Photojournalism Nom Nom Style...

The weird new implement bought by Spark for potcleaning.


My little fiery amigo, Mr McIlhenny


Biting cutlery, as you do.


Relaxing post meal with my straight-stem.


Where's my Pulitzer, bitch?


Oh yeah, under my belly...


I'll work it off in the morning.

Payday with the Lovebugs

Pay day, the singlemost appealing couplet in the Western world.

Huzzah.

Work is interesting at the moment; I've been recommending some friends for jobs and have been sent out on errands across London. Although this DID lead to a situation yesterday where I had had a four hour round-trip to Romford in Essex and after walking three miles showed up soaked to the skin at the client's headquarters. That was......fun.

As I've been recently promoted (yahoo!) I have to work a bit more, but I've discovered that the earlier rise is actually pretty cool. The Tube is much less busy, for one. I can walk from my door to the Tube and get a seat within 5 minutes, and withing 40 I'm at my desk; all accompanied by my awesome iPod shuffle playlist, which was totally worth a beating to protect. I sat today, slightly dazed after a great sleep (with weird dreams) listening to a bizarre mixture of Patsy Cline, Rachmaninov, Kate Bush, The Rolling Stones and And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead.

I've been reading a bit more recently too. I finished 'Cat's Cradle' by Kurt Vonnegut yesterday, and found it one of the best books I've read in years. It's a terrifying, hilarious, heart-breaking, poignant and most importantly, incredibly intelligent; dealing with the Arms Race, the misapplication of science, religion, lies and writing. Vonnegut has quickly become one of my all time Bad-Ass favourites and I can't wait to read the rest of his stuff. He's my sort of writer; ballsy, interesting and with an imagination that could light a sun. Excellent stuff, and with such a cool life.


So I felt really good about pay day today. Money isn't everything, I'll be quite adamant about that, but holy fucking mackerel it's nice to be able to buy stuff.


After work today there was a pool-pah of a commute home, and I had to meet Spark, my flatmate (and a recently engaged young groom-to-be) to get a suit fitted. I think it looks okay, it's a charcoal-grey three-piece and it's really comfortable.



What do you think? Yay or Nay?


Then, afterwards, Spark (Jude, the fiancée) and I decided to eat in town, and went and had a lovely meal. It was one of those great unplanned evenings that happen now and then where we were all much too tired (and happy to have an impromptu night out) to want to go home and cook, and instead had a great cheap meal, a bottle of good wine, and some kick-ass potent coffee. It's maybe the best espresso in London that I've had yet. It's short, extremely intense, and although bitter, has a nice aftertaste. It was a great meal, and a steal at £20 a head for a two-course with wine.



Spark and Jude. Awwwww



Then walking back to Bond Street to get the Jubilee Line, it was cool to see London at night. I see it all the time, but every so often you realise just how alive and interesting the place was. I think we're going to have more of these sorts of nights (even if I'm a MASSIVE bell-end third wheel for the Lovebugs) and hang out a bit more. The two of them make a perfect couple, and I kinda like being their rough-edge inappropriate friend, and it's cool to hang out with them, even if only to dispel my never-ending cynicism at the world. They're remarkably refreshing.

So, if you're a bit jaded, make friends with an engaged couple. And go for a walk in the City at night. And maybe go out to dinner once in a while. Oh, and try the espresso!


x

Voice Work and the pleasure of one's own company.

The weekend! Huzzah!

End-of-days tiredness aside, this week has been pretty good.

I got promoted at work, which was cool. I'm now a Technical Delivery Consultant for the office stud (read: highest earner), Mack Daddy. MD's actually a really cool bloke, and is the old man (at 40) of the office, so he's a really laid-back guy and is helping me out. My new job is basically resourcing, and I spend most of my time either surfing the web on jobs boards (like Monster or Total Jobs) for candidates in the public sector. MD deals with social housing and social renovation, so the projects are sort of interesting, and vaguely in the 'I don't feel bad about my job cos people are getting jobs and building homes for people with no jobs' job spectrum of jobs. Jobs. Jobs. Steve Jobs.


Also there's a wee bit more money, which will help me buy heroin, and keep the struggling Drug-counsellor-and-methadone-manufacturer Sector afloat.

That's right, I'm saving the economy. Steve Jobs.


I also did some weekend work! Some videogame company had me in doing a bit of voicework (for v/activated software, not an acting role unfortch) so it was nice to be doing some of that without it being in the fuggy realm of soft-core audio erotica. Had breakfast at Borough Market in Southwark (near work) and then went home to spend the rest of the day writing.


So two wee anecdote-ettes about yesterday.
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1) I met a friend of mine in the Market, she's from back home and is training to be an opera singer. She's extremely pretty. Anyway, I was walking along, eating little free samples of everything from ostrich meat to passion fruit muesli, when I passed her in the queue.

Me: "Hi _____"

She: "Hi, Con, what are you doing here?


She: (looking around behind me) "Are you here on your own"

Me: 'Yup, I just came down for a spot of breakfast"

She: (unsure) "Oh...cool"

And soon after went on my way.

My question, is it weird that I like to spend a lot of time on my own? I mean, I go to the pub on my own occasionally, and like to eat at restaurants on my own with a book when I can, but is that one step away from complete loner-dom, or is it natural. What do you guys think?


2) I went in one of my favourite coffee shops, Best Italian, beside the market, because I'm secretly in love with the waitress there. She's French, and of course when I found that out, I spoke French, and made an idiot of myself. I went there with the Polish girl from my office (the Tank Commander one who taken on a big-sister role) and she almost frog-marched me up to the counter to ask the girl out when she saw me looking at her. I didn't go up, and somehow managed to stop her going up too, but when I went back in yesterday and saw her again, I wasn't sure at all, for some reason the entire vibe or athmosphere or whatever of the place and seeing her didn't lend itself to the pervy droolery of the day before. How variable is the old visual attraction these days? Wow. Obviously she's a stone-cold fox and out of my league anyway, so it just became a scientific observation, but it's interesting how a tiny set of variables can affect something like attraction.


ANYWAY:

My lil broheim is over a-visiting with his pixie girlf Beccy, so I've been showing them some of the sites (pubs) in WHamp and Kilburn. It's really good to see him, even if he is the annoyingly good-looking one and much much cooler than his older dearthair (he's studying to become a music producer and sound technician) it's nice to catch up. The three of us got absolutely shitfaced last night, then had a vid-chat convo with my girl Lopez. Good times.


I'm going to write a separate post about Valentines Day now, because I feel like ranting a bit.

Stay classy.

Hospitality

Since Friday I've been staying with my grandmother, the English one. Before this summer I hadn't seen her in about six years, thanks to my galavanting around Ireland and the US, so it's nice to have the chance to catch up with her in her dust-free, granny-pad, drinking pots of tea and talking about all the weird ad whacky things on tv.

The weekend has been lovely; the sun is shining, my bed is unbelievably comfortable and I've even managed to hijack the wireless from the people next door, so I can write on my blog. The house is such a grandma house; as I type, there are little porcelain statuettes and collector plates staring at me from the mantelpiece while china dogs look dolefully out across the photo populated/tea-collection-storing cabinet set and the abundance of cushions and sofas that litter the living room. There are spindly little tables that don't seem to have a purpose, and a gargantuan tv with approximately seven billion channels.

This all sounds ideal, right? But there is a problem, I am on death's door.

The reason? My grandmother likes to feed me.

That's a good thing, I know. I'm also aware that it's a little bit silly to be complaining about being fed, but the sheer amount of food is awe inspiring.

It's a bit of a joke that I don't eat or sleep that much, and that I'm a bit pale and skinny. Now I'm staying in the 'land of perpetual sun' for a short time, I'm red and skinny. Enter the grandmother. If there's a lull in the conversation, or if the tv goes to commercials, inevitably the question will come, "do you want something to eat?".

Usually I try to say no as politely as possible, but today I thought I'd be a bit daring and call her bluff. So whenever any food was offered I accepted, like a culinary 'Yes Man'. Big mistake.

Between 2 and 9pm I had the following
1 - Bacon sandwich and tea.
2 - Another bacon sandwich and tea.
3 - Cheese roll with bottle of beer.
4 - Cup of tea and scone (and some biscuits)
4 - Several bottles of beer.
5 - Steak and Kidney Pie, with peas, roast potatoes, carrots, cauliflowers, gravy and bread.
6 - Bread and butter and tea.
7 - Several more bottles of beer.


Now, I'm absolutely stuffed to the gills. I feel like my weird innie/outie bellybutton is going to turn into an outie. As I sit hear watching 'Doc Martin' on television, I'm getting foodsweats and my feet are numb. That is scary, but I'm still drinking the beer.

My gran just offered me some pilchards on toast, I'm fucked.

After-Tea Confection Journal - The French Fancy

Okay, so in my 20-something bloggers profile I brag somewhat about having an 'increasing knowledge of after-tea cakes'. This is something which I stick by, a side-effect of my many pleasant Sunday afternoons in Trinity College Dublin.

I had a bit of a routine for Sundays:
1) Wake up, with a bit of a hangover
2) Watch films/ Play about online/ Read (but NOTHING to do with law stuff)
3) Go for a bit of a walk around the beautiful Trinity campus, maybe doing a bit of shopping or any chores or whatnot,
4) Go get some food, either going out for a subway (chicken and bacon ranch, grilled with cheese, with jalapenos, black peppers, green peppers and gherkins and honey mustard sauce) OR bu a massive pizza from Apaches
5) Nip to the shop to buy the newspaper (the Observer/Guardian, how I heart thee) and, of course, some tea cakes.
6) Go visit my mate Spark for a cup of tea and a chinwag.


Now, in the course of these Sundays, I happened upon manies a variance of post-tea confection, and in the course of these entries into the Afer-Tea Confection Journal (hereinafter 'the ATCJ')I shall attempt to critique the many tea-cakes, fruit slices, cookies, biscuits (NOT the American imposter that is actually a scone, but the proper British/Irish biscuit) and the myriad other species of sweet jollity that so stoutly accompanies a heart-warming cuppa.

[NB: The term After-Tea is somewhat misleading, but let it be known that the 'tea' in question is the evening meal, and the other 'tea' that is mention is the fabled drink. So an after-tea confection is indeed consumed with a cup of tea.]


The French Fancy.


The French Fancy is a delightful little cake-ette, small enough to be eaten in a quick gulp and tasty enough that an entire box is often in most ghastly peril of being wholly devoured ere the teapot run dry.

Yes, for some reason i am talking like a old timey gentleman.


The Tech Stuff

A small cube of moist sponge, with a little mound of vanilla cream on top, all encased in one of three types of icing laminate (lemon, chocolate or strawberry) and crowned with a streak of chocolate drizzle. Individually wrapped, they come in packs of 8 and can be easily shared amongst a small group of conversationalists. At between £1.50 and £2.50 a box, it's a within a smidgen above the acceptable confectionary range.

An invention of the wonderful Mr Kipling, these cubes of tasteliness are described as 'delightful fondant iced sponge cakes with a vanilla flavoured filling.' One might think this to be a rather grandiose boast, but it's evident that Mr Kipling is not big-upping his skills. For they are delectable.

In terms of after-tea cake they are almost perfect. The combination of tangy icing, moist sponge, smooth vanilla and chocolate drizzle is ridiculously tasty, and as I've said above, due to the rather small nature of the cakes and its horrendous edibility, it's almost impossible to eat just one.

So, if I am to pick a random number out of which to score these cakes I must ask myself the 'Fundamental Ideals of Cakemanship'. A YES gives 1 point, a 1/2 gives...well, you get it.
1) - Is the confection easy to slice/share/prepare, thus enabling hassle-free cakemanship? YES
2) - Is the confection comfortably within the realms of the sweetness spectrum? YES
3) - Is the confection of affordable price in comparison to the amount of joy it brings? 1/2
4) - Is the confection sufficiently moreish? YES
5) - Is the confection sold in a way which allows for ample portion? NO
6) - Does the confection contain a subtle yet delicious blend of flavours? YES!!
7) - Does the confection taste well with a cup of tea? YES
8) - Does the confection make me feel like an old lady? YES

Therefore, it is with great joy and much diabetic rumblings of my post-teacake belly, keeping in mind the delicious taste, the addictive nature of it, it's tea-friendly nature and, unfortunately, the small portions, it is my great honour to award the Kipling French Fancy


6.5 / 8

Mazel tof, Mr Kipling. Jolly good show.


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How to eat a Mr Kipling French Fancy:



1) Look at your prospective Confection with a mixture of awe, fear and delight (and lust)


2) Admire the attractive packaging of your Confection as it poses on the kitchen counter.


3) Acclimatise your French Fancy with it's new surroundings by letting it interact with tea accoutrements (such as a mug as pictured) and encourage it to do a little sight-seeing.


4) Allow (or coerce) a small family member into making you a cup of tea.


5) Smile cheesily with your Fancy and your Spongebob Mug (wink optional)


6) Devour greedily, allowing your tastebuds to drown in a tsunami of palatableness as the Fancy gleefully joins your person.


7) Sigh happily.

HUZZAH!!