Last of the Summer Wine?

It’s a rainy Sunday here at Gidday HQ.


I can hear the occasional car swish by on the wet street outside and this morning my feet slipped easily into my fleecy purple slippers, my toes sighing in toasty relief.

There are no shouts from next door’s football-playing children today, confined to indoor pursuits by the inclement weather. 

And earlier this week, I bemoaned my lack of an ‘extra layer’ as I stood on the platform at West Hampstead station and felt the chill in the air through my jacket.

Autumn has arrived in earnest this week with its chill-blue skies and brisk damp air.

But this year, it has crept up on us all.

The trees have not heralded Autumn’s arrival with their usual fiery display of foilage, confused (it has been said) by the ‘poor summer’ and an on-again-off-again burst of warm sunshine around the August Bank Holiday weekend. 

Last of the Summer wine?

It has tiptoed quietly in, behind darker mornings and shorter evenings, allowing us to stick our proverbial heads in the sand and pretend.

But in the dark of each workday morning this week, I have found myself automatically reaching for my ‘cosier’ dressing gown, where it has hung patiently all Summer, behind the bedroom door.

And after Monday’s invigorating reminder, my Autumnal work coat was brushed down, readied to commence its Fall 2012 season on Tuesday. And I wore tights to work.

Most years, we accept the transition from English Summer to Autumn’s embrace with a little moaning and a stiff upper lip. (After all, how else can one start a conversation with a Brit if one is not up on the mildly depressing vagaries of the weather?)

But if you listen closely, there is still a hopeful whisper of an Indian Summer, another burst of sunshine and warmth before the nights close in and mornings become crunchy with frost for good. 

So in spite of the Autumn chill, I shall leave a few lighter items in the corner of my wardrobe, still within reach yet just outside the more immediate array of cardies, polo necks and mid-season jackets that I suspect will be needed in the coming weeks.

And socks. Yes, I think socks will become a constant at Gidday HQ from now on as well.


New Tesco socks – ready to go


So could someone please explain to me why I spent an hour yesterday painting my toe-nails?

Your 2012 Five A Day…September

This month’s Five A Day pickled offer from Violent Veg seems more than a little apt given my August of foodie frolicking and wet whistling.

The month started off not so well with the only thing pickled being me as I fought the last vestiges of chickenpox with solitary cake consumption. But things picked up and soon I was off to Barcelona for a little city break with Seattle-A. A social month followed with several long overdue catchups (over drinks naturally), a sojourn at the opera, a Turkish feast (complete with some compulsory participation in the national sport of belly-dancing) and finishing with a little social DIY: painting the town multicultural and then an audit to reinforce the foundations of friendship.

So what multicultural pickling opportunities could possibly be left as we head into Autumn?

Krakow
As you read this I will be enjoying a short break in Krakow. It is higly likely that amid the history and splendor of this medieval town, I am finding a few opportunities to sample a  local beverage or two. Stay tuned for more about my exploits soon.

Seattle
This week I will be enjoying a final London fling with Seattle-A before she and hubster jet off to pastures new. And I’ll be booking my first trip to the city of Starbucks – although I expect I’ll be looking for beverages of a different kind.

France
I’ll be hearing the people sing again on a figurative visit to France as this month I have booked to see Les Miserables. I saw it for the first time when I was 17 and it remains one of my favourite musicals. There might be a tipple or two at intermission.

Fashion
So we move away from potential travels to culture of a different kind: fashion. Ballgowns to be exact. The V&A has an exhibition running, British Glamour since 1950, which features ballgowns and evening dresses galore. And what goes better with posh frocks than a spot of champers?

So that’s my pickling month planned peeps…what are you up to?

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Five A Day Back catalogue

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Going global

Here we are at the last bank holiday in the UK before Christmas and I am ensconced at Gidday HQ catching up on a whole lot of the must dos after a few days of fun to-dos (and not a small amount of alcohol). The washing machine is whirring in the background, the ironing pile is lurking within eye-shot – which I must address one way or the other (i.e. iron or put away in the cupboard) – the UKHot40 is playing on the telly and my water bottle is within reach.

So let’s start with Saturday: a day of short sunny bursts and bouts of torrential rain under a largely grey sky. And an evening of cocktails and mighty fine cuisine as four work friends painted the heart of London’s Soho multicultural – at a Peruvian restaurant. This is what happens when a Turk, a German, a Frenchwoman and an Aussie, all obsessed with food, get their heads together for a girl’s night out.

After a flurry of emails late on Saturday afternoon, a plan was hatched and a few hours later, four happy expat ladies were sitting at the bar in Ceviche, watching the intermittent drizzle against the window with cocktails in hand. Ceviche is new to the London restaurant scene, having only opened in February this year, and has had some terrific reviews (including one by yours truly over on Weekend Notes after our super Saturday soiree). I won’t repeat here what you’ll find elsewhere – suffice to say we left four very happy ladies. And it wasn’t just the cocktails.

Sunday morning dawned and after a kick-start of croissants, coffee and copious amounts of water – how is it that so much drinking can be so dehydrating – I was off again, this time to the Edinboro’ Castle in Camden for a farewell do.

You see, in just under two weeks time, A-used-to-be-down-the-hill will become Seattle-A. Yes, she and hubster are moving state-side to the land of the free, the home of the brave and city of highest rate of sunglasses purchases per capita in the US. They’ve bought a fabulous new pad, booked the movers and are starting their own round robin of goodbyes to old London town.

And yesterday, under the canopy of trees in the sun-dappled beer garden at the Edinboro’ Castle, was a gathering of their wonderful circle of friends. Almost ten hours of repartee and reminiscing, of howls of laughter and a little just-between-friends political incorrectness, of re-connecting and fond farewells, to wish them well in this next exciting chapter…and to book our respective berths at Palazzo Seattle.

So this weekend has been a poignant reminder of the power of my expat friendships, both old and new, and the importance of trusting my instincts in reaching out amongst the myriad of connections I make each day, week, month, year.

Saturday night heralded the start of a ‘four girls from four nations’ friendship.

And while my own personal farewell with A is still to come, Sunday was a celebration of a friendship that began just two weeks into my expat journey. That’s more than eight years of life in the UK together. Opening the pages of this next chapter in our friendship has me feeling a little sad, but excited about the possibilities that will follow for both of us.

You see we, my friends, are going global.

Lemmon Drops…

I have only recently become acquainted with the work of Jack Lemmon. Oh I’d heard about some of his movies like The Odd Couple and Grumpy Old Men but I’d never seen them. (My association with The Odd Couple being the 1970s TV series starring Jack Klugman and Tony Randall.)

My first viewing was The Apartment at a gorgeous art deco cinema, The Rex in Berkhamsted. Similar to my beloved local, The Phoenix, the grandeur of the auditorium fitted the same sense of occasion as when movies began by telling you right up front who was in it and what it was called. But I digress.

The Apartment stars Lemmon with youthful Shirley MacLaine. Lemmon is the employee put-upon by the powers that be at work in return for a boost up the corporate ladder. Things get complex when MacLaine becomes an ‘apartment’ girl and falls off the pedestal that Lemmon has adoringly placed her on. It turns out in the end but not before some pretty grim soul-searching.

In mentioning my lack of Lemmon to my movie friend, she immediately loaned me Some Like It Hot, starring Lemmon alongside Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe. This is a lighter affair, full of naughtiness and high jinx and Lemmon’s turn as Daphne gets him into all sorts of trouble. It all works out at the end again (as most Marilyn Monroe movies do).

By then I’d found myself completely under Lemmon’s spell. You see I’d become rather partial to that cheeky grin, the twinkling eyes, the earnestness. Although he does look a little too good as a woman for my liking! There’s obviously a few more movies to see and I’m wondering whether Lemmon was always cast as the hapless but endearing charmer. I guess I will have to find out.

Not that I’m complaining.

Lemmon may just have become my new favourite flavour.

And you can never have too much of a good thing.

Your 2012 Five A Day…August

Well, the 1st August heralds the end of year number 42 for yours truly. No more counting down, no more sleeps to go. It has arrived so first up, it’s a Happy Birthday to me!

There’s much else to celebrate in August. The Olympics have begun in earnest and I’ve been cheering on the green and gold. The Opening Ceremony was quirkily British and aside from that inordinately weird section with all the beds, I loved watching it. And what a tribute to future sporting generations that torch lighting ceremony was – absolutely brilliant. I may have even welled up a little.

Back at Gidday HQ, I’m still quarantined and starting to go a little stir crazy – although at least I’m sleeping through the night now and my appetite has returned a little despite the aches, pains and general unattractiveness of my affliction.

And last but certainly not least, this month’s Violent Veg introduces us to Brian, of the Parsnip variety. After Colin Carrot’s heart-thumping exploits in June and July (you can see the Violent Veg Back Catalogue at the end of this post), Brian reminds us to enjoy some gentler pursuits this Summer…

But quite frankly this is now Day 7 of *tranquility* so even with the promise of a little tackle-nibbling, I think there’ll be no such standing still for me.
Here’s to throwing oneself in the deep end this August.
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Five A Day Back catalogue

2 Sleeps To Go…Life’s Spanner

Today it’s Monday. July 30th. That’s 2 sleeps to go.

2 sleeps before the day of moi on August 1st.

And life, in its own inevitable manner, has thrown a spanner in the works.

You see, I have been quarantined since last Thursday with chickenpox.

I mean really. Chickenpox for goodness sake! Surely that’s for children? That mysterious illness that mothers in my acquaintance are charged with managing in their various little ones.  And then see fit to regale all in proximity about its trials and tribulations thereby forcing me to maintain my sympathetic and concerned face for longer than 5 minutes.

(I would like to point out here that I can do sympathetic and concerned but sustained effort in this area is not my forte. As my friends know, I can be brutal with my ‘suck it up princess’ philosophy of deaing with life’s hard knocks.)

And yet here I am, forced to keep my own company, no-one to soothe my fevered brow while this virulent virus makes its way through the various stages of its frolic around my immune system. Snap!

This was not my plan. I had imagined quite a carefree week to finish my 42nd year on the planet. Filled with laughter, amusing repartee and kindly reminders of sleeps to go and shopping days remaining for you all. 

But the spanner arrived. So I have focused on doing the right things and riding this sucker out in the hopes of being fit for company (read work) again come my big day. I mean I have birthday yummies to share and the alternatives sans company are either gluttony or waste. And while I am of the school of ‘waste not want not’ (or as my mother called it ‘ the starving children in Africa’ who can quite frankly have ALL of my peas and brussel sprouts), a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips is definitely no fairytale.

2 sleeps to go peeps. Time for someone else to have the spanner.

Summery Sundays…

It’s Sunday.

A lazy, mooch-about with A-used-to-be-down-the-hill Sunday.

And it’s a gloriously sunny Sunday here at Gidday HQ.

Yes, you heard read right.

The sky is brilliantly blue, the sun’s rays fierce in their determination to make up for lost (British Summer) time.

And there have been a couple of squatters on the back patio for the second time in as many weekends.

We even had to put the umbrella up to protect our delicate Australian  hangovers skin!

Don’t look now but it might be summer at last!

Shhhhh….wouldn’t want to scare it away again…

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ps…and there’s only 10 sleeps to go ’til the big day peeps. That’s right – only 10. You can count down using only your fingers now…

Speechless

In the midst of preparations for last weekend’s Gidday Soiree, I took a break and went to Sadlers Wells to see Matthew Bourne’s Play Without Words. This was both my first Bourne and even more remarkably, given my love of dance, my first visit to Sadlers Wells. And apart from it being another bonza deal unearthed during my daily travels, Sadlers Wells is an easy commute down the Northern Line from Gidday HQ so I suspect that this cultural pocket of London will feature amongst my erstwhile ramblings a little more often.

Anyhow, Play Without Words is set in London in the early Sixties and is based on Robin Maugham‘s novel, The Servant. The action starts as we see leading man, Anthony (all 3 of them) sign the lease on a swanky new pad. He hires manservant Prentice (3 of them), a maid Sheila (only 2 of these), meets up with an old friend and then hosts a party with his glacial financee Glenda (yes, 3 of these too) by his side.

Image sourced from http://www.sadlerswells.com

The trios and duos interweave to show the same character captured in three different moments in time, adding power and depth to the wordless storytelling.  There’s friction and frostiness as the relationship between Anthony and Glenda disintegrates. There’s wit and clever visual repartee as Prentice and Sheila insinuate themselves into the household. And there’s sizzle and sexual tension and lust and betrayal – and I LOVED IT!

But more than anything, it’s Bourne’s visionary eye that makes this a seamless and sensual masterpiece. I was entertained, uplifted, moved and thrilled…and determined I’d be back for more.

So as I left, I picked up the program for the rest of the year and amongst the turned-down page corners, you’ll find the San Francisco Ballet, the Rambert Dance Company, Paco Pena and…yes you guessed it, Matthew Bourne and his world premiere of Sleeping Beauty.

It might be baked beans on toast for a while should I let myself indulge in this passion.

Now where is my debit card?


If you are in London between now and August 5th, make sure you get along and see Play Without Words. I kid you not – it’s absolutely brilliant! And I even got an Editor’s Choice for my review on Weekend Notes.

ps…if you’ve been under a rock ignoring me not reading my posts all the way to the end, Birthday Number 43 is fast approaching. You are down to only 13 shopping days peeps so let’s make that a lucky 13 shall we? Don’t let a little superstition get in the way of celebrating…well…me.

 

Gidday Soiree…A Hat Trick Of Birthdays

The inaugural Gidday soiree is done. My guests have left replete with good food, an indiscriminate amount of wine and feisty yet flowing conversation.

Le outdoor setting (or patio furniture as my American compatriate at work calls it) did me proud and the skies, while not exactly blue and sunshine-y, kept to themselves with not a drop of rain falling. That’s a minor miracle in itself given the past few weeks.

(Although as I woke this morning after yesterday’s intermittent and torrential rain, I do believe I closed my eyes and whispered ‘oh please just let it be dry!’ Maybe someone was listening.)

It has inspired me to do more of this. I have to say that I rather enjoyed having visitors to fuss over, deliberating over the menu during the week prior to strike the balance of both the ‘right’ quantity and trying out some new things.

(There was a chilli, cheese and corn loaf and some savoury rolls – basically a soft cheese mixture and some other ingredients wrapped in pita bread, chilled overnight and sliced – which were both newcomers to the party.)

It was also an opportunity to use my ‘stuff’. You know the stuff I mean. You have some of this yourself. For me it was my Oma’s crockery, my Mum’s tea set (for the coffee) and, being a cup short, even a lone Royal Doulton cup and saucer for the fifth of our party.

Having the room at the new Gidday HQ for all of this to have been unpacked from the boxes that were their home for 6 and a half years is absolutely brilliant. Now it’s all just an arms reach away on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard.

I’m extremely proud to say that the only thing not Gidday-Made was the chocolate cake, collected from the local Polish store round the corner this morning, to celebrate our three birthdays.

Which brings me neatly to a reminder that there are only 17 sleeps to go until my big day. Celebrations may have started today at Gidday HQ but this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook peeps.

Not by a long shot!

The Spirit of the Games…

There’s the small shindig happening in London later this month. It’s happened a couple of times before. A gathering of sporty types who’ll bring their best, enter the arena and fight for the gold in front of a global audience. Dashin’ and prancin’…
…the Olympic Games are comin’ to town.
And the Olympic flame, that which symbolises the spirit of The Games, has been wending its way to London through rain and shine (but mostly rain) to inspire the people of England.
On Sunday afternoon, a few folk gathered along Hatfield Road in St Albans to eat, drink and wave a flag or two. The vibe on the street was dry (surprisingly enough) and humming with excitement and anticipation…

All of a sudden, the convoy had arrived and with it, the flame…

…and before too long, it was on its way again, safe in the hands of Huddersfield Supply Chain Manager, Glyn Carter.

Just as well we snaffled a sneaky snap while Glyn was waiting his turn…

…to show we were really there!

Only 17 days to go peeps. Are you ready for the Games of the XXX Olympiad?

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This post is part of July 2012’s Post of the Month Club