends With Bens
Scootering
Tate Modern
Office romances

X Factor

Yesterday afternoon I met with a man that I had dated about 21/2 years ago. He and I went out long distance (Oz-US) for about 9 months. Unbenkownst to me, he still had his heart tied to his ex, and she started winding him up at which point he let go of our relationship. I must add that he did this without much communication, honesty or respect to myself.

Briefly, I had a friend of his staying at my flat, he was supposed to arrive in town and the three of us take his niece to a tour of US colleges. He came in town, i met him and his friends after work, he was hitting on another ex girlfriend and whenI walked up to the restaurant they were walking away, embracing. He wouldn't talk to me and explain to me what was going on; I left the venue, told him to call me to talk (and we were supposed to be leaving on our road trip in 2 days). I got a text 2 weeks later saying sorry.

That was about it, except for a couple of emails in which I asked for an explanation but did not get a honest or complete answer. Just the "you are a great girl, but" line. At least i was able to write to him "you can fuck me, but you can't fuck me over; I know you are not being honest with me".

Fast forward the dvd: I get an email that he is moving to London. In less than a week. Ironically, he is partly responsible for the move. My first trip here was to see him. We talked about moving here as a halfway between Dallas and Sydney. Our relationship ended, but my desire to move here did not.

So dear reader, although we had called a truce and been "friends" for the last several months, he always was trying to pull me (to the dark side). I refused. Honestly, I have no romantic desire of feeling for him. And let me tell you, trusting yourself on that point has to be one of the greatest confidence achievements. It gives one alot of strength.

Now that he was going to be in "my city", it seemed to me that we had to have a discussion of us; and importantly our fallout because we both had avoided the subject; painted it over with other colours, in a way. I would like him as a friend; I never want him as more than that. honesty was called for, and some honest discussion.

I was hanging back a bit when we met up because it took me awhile to bring it up. But I did, and I am very glad I did. I felt strong, and glad that I took the iniative to say what neither of us had discussed but had to be thinking. I also felt like it was me asserting who i was now, rather than letting vestiges of an old me, who was not good at confrontation or communication. The effect was positive too. Of course he began to act as if of course we could only be friends, and that had been his opinion to (this from the man that an hour earier, upon hearing of my single status, said "excellent"). And i was quite blunt about wanting him to know what the fallout of our breakup had been, how difficult it was, that the effect was to be stronger but to be completely devoid of and sentimentality when it came to thoughts about he and I. Again, I was quiet specific that I said yes to being friends, but I would not look kindly on him hitting on me at the end of an evening that we had been hanging out.

We hugged after the talk. Also interesting was that after saying just friends, i began talking about the break up and he tried to stop me and saying, its okay, we don't have to talk about that. I then looked at him and said, actually the point is that we do. Being strong, and being able to say what is in your heart, is one of the best feelings in the world. Chocolate and sex with someone you care about and trust is right up there too. Lucky for me, you can by the former at a grocers.

Stylin'

Have you ever noticed that people have different ways of interacting when they go out on the town? I am sure there are more categories, and mine are female specific, but using myself, my flatmate and my best mate as examples, there are 3 types. 1. The Diva, 2. the Girl Next Door, and 3. the Queen. My flatmate is 1, I am 2 and Kitty is 3. Let's start with me. It will be slightly inaccurate, because it is hard to describe oneself, but I rarely go talk to someone, look around, let them come to me, use the most of eye contact and body positioning, but will not have any patience for mingers or dullards. Sometimes they are not the same you know. It may sound shy, but I speak to many men and get asked to dance quiet a bit. I am not overly flirty, at first, until I have put some ground feelers on. I think there is a subconcious test i put men through before turning on the romantic charm. I think it is because I don't want the attention, unless I am sure I want it. Quality not quantity darling.

Now the Diva. The yin to my yang, the Diva will talk to anyone, provided drinks are paid for, move around a ton, leave men with drinks in their hands, dance around the dancefloor, talk to men as they walk around with another, and go up and literally grab a guy and throw him at you. It is fab. Respect in the house. Confidence with gusto. Spread the gusto on thick too. It is aggressive, but done with a smile, with a laugh, but most importantly without an agenda, and men don't take offence or get intimidated. They feel lucky.

Last (for now until I define more groups), the Queen. It is not so much about look at me and aggressive flirting, but about defined and controled attention. There is a little power trip. It has an agenda, but very hidden. If you are good. Divas and GNDs can mature into Queens. Queens cannot really be anything else but. They are keen on positioning, body language, verbal swordfights rife with sexual undertones. Like the GND, they are not willing to have their time wasted for the sake of attention. But like the Diva, there is an aggresiveness about getting what they want and when. They control the room more than any other. Queen and GND work well together too, its a very sophisticated combination. However, I think Queen gets annoyed some because the GNDs non-game and lack of control can seem too naive and invite time-wasting situations.

I notice that when in the presence of another GND, I tend to instantly grow Queen and Diva limbs and add that into mixture, making up for the lack of that. I will be more aggressive, and be more concious of room control. however, i must admit that as i spiral into drunken oblivion, i go into sloppy mode which is a horrible mixture of all three, resembling a frankentstein of style, guaranteed to get one into trouble. Or maybe it is like the Sex and the City Effect, where no one woman is like any one of the chics, but a mixture of all!

Seven wonders

I receently discovered what appears to be a positive side to marriage.
Apparently once the luv life is sorted, one has time to take on extra-work activities like dancing, piano, guitar, tap, painting, russian, soduku, etc. all my married friends are using their extra time enriching their creative side (no one is taking economics for dummies or in a richard and judy investment securities club). They are not doing this as a couple though, although I suspect some of my friend into art are doing some real life nudes at home. good on them. I love the thought, and have taken some art classes before. And gym classes don't count.
but as a sassy singleton, and one who is still forming friendships in this city, i don't use my time doing things like that. in my experience, you don't meet people that way, friend or lover. because mostly it is married people. if i have spare time in the evening, it is either used to further friendships, tangentially be out to meet possible mr. go londons ( or the future ex mr go london), or lets face it the fantasy cabana boy, or a Real Life Date, or at the gym perfecting calorie burn. so that i can go back on the carousel of eating and drinking out.
so, when i get married, i am taking tai chi and painting. someday. hopefully not too soon, because going out is brill.

Cutting Edge

I have noticed a burgeoning trend in the London dining scene that is very exciting to me. This trend begins to fill a gap that is begging to be filled, although the gap is quite wide. The opening of smaller restaurants that are owned and run by primarily the often young chef is something that I hope continues to accelerate. I was at Wizzy last weekend and had a great experience. The food, ambiance, the care that went into the whole experience made it a holistic, fun experience. And when the bill came, I did not go into debt. The London dining scene seems very class based. There is the upper class (fine dining) and the lower class (chains or all day brekkie cafes). There isn't much of the in-between. Please don't argue that Conran type restaurants fill this gap. I have been to several, and they are mismanaged, with inconsistent but poor food quality. Does anyone from the Conran family even go to their restaurants for pop quizzes? They should, they wouldn't be too proud.

London needs restaurants that are small, innovative in terms of menu, contain a sense of ambiance and style, and are run as if they are someone's love child because then that care comes across to you as a diner and you get a better experience.

Wizzy and Glas are two restaurants that fit in this category. NYC has multiple restaurants in this category. It is what makes the dining scene so vibrant. The London scene is not vibrant. It is black and white. Either you go to people watch or you can search for a while and find a place to eat really good food. Trendy buzzy restaurants are rarely so because they have good food. I am not saying Nobu is not excellent. But there should be 8 other restaurants with price poins several notches down that are similar but flexible in what they offer in terms of menu and ambiance.

Lastly, I don't think you can over estimate the power of thinking the experience through so that on many levels you enjoy your meal. Music, lighting, greenery, the tablewear and the seating arrangements, all conspire to make an ambiance. I really become uncomfortable in restaurants with bad acoustics. I don't want to eat and yell. Although, that is really just my fear of spitting food in someone's face accidentally, a fear well founded because i am a particularly ungraceful girl.

Fashionista Victim

Not a big fan of protests. Too many people of dubious self-grooming education mashed up against each other, exuding anger. (fn1 i also do not like music festivals for this reason) Not my bag baby. Yet as an empirical concept, I view protest as a positive, cataylistic measure that is necessary for a modern enlightened society. In my opinion, individual protest is far more sophisticated. And challenging. The man that protests against male discrimination in family court by climbing a bridge, may not fall into the noble category, but that man rises in my esteem. In contrast, the countryside alliance team protest, fell by a large margin when they decided to storm buildings and get arrested in protest of the hunting ban. (fn2 I am pro CA and donated to their cause at Badminton this year) They should have remembered their manners better.

My personal protest this week has taken on medium of fashion. It may be rainy. It may be cold and the chilly wind switches directions on us every hour. First from the East, bring Scandinavian mist against my now huge unruly hair that cant decide if it wants to be straight or curly thus is a nice combination of the two, looking like that barbie doll from circa 1980, and has been stuffed in a box since then. Oops i digress on the hair using a horrid run on. 'pologies.

Second from the North. I take the north wind with a grain of salt and some humour, seeing as it is fringe festival time. My protest takes its form in wearing clothes that still smell and look of summer. Bright colours. Skirts, mules, sleeveless shirts and singlets. Lots of arm and legs although i have been having to exfoliate each day due to my tan sloughing off. Yes, i am a bit chilly during the day. But more the excuse to go get coffee and binge on caffeine this week. Also, during the last two years of living here, i have been learning the art of the outer layer, and the trench/jacket/cardi layering has been assisting me in getting to my location in comfort.

In May i refused to continue to wear long boots. Now, I will refuse to wear wintry clothes until September. Oh the burdens I bear.

London Fog

the blues. Doldrums. the downs. whatever name you want to call it, i wonder why it happens. As a female, I want to push part of the blame onto hormones. And how does the weather fit into it? I think pretty well. To go from warm and sunny to cooler and terribly rainy is a crash course in expectations. I know of few people who are not coping with this. For me, I feel that i am living my life, and i am also watching it. There is a disconnect about it all, beginning with the way i should feel and ending with how i do. Reality seems to be made of watercolours. Did i really spend time with that person last night? Did we really talk hours upon hours? and did i just commute from the city to west London without a single thought that i can remember? i also find thought lines interrupted as if by a sun spot. blip!

I need to find the tool to bring the two together. will it be a bridge, a catalyst, a companion, a step?
we must go forward to see.

National Associative Society of Absolutemorons

NASA will send an astronaut on an unprecedented (read: should not have had to happen) in-flight shuttle repair mission (read: death wish) to remove two protruding gap fillers (read: major body damage) that could cause uneven heating during re-entry (read: they are screwed, start praying now, i hope they have some valium). Steve Robinson (read: got the short stick) will spacewalk underneath Discovery to carry out the repairs -- a risky (read: probablility of death 99.9%) maneuver that could also potentially cause damage to the craft, NASA said.

Going to hell for the sense of humour, but hello, why America are you sending intelligent scientist sto their death time and time again! Oops they did it again! It smacks of global hegemonising egomonstrosity, and because it is nationstate ego driven, each time they (NASA/the US) fail they feel they have to do it again so that they do not lose face. But they look idiotic and it has a negative implication on the emotions of the US populus and it shows that when it comes to US ego versus humanity, the latter will always be sacrificed, whether it is in Florida, or an Asian based heavily oil producing country.

I believe in God, and an afterlife (although I would not call it that) and I pray for a miracle for the astraunats, and for their families at this time.

And one last thing, it is about time that NASA pass along all its information on life on Mars, the real story, and the alian lifeforms it knows about. The conspiracy is v. trite.