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And as well as the above signifying the start of the phase when the Autumn wardrobe (including my beloved oxblood Doc Martens, which made the first of their many upcoming appearances at York Beer Festival the other weekend) becomes the first team rather than the chilly day backup, the return of the sudden burning desire to get all the half-done knits lying around the place finished and the revelation that it’s finally worth buying live mussels again, this very lunchtime is – unbelievably – a full year to the day since I picked up the keys to my new(ish) HQ, dodgy boiler and all.

I remember it well, although some discoveries were less welcome than others; since I’m the only person reading this who saw the place before the ten sixteen hour days of non-stop cleaning, plastering, decorating and determined thrashing with the IKEA stick prior to Day 1 of incalls on October 9th, how it was when I first walked through the door as the owner matters not. 365 days on, whilst I have no idea where 2015 has gone whilst I wasn’t looking (soon be Christmas!) everybody has settled in and the anticipated desire for a quiet life relatively free of buses, railway stations, airports and slinking around hotel corridors looking for towel trolleys half the time and spending the other half online ricocheting between Virgin East Coast, Hotels.com and Tripadvisor is panning out nicely. And thank God for that – long may it continue!

All that said, the packing is midway through and the wait is almost over Manchester-wise; Grimmfest beckons on Thursday – yay! Almost as highly anticipated is a planned outing to Red’s True Barbecue where I intend to spend a fair part of teatime post arrival and pre festival; the breaks between the screenings once underway are short, and opportunities for proper food will be thin on the ground, although a Sunday lunchtime outing is also on the cards which will serve the dual purpose of letting me avoid Hellions, after my mercifully falling asleep about an hour in at its FrightFest debut (which according to what I heard later will have improved its entertainment quotient immeasurably). Options (and tear-inducing pictures of roast potatoes) are being compared, and suggestions are welcome.

Anyway, last orders in Scarborough will be 2pm Wednesday afternoon with time being called strictly at three; I will be back on Monday lunchtime, hopefully with some new pictures too (since I’m having a change of scene, I may as well take the Nikon as well as assorted knitting, colouring books and Wilko tabletop sale paperbacks – the films don’t start until midday) and I will then be firmly ensconced until Thursday 22nd, whereupon a fair bit of to-ing and fro-ing will be on the cards until my return from New York mid-November – watch this space!

More soon. And quickly, for the purposes of settling a friendly argument:

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is categorically possible from the contents of one tin of alphabetti spaghetti, as is:

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The defence rests, having eaten the evidence anyway. Back next week.

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And for once I am really really here rather than leaving it to the autopublish function, even if I did draft most of this whilst legged out on the couch at the weekend with a box of Matchmakers and my precious Radio Times close at hand.

It’s been an odd week in the nicest possible way – at this time last year, the year before and a good few before that I would have been gradually coming to following the annual busy London trip plus the trek home afterwards, more than likely surrounded by laundry and vegetable peelings and perfectly happy with the prospect of not leaving the house for days. The gentler pace of strolling down to Flat when the need arose has proved a real treat and aside from spending slightly more time than usual looking stricken in Tesco, this years’ slo-mo run up has done me a world of good. And not just me – the fishes are looking especially chipper, although they may just know that the twinkling lights mean sprouts and turkey are well on their way.

The suitcase is *semi* packed (with plenty of space kept over for turkey-filled tupperwares) and London waits just around the corner, but for now it’s another hour of sleigh ride on BBC4 and an early night once the sprouts are taken care of; Santa is on his way and I’m pretty confident I’ve been good this year even I have eaten my body weight in mince pies and satsumas. So to everybody reading whether we’ve met or not, a very Merry Christmas from me and I’ll look forward to seeing you soon.

Well, some of you.

Amy xx

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And what a month that was! Events (including not one but two local food festivals), general laziness and an awful lot of football (fifty one games total, four of which helpfully obliged should I have needed another reason to be glad I’m not English) have kept me from posting, but nine hours of TV a day fit around further decorating and furniture-shifting plus trying to earn a living has conspired against me. Apologies to all, and please be assured that I am not expired, retired, mortally wounded or even vaguely poorly – yay!

It’s been far too long, but a happy and productive few weeks have been had since returning from London by way of the disused tunnels at Euston (recommended especially for the old posters and getting to peer down a ventilation shaft at unwary folk waiting on the Victoria Line platform) and inbetween the footie-skiving. Even waking up to news of a broken country (which for future reference could probably have been avoided with a carefully-timed Jeremy Kyle marathon on ITV) hasn’t put too much of a dampener on things just yet and besides, making plans to emigrate is unrealistic with two properties and a low level substance abuse problem involving Coopland’s cheese straws.

I now almost have a home that doesn’t resemble a cross between the Steptoes’ yard and a building site (plus some accompanying bumps and bruises including a cracker on the forehead gained whilst forgetting a shelf I’d just put up was there when I stood up) and even – for the first time ever at the age of 43 – an actual usable spare bedroom! Less fun was a hefty unexpected plumbing bill after two days with no heating or hot water whilst gas pipes were replaced – one cold shower a’la 1980’s school PE was enough. Thank God for work flats.

So as to now and a further month of pootling about before descending on a new London venue in Covent Garden (primarily picked for it’s proximity to Somerset House for this years’ Summer Screen films) for a few days – woohoo! A week and a bit later follows the mighty FrightFest in …Shepherds Bush. Unfortunately my always-anticipated annual weekend of justifying the food prices in Soho has been temporarily shifted because of the Leicester Square building works and whilst I wouldn’t choose to spend my Bank Holiday weekend in a shopping centre, it’s all about the films after all. Fingers crossed, especially after the usual panic stricken hour-and-a-bit long online battle to get the bloody pass in the first place.

Anyone wanting to ask about the films can do so immediately afterwards in Waterloo once I’ve had a bath, but that’s all a long way off. The oft-promised new pictures will be on their way now that I have both a little more free time and a few different rooms to play with, and once I’ve dug out the camera remote.

More soon, and I promise it won’t be six weeks! Maybe since the school holidays are almost upon us the weather might improve although as somebody who was caught in the pouring rain on the way home three days in a row, it doesn’t have much room for getting worse. One thing that will not improve is the traffic – to anybody looking to book who’s driving into Scarborough, bear in mind it’ll be a slow process.

Back in a bit. And for anybody who ever sees a thing like the thing below being taken out of their boiler, start sobbing and get your purse ready.

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Hello from Scarborough! Until the morning, anyway.

As most will know it’s been a flying visit and unpack-do laundry-repack situation after spending a lovely and very lazy time in tourist central last week. Possibly the most effort-free part of London in which I’ve ever worked given that everything anybody could really need was pretty much right outside the door, at least food of every description plus bank and bus stops which, being a simple soul, was plenty for me.

For those who (like me) haven’t spent a lot of time there, on the Strand there are also red phone boxes everywhere which was surprisingly festive and cheered me up no end after a nightmarish eight-hour-and-four-train trek to get there at all – I definitely spoke too soon in Previous Blog, and for fear of jinxing myself twice I will offer no comment about any ensuing travel arrangements, possibly ever again. Incidentally, apologies to anybody who got the bollocks about being fully booked all afternoon, but trying to explain why despite leaving the house at 8am I was still two hours away at half past one got old as quickly as you might expect.

I made up for it with a very pleasant evening stroll over to St Paul’s and the new Tate Modern to see the Georgia O’Keefe exhibition (and see above), a rummage round the London Transport Museum (since it was barely five minutes walk away) and with Jackie Brown, Funny Face and the still-wonderful-at-twenty Trainspotting at Summer Screen. SS is over for another year, and the courtyard at Somerset House remains my favourite place to watch a film (in the absence of anywhere else I can do so lying under the stars with blankets, Pringles and a big flask of tea) but a new venue awaits from tomorrow night in the form of the Vue at Shepherds Bush, where by this time I will be awaiting the final film of FrightFest’s opening night, probably drinking beer and idly wondering where the night bus stop is – woohoo!

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Needless to say my phone will not only be off but I won’t have it with me, so anybody keen to catch up in Waterloo will need to either email, or keep their powder dry until Tuesday morning when I will be (hopefully) rested, on sparkling form as befits anybody who has spent a weekend watching on-screen carnage of every conceivable permutation (including That New Korean One which a couple of folk have asked me about already), eating out three times a day and not having to do any housework or laundry for ages. And people wonder why I go to these things.

There’s a good chance of some morning availability before I set off on the less-than-arduous shlep from one air-conditioned room at Kings Cross to (mercifully) another at Waterloo, but that’s a secret. I’ll also be unapologetic about skiving for a couple of hours on the Wednesday afternoon to once again put on a hi-vis (and this time a hard hat, I think) to poke about in the dark under Green Park in Down Street station, which sheltered Winston Churchill through a fair bit of the Blitz and which most only get to see a glimpse of nowadays when their Piccadilly Line train rattles through it. Yay!

So on with the last bits of packing and fridge-tidying; a proper update (with proper photos) will be on it’s way soon, but trying to type on a tablet (especially for an unreformed BlackBerry person, as anybody who has met me will know) is terrible and I need to go to bed.

Meanwhile, and apropos of nothing in particular apart from that I found myself doing some varnishing to it the other day, let’s all watch the Beastie Boys Sabotage video! Back in Scarborough on Friday 3rd…

More soon. Including photo news – promise!

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…and not only are the nights drawing in (curtains shut at seven pm tonight) but it’s starting to feel decidedly backend-ish outside!

This is in sharp contrast to temperatures on the Central Line a couple of weeks ago which were comparable to that of the earth’s core on my arrival for FrightFest’s opening night at least. Not being the warm weather type I decided on a change of tack in the morning and switched to the hitherto unfamiliar Hammersmith & City Line which (being pink) had always appealed anyway and which I’ve never previously had any reason to bother with. And Shepherd’s Bush Market is a lot nicer than Westfield.

Five days, twenty six films on and far too much coffee and junk food later it was all over and back to the real world with no Korean train zombies (seriously, everybody needs to see Train To Busan) and a couple of days rejoining the living in my usual Waterloo stop off after that, home – yay! And on with planning the next lot of charging about – I’m currently feeling particularly jubilant after finally securing a ticket to see my all time favourite band (if I had to pick one) the Pixies, at my all time favourite music venue (if I had to pick one), Brixton Academy in December. And plenty of fun and games before that.

Whilst Manchester’s Grimmfest is not on the itinerary this year thanks in part to my having either seen or deliberately avoided most of the films at FF (but mostly to the total lack of phone-policing; a Diwali theme and cinemagoing don’t mix) I can confirm a mini-trip to Sheffield for the small-but-mighty Celluloid Screams in October; the hotel and travel is booked, the pass bought and the shiny, just-announced programme scrutinised for chunks of free time where a spot of in-room entertaining may take place (in other words, I can get my whore drawers on and rustle up some food and beer money while the stuff I’ve seen already is played). Job done.

The Celluloid Screams programme brings Northern folk an early chance to catch some of the best horror stuff from the London Film Festival and – like my Scottish go-to Dead By Dawn – always inexplicably carries one jaw-droppingly terrible offering to make the remainder shine even brighter; the trick is to spot it in advance which is easier said than done when it’s the Secret Film and not revealed until it starts. Such was the situation surrounding by far the worst film I saw last year, Darling – a pretentious incomprehensible mess that made the previous 2015 front runner Cherry Tree look like The Shining. The politest review-speak description would be ‘polarising’ (a handful of people not on the maker’s A Level Film Studies course rate it as groundbreaking and genre-pushing, everybody else thinks it’s shit). A less polite one would be shit. And anybody who wants to check it out can do so at this years’ Grimmfest.

Thankfully, this years CS schedule looks suitably fab, in the meantime (as a good few have already noticed) I will be back in London for a couple of days next week, and bar that it’s Scarborough for the foreseeable – woohoo! Up to date availability info is always on the front page, for those who keep missing it – further ahead is overleaf. The kids are back at school, the traffic’s normal again and we have our beach back for a few months…

This week’s song of the week may be predictable but my record collection would be a pretty sorry sight without Prince Buster, who passed away last week at 78. May he rest in peace, and always enjoy himself.

More soon!

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…and the floor (nearly) won. It’s finally down – or at least most of it is – but dear God, the dust.

To anybody who called in the days that followed and was faintly surprised to hear the late Leonard Cohen answering, unfortunately that was me. And more is to come since there’s still the final rooms-worth of it to go, but for the time being it’s done with and thanks to mine and Henry’s sterling efforts the mess is almost gone, New Speaker is temporarily ensconced on a shelf nearby and the house is finally settling into Christmas mode, especially now that my living room no longer resembles the Steptoes’ yard.

It’s been a busy couple of weeks even leaving the floor aside – the 24 hour dash to Brixton and back for the Pixies could be said to have set things back a bit further but seriously, who cares – worth every hour and every penny including the twenty quid for the T-shirt I swore I wouldn’t buy. Never has standing on a slope in a darkened room listening to a short, bald man screaming for two hours been so entirely uplifting (and I’ve spent many a two hour stretch in darkened rooms with men of all shapes and sizes) but alarming in the sense that everybody present both on stage and off looked like a proper grown up. More alarming still is that I probably do too. Not to me though, which is all that matters.

Back home and the last of the Christmas preparations are in full swing; the cake is marzipanned and (as of last night) iced following an afternoon of playing nicely in the kitchen with snowflake stamps, tree is up, turkey is ordered, shopping is done, presents are wrapped and the Christmas Radio Times (the publication of which signifies the official start of Christmas in this house, at least) is bought. This week promises to be a calm and relaxing build up to the day itself with little left to do. Optimism is the way forward.

And as we can see, the Christmas page is up! Not that it’ll make any difference to those reading on Adultwοrk, who will just have to learn to click through if they want availability since posting details of it on the profile page is strictly verboten (to the extent that I’ll even have to cut this sentence out as I copy and paste it over) on pain of getting unceremoniously dumped from the site without warning or explanation. But I digress; what getting all the jobs out of the way in good time (a habit I fell into over years of working in London every December for the whole week before the break and having to get everything done before I set off) does allow for is a fairly seamless final working week and I will not only be keeping company at my flat every day this week, but until later than usual too – yay! Usual caveats of booking before 5pm for those calling on the day will apply, but bar Thursday I will be taking bookings until 9pm instead of 7 and I would recommend getting in in good time. It’ll be fun!

London will be hot on Boxing Day’s heels on Tuesday week for anybody wanting to cosy up in Pimlico, but no need to worry about that now; Song of the Week is one of my all time Christmas favourites and it never hurts to have a bizarre yet festive video accompaniment.

More soon! Mince pies are beckoning, and thanks to the resounding success of my pre-Christmas WeightWatchers stint (to the extent that my clothes are now all too big) I can have as many as I like. Roll on next week…

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It’s crept up fast!

The weeks have flown by, with the snow trying to put in another appearance (although with far less success than at the time of the last post), and I’ve had trips to see the Nutcracker from Covent Garden courtesy of the Stephen Joseph’s streaming programme, my regular trek to Brixton Academy for Gogol Bordello ten days or ago (supported by Lucky Chops, a bonus for anyone who enjoys a stageful of fine young men stripped to the waist and playing tubas and trombones, and why ever not?) and the usual tie-in London stuff; a ride out to the Natural History Museum for – finally – a look at the blue whale plus the ice skating outside and my perennial amazement at how big a giraffe actually is. Honestly, go and see the giraffe.

I also managed a leisurely trip back through town on the bus to see not just the Christmas lights but the magnificent scaffolding currently encasing Big Ben (well worth a look even for those with no particular interest in scaffolding) and a visit to Borough Market for cheese, brownies, sausages and a very expensive scotch egg; it’s worth pointing out that all this took place days before my official London arrival a week ago! A lot of fun was had then too, and almost entirely without leaving my hotel (which fortunately was very nice and extremely well appointed) thus it was in festive mood that I left, albeit a tired and seriously croaky one thanks to the bloody overheating and lack of window opening.

Back home and all the extra shopping trips to stock up on the sort of unholy junk I don’t get to eat for the other fifty weeks of the year (chocolates in big tubs, Pringles, three different kinds of ice cream) as well as tomorrows giant Sunday dinner, the carrying home of which nearly put my back out (ten pounds turkey + five pounds potatoes & assorted veg in one rucksack = stupid) are done, the twinkly lights are twinkling and Muppet Christmas Carol – mainstay of Christmas Eve veg preparation – is on in three hours (I’m counting); mince pies are next on the list and who knows, I may even get dressed. For those who want to know, I’ll be back on Friday 29th since unforeseen but determinedly spanner-throwing events will prevent my attendance prior – sorry! I’ll check emails when I can but the phone is and will remain off before then, although I’ll glance at it.

So as the darkness starts falling – after all, it is half past three in the afternoon – a very Merry Christmas and peaceful New Year to everyone! And what better as our Song of the Christmas Week than a bit of Tom Waits…

And with that, back soon – and with a few exciting plans for 2018! Meanwhile, the Pringles won’t eat themselves.

All the best to all of us :)

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After all the charging around over the last few weeks it’s finally time for settling down into at least a semblence of cosy normality (give or take the odd bit of excitement) and what better time for some R&R than a birthday – yay! I think last weekend’s Iceland delivery was probably the actual highlight, but then a visit from anybody bearing bake-at-home Greggs and a Black Forest is always going to take some beating, especially for somebody now inching from their mid- into their late- forties. God, I love being middle aged.

As has become something of a tradition, this years’ birthday element is palladium; according to Wikipedia a

‘rare and lustrous silvery-white metal discovered in 1803 by William Hyde Wollaston. He named it after the asteroid Pallas, which was itself named after the epithet of the Greek goddess Athena, acquired by her when she slew Pallas. Palladium, platinum, rhodium, ruthenium, iridium and osmium form a group of elements referred to as the platinum group metals (PGMs). These have similar chemical properties, but palladium has the lowest melting point and is the least dense of them’.

So not only is my corresponding atomic number named for a Greek goddess (and an extremely cool one), I am also officially the least dense *preens*. Until next year, at least.

The year so far – such as it is twenty two days in, anyway – has been lots of fun and whilst I’m definitely enjoying the current peace, tranquility and even the chilly temperatures now that the brighter days are here, the last minute extension to my first London trip of 2019 was a blast and despite a brief hiatus which involved a repack, a move across town and another unpack (on top of the necessary repack-unpack involved in the Going Home process) well worth the slightly fraught last minute rehash, especially since it found me some lovely new visitors who brought with them radio station, running route and restaurant recommendations, amongst other things not starting with R.

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The next trip is creeping up fast and once again it will be slightly longer than usual; I will be arriving on the Saturday afternoon instead of the Sunday advertised and whilst I wouldn’t normally be pointing this out in public, the plan is to head straight for my nice, quiet Pimlico digs rather than bump around the usual budget pods (as much as I love them) and prepare properly for this years’ London Winter Run first thing on the Sunday morning. When I say ‘prepare’ I mean ‘panic’, since I am still far too fat after Christmas and I haven’t done anywhere near enough much running – those who remember the Vitality 10K in May (and the fact I got all the way round at all remains nothing short of a miracle) will also remember that whilst I’m certainly enthusiastic, I’m not actually very good at this type of thing and the advent of bake-at-home Gregg’s has not done anything to help that. Damn you, Iceland.

Fortunately, I have some further inspiration for putting down the fork – new photos! Some will remember I spent a lovely weekend over at the Titanic Spa near Huddersfield and wound up with some fabulous pictures courtesy of my friend KimberlyC (and vice versa); we’ve been planning a repeat ever since and finally settled on next week – yay! This does mean that I’ll be temporarily off grid between Wednesday and Friday lunchtime, but fingers crossed we’ll wind up plenty to be going on with and a bit of a refresh and an update is always good for waking things up. I can’t guarantee I’ll get any fit to post up between getting back and heading off again, but I’ll do my best – promise.

The birthday-themed entry has been running on fumes for a while, so this weeks’ Song Of the Week is a longstanding, albeit none too birthday-y, personal favourite instead, specifically the hastily Spotified one which accompanied my recent 8am realisation (and switching off of the radio alarm in abject horror) that unless I could work out an alternative and fast, I was going to have to get used to waking up with Lauren Laverne instead of Shaun Keaveny – for the love of God, no. Why, 6Music, why? Thankfully the new(ish) BBC Sounds app swiftly put a stop to it with some of the evening stuff I always miss, and after a few days of getting used to each other I think Marc Riley will do fine provided I manage to keep an eye on the time. Even I’m not sharp enough to perfectly match 8 o’clock last night with 8 o’clock this morning, although you never know with a bit of practice.

I also remember queuing with my friend Colin to buy OK Computer back in 1997 outside the much-missed Andy’s Records (where Bodycare is now in the Brunswick Centre, and which was the only place who were happy to order all the things I’d hurriedly scratched the names of down on paper while listening to John Peel of an evening) then spending the rest of the week listening to it on a loop, which was what people did back in the day when they got new records. I am forty six now, don’t forget.

More soon, and pictures too! A relaxing day and some birthday haggis beckons later, which will do nothing at all for the fitness levels but plenty for everything else.

…from my cosy and peaceful digs here in Edinburgh, mine at least until Sunday when I will be packing up and strolling the twenty minutes or so to my final port of call in the late evening ready to be up with the lark on Monday morning! Irn Bru helps.

It’s all been a bit manic (by the time I get home next Wednesday afternoon I’ll have been in six different beds inside twelve days, which is a pretty sterling effort even for me) but for now it’s time for me to settle into my seat up at Filmhouse and enjoy my favourite bank holiday activity – sitting in a dark cinema ploughing through as many films as I can stay awake through in a day. Keeping out of the sun is why my skin is like it is, after all; conversely, watching so many films is probably why my eyesight is so vastly, monumentally shite.

Back at HQ the decorating continues and will hopefully be all but finished by the end of next month; after a quick dash down to London at the start of May I will be home to get on with it until the last Bank Holiday – yay! Having been in absentia for the majority of April (sorry), it’ll be my first chance in a while to spend any time relaxing and catching up with some Scarborough folk, but needs must and as hectic as last week was (even Pimlico, although the frame of reference for ‘hectic’ is maybe a little different), I’m looking forward to a lazy weekend where all I have to do is turn up on time, face the right direction and remember to keep my eyes open. I’m always fine with the first two, at least.

To practicalities; the phone is off and will remain so at least until Sunday morning – I’ll check it a couple of times a day for texts but these events are literally the only times ever where emailing is the way forward. That said – and in the interests of saving everybody time – do note that any reply to any email will just tell you to call me on the day when you want to book.

Back to it! I know it’s a bit rushed and unforgivably picture-free, but I’ll update shortly in a bit more detail – for now, Happy Easter to everybody! The sun is shining, the films start at 9pm and I’m off to find a Scotch pie.

More soon…

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Hello! And as the final stretch of a definitely fun but extremely tiring month approaches I’m attempting some quiet downtime at home before sprinting off to London (again) in roughly 25 hours – this consisting of a bit of a girly fuss (face mask, pedicure, Crest whitestrips) some serious bingewatching of my favourite Sex And The City boxset (yes, judge away) on Prime, crinkle cut chips and gravy with sweet tea and not getting dressed at all since yesterday evening. Bliss.

Edinburgh is still one of my favourite places and certainly not because I was fortunate enough to be born there many years ago, but one thing it isn’t generally renowned for is it’s tropical climate; the surprise heatwave last weekend meant a trip out for emergency flipflops and a T-shirt dress, and allowed the usual between-film plastic sandwich deal/Irn Bru from the Sainsbury’s Local around the corner to take on a far more pleasant and civilised air with the very pretty Rutland Square a couple of minutes’ away, where I whiled away a good few breaks on the grass instead of squashed into a corner of the Filmhouse lobby amongst the sale DVDs.

Unfortunately for anybody visiting in the couple of days before hometime it also meant a hotel room temperature that would rival a sauna – the traditional kind, not the Edinburgh kind. Huge apologies to anybody who hadn’t planned on having to spend their expensive paid time in a nicely furnished oven, but be thankful you didn’t have to try and sleep in it – had I known, I would have gone full aircon elsewhere but it all turned out OK in the end. I realise I said exactly the same thing this time last year but I’m definitely planning to return, hopefully for long enough to catch all the people I missed and I definitely won’t leave it a full twelve months.

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A few days’ stay in a lovely apartment also (finally) afforded the opportunity for some new pictures – woohoo! The time constraints this week have so far stuck a spanner in the works when it came to getting the editing done and actually putting them where anybody can look at them, but they’re on their way and whilst my hair appointment will make them redundant to some degree, the rest of me will be staying very much the same for better or worse. I should have the rest in the gallery by this time next week, but in the meantime here’s one to be going on with ^^^^^. There are more to come, but needs must and it can wait until I get back; the suitcase won’t pack itself.

After six nights, lots of films (and a fair bit of cosy in-film sleeping, including the night I inexplicably decided to catch the late showing of Us at the Vue and wound up completely missing the last twenty minutes), a big dinner in the nice Wagamama on St Andrew’s Square and some moderately energetic in-room entertaining later it was back on the train for home to tip out the suitcase, do laundry, refill everything else and stick it all back in again for this week; I will be back in Aldgate East from Tuesday evening followed by a quick dash up to Euston for the day on Thursday before my train goes and it’s hometime again – yay! From then on it’s Scarborough for a full three and a half weeks and some serious DIY catching up will be on the cards, not least because I’m well aware the flat is still looking far from it’s best and frankly the chaos is getting on my nerves.

We’re also long overdue a Song Of The Week, and whilst it was extremely tempting to stick in something musical from the Dead By Dawn programme (Arturo for example, which anybody who’s ever had one of those nights out will have no trouble getting on board with), the sun is still shining and the summer feeling is well worth wringing the life out of while it lasts. Plus I woke up to Les Fleurs at the tail end of Us and realised I hadn’t heard it in years, so it’s about time.

So, London next stop; back in Scarborough in time for the Bank Holiday weekend and not forgetting the Tour De Yorkshire later in the week, which is probably worth bearing in mind for anybody planning a visit. Not to me obviously, since I’ll be out watching the cycling.

More soon…

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It’s June already! The longer days are well and truly here, although since I’ve had a very pleasant but also very tiring week I’ve been in bed while there was still some semblence of daylight for the last two nights, so I’ve not had chance to take full advantage by idly wandering down to Tesco at 10pm or coming out of evening yoga class with the sun still shining at 8pm. Admittedly it doesn’t get any more exciting than that, but that’s just fine by me, at least until this next week is over and I’m back at home for a good six weeks – yay!

I did manage a trip over to Malton for the annual food festival last weekend (which helped curtail the spending since I was headed for London the following day, although I did spring for an expensive lemonade at the bus bar, just so I could try to see inside it) and whilst the bedroom at the flat is still waiting to be painted, I have been using my downtime constructively by finishing off the rest of it and even attempting to put a two person IKEA flatpack together unaided (the Kallax stacked-cube shelving, for anybody interested). This went better than expected but still not well, and help was eventually sought or the bastard thing would have fallen to pieces altogether and I would need an even bigger swear box.

The luxury of a day in London without prior commitments (at least those that involve spending twenty three or so hours of the day in my hotel room) is something I don’t get very often and I made the most of it with a trip to the V&A for the (sold out, and deservedly so) Christian Dior exhibition, a stroll up to Angel and subsequent wander past the Screen on the Green which while looking for somewhere to have dinner led me to Rocketman, a film I had little or no interest in seeing, but that was starting at an ideal time for me to put a bucket of Thai noodles away and get back again without missing the trailers.

As is so often the case with things I was ambivalent about I thoroughly enjoyed it, heartily recommend it and may well wander out to see it again; I also got a first look at the trailer for the new Tarantino film – and here it is! An altogether fruitful endeavour even if the bus back inexplicably took forever. I could have walked it in less time.

Just as exciting, we also had the latest trailer for Toy Story 4 (which I was first alerted to on a trip to see Mary Poppins last Christmas and had to force myself to forget about for the sake of my sanity, even though I cried so much at Toy Story 3 I couldn’t leave the cinema until everybody else had gone). I also plan to see Booksmart at some point this week – possibly at Rich Mix, possibly at Genesis – which ought to indicate to anybody nearby that I’ll be back in Aldgate East, something the organised (a fair few of whom rang last week when I was just along the District Line at Victoria) will already know.

It’s really just a flying visit and specifically a hair appointment-based one (which will necessitate another trip to Beigel Bake for the packed lunch, something I’m certainly not crying about although my skinny jeans might), but there will be free time for visitors, including those I missed last week. My next London dates have yet to be sorted but there will be another trip before FrightFest in August and in the meantime, I’ll be enjoying some well deserved peace, quiet and (fingers crossed) sunshine and fresh air here at the seaside – I feel as if I’ve spent most of the last three months either in a hotel room or on a building site and it’s definitely time for a change of pace.

Keeping the hotel theme going a little longer, and with a far jauntier touch than I had at half past five on Friday morning when I got up to prepare for the train ride home, a long-forgotten Song Of The Week which popped up unexpectedly on my Spotify while I was on the bus to my fourth one in a month. I’d forgotten all about the White Stripes.

More soon – I have last minute packing to finish! I do hope everybody likes all the new pictures too; the replacement process is ongoing, and may the sun keep shining while it does…

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Hello! It’s high time for an update, even if there (in the best possible way) is little excitement to post about. It’s midsummer and the days are long, evenings warm enough to only require the thinnest of hoodies over the t-shirt and as always, the rain has been heavy and persistent, at least until yesterday and I managed an escape to the beach – yay!

For somebody who has lived here in Scarborough for twenty nine years next month I have probably spent barely a month of that entire time on the beach, which seems a bit of a shame and one that needs to be rectified asap. Plus the call of proper doughnuts is too much to ignore once I get within ten minutes of the lifeboat house and frankly, if this is going to be the only summer we get it’s as well to make the most of it. Plus the few weeks downtime between London trips has given me chance to catch up with some much needed batch cooking, my favourite gym classes and also get reacquainted with my very neglected Pokémon Go account to get some long walks in in the name of monster-hunting even though I am 46.

It’s exactly the halfway point between London visits and my next stint in Angel will no doubt be here before we know it – plans are underway to map out the rest of the year and even the start of the next, but after the mini-stop in Euston a few weeks ago a proper stay there is in the offing as well as the usual suspects over in Whitechapel, Waterloo, Victoria and Pimlico (the latter just as soon as I can rely on the weather to have cooled off a bit). Dates will be available overleaf as soon as I know them, but there will – provisionally – be no more six week long gaps if only for the sake of my sanity; as pleasant as weekday lie-ins, beach walks, yoga classes and languorous afternoons pottering in the kitchen cooking soup/baking cornbread and brownies most certainly are, there’s only so much R&R a person needs. And that’s when it isn’t pissing down morning, noon and night.

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There has also been time to get properly caught up on admin and the most important bit of information for newsletter subscribers is that I’m currently struggling with an update to the plugin I use to write and send it, which has – not to put too fine a point on it – completely fucked it up, and subsequently there’s going to be a bit (more) of a gap before I can do another. It’s a pain right enough, but hopefully it’ll be fixed soon and in the meantime just blog will have to do. I’ll have another crack at it tomorrow, but don’t count on anything sensible for a while at least.

The next big event on my radar is the full FrightFest programme being released a week on Thursday; my August Bank Holiday weekends have been accounted for thus for a good few years now, and this one will be no exception. Planning which of the five screens I will be sitting in at any given time over the five days is almost my favourite part (alongside the bus rides there/back and having Dr Pepper, Babybels and Wagon Wheels for breakfast) and the blank spreadsheet is ready and waiting as always – there may be the odd space for bookings inbetween, so watch this space. Hair will follow, and then it’s full steam ahead to Waterloo for the rest of the week – woohoo! I will almost certainly be crowbarring a trip to Victoria in before that, all being well; concrete details to follow…

In the meantime, peace and tranquility reigns! I will be around and about for incalls here in Scarborough with appropriate notice (and just to reiterate what this means, at least an hour please since I’m unlikely to be at my flat unless I know I need to be) for another three weeks yet, so fingers crossed for the weather. In decorating news the wait for the render/plaster to finish drying out continues so the place still isn’t looking its best, but at least it won’t be too much longer and the whole lot might even be done by the end of the summer holidays. And the IKEA bits are holding up nicely.

Song Of The Week is to celebrate the summer or as we now know it, Saturday June 22nd. For anybody who hasn’t listened to Pet Sounds in a while, definitely do it.

More soon! The cornbread is calling…

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After a full six weeks of peace and tranquillity, or as near as it ever gets for the gainfully self employed, it’s almost time to get packed and set off for Angel at the weekend – yay! The weather forecast has been checked and proved inconclusive, therefore the timeless British tradition of just bringing everything potentially useful (sunglasses, flipflops, Factor 50, umbrella, polar fleece) will be continued and I will be digging it all out over the next couple of days.

Last Saturday saw the annual pantomime that is buying a Frightfest weekend pass; just over an hour of endless timeouts and pressing Refresh this year for one ticket (which admittedly is an improvement on 2016 particularly when at one point it didn’t look as if I’d get one at all) and thanks to my sterling forward planning my favourite mini-pod hotel has been booked for the August Bank Holiday weekend since January, so all organised! By way of a culture shock, I’ll be moving over to my favourite fancy-schmancy Waterloo hotel on the Tuesday afterwards for the rest of the week for a bit more space and a spa and needless to say all are welcome, at least all who can string a polite and coherent sentence together and get my name right, which admittedly writes off at least half of the enquiries from the last few days. I believe it’s called Falling At The First Hurdle.

Bar a couple of drizzly spells, the sunshine has continued and I have done likewise when it comes to getting outdoors at every possible opportunity; there has been ice cream from the ice cream van, the fighter planes on Armed Forces Day (and I do have a video, but I can’t work out how to add it) and a lot of Pokémon Go. Since it’ll all likely be over and done with once the schools break up it’s always worth making the most of the long days, but it also means that I’m even less likely than usual to be hanging about at the flat with phone in hand, so as ever, NOTICE please! If I had a tenner for every time I’ve said ‘sorry, too short notice‘ on the phone this week – well, that would be pretty great, but it’s sadly not going to happen.

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The promised new pictures are well on their way and a handful are up! Apologies for the blurry mess quality of the current set, but the light in my flat is dire even if my phone camera isn’t – thankfully you can still make me out, but it was all a bit of a mad rush (and I’ll be honest, I plan to ditch the majority and retake the rest). The very newest of all – which are much better quality thanks at least in part to my shiny new phone but also a venue with bigger windows – are still needing cropping and faffing with and I don’t have time this week, but there’s one above to be going on with and another overleaf on the slightly-rejigged About Page (since the previous one was almost five years old *winces*).

Back to the approaching week and whilst availability is certainly dwindling, there’s time yet including first thing Wednesday morning before I pack up, check out and amble over to Brick Lane for a hair touch up followed by a look round Spitalfields Market (time allowing), a big dinner at the German Gym (definitely) and a completely uneventful train ride home – fingers crossed. I will be back at work in Scarborough on the Friday after a nice long lie in (also known as Thursday) and a spot of fresh air, and that’ll be it until August!

Song Of The Week this week will be familiar to anybody who has seen me in person, given that it’s a stalwart of every playlist I’ve ever had. A new one is well underway and I have no doubt Marlena will be on it somewhere, but I’ll be leaving off the rainy day jobs while the weather lasts so as fun as playlist-making is, the fine tuning will have to wait.

More soon! Feet up for now, I think.

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Well the weekend would have been more wonderful without the endless flipping between air conditioning so brutal that Pingu would have felt at home, and the thirty two degrees outside in the square (where I eventually threw in the towel on the Sunday afternoon and fell asleep in a deckchair under a tree, missing the post-lunch film altogether) and – as ever – more sleep, but all told FrightFest is still a pretty fair way to spend an August Bank Holiday even without any real standout films this year, for me at least.

The closest I can get to a recommendation would probably be Halloween Party from Canada (which I can’t find a link for, but anybody who enjoyed It Follows and shares my fondness for the teen horror likes of Final Destination would do well to seek it out) and I’ll Take Your Dead, both micro-budget Discovery screen finds and well above the standard of the main screen – the big crowdpleaser of the weekend Ready Or Not gets a general release on the 29th, I think; I was unimpressed and went to get some chips instead. Still, the hottest FrightFest weather I can remember meant plenty of opportunities to get out for a wander and catch Pokémons around some of the nearby tourist sights I rarely see prior to heading for Waterloo after the Bank Holiday and then home!

More promising film-wise (and not least because many of the things I want to see fall during a week when I’ll be in town anyway for hair, if nothing else) is the London Film Festival next month – my tickets are booked (including a new Nicolas Cage one – woohoo!) and I’ll be pitching up in Angel from Sunday 6th as planned. I may wander over to the Screen On The Green, since I wound up at the Vue for Once Upon A Time In Hollywood in the end (the 2pm start time JUST allowed me to be back in Leicester Square and in my FrightFest seat for six – the two thirty start at the Screen would definitely not have).

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More details about October will follow directly, but in the meantime I’ll soon get to see OUATIH again since the Prince Charles has picked it up and has showings next week, (as has Fight Club, which I may also pop over to); it’s that time of year, alright. Next week brings Aldgate East for the first time in a while and everything is well on track, thus I will be keeping company from Wednesday afternoon onwards and going home on a shiny new Azuma train on Saturday – yay! Well, it was only another tenner.

The time of year here in Scarborough has meant a turn for the decidedly backend-ish and very welcome it is too, bar the first evening I went for a run at half past seven and found myself picking my way home up the side of the cliff below the clocktower in the bloody dark at barely eight o’clock – that was quick! A huge cardigan was immediately bought to celebrate and even more excitingly, my first ever pair of Kickers, which I begged for for school and was sternly refused (since I already had Doc Martens, and neither are cheap) so I only had to wait thirty five years, although my penchant for ugly shoes hasn’t exactly gone without in the meantime. It may well take another thirty five to break the bloody things in after a summer in flipflops and well worn adidas; a brand new pair of sturdy leather boots is a serious commitment.

For our first Autumn Song Of The Week it’s back to Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, my film recommendation of the month since I can’t hand-on-heart give the title to any of this years’ FF offerings. If you didn’t like Jackie Brown you probably won’t like this either, but everybody else – proceed. Lord, the clothes. And the cars…

More soon! I’m off to find a crumble and a blanket.

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And with the turn of the decade it’s been a busy few weeks and not just in London, where an accommodation blip screwed things up not entirely but fairly comprehensively at least for the first couple of days (although it did give me chance to get over to the Prince Charles for a preview of the exhausting but wholly terrific Uncut Gems which I can highly recommend – sadly I missed out on this week’s Genius; see above and form an orderly queue, ladies) but back here too, where yet more DIY jobs have been on the go just in case I’d forgotten what dust was. Thank God the worst of it is over with – for now.

The first few weeks of the year have meant a fair bit of getting organised and having a clearout with a view to simplifying things a little – the clutter was taking over thus wardrobes, drawers and storage baskets have been tipped on the basis that if I didn’t like or wear X set of lingerie in 2009 it’s unlikely that I’ll start now, and having discovered the textile recycling bank at the back of the Tesco car park I have been ruthless in getting rid of it. All I need to do is remember not to buy any more.

The new photos are also well in hand, and while I won’t have time to do anything with them this week, there should be some ready soon to cheer things up and give me something with which to replace the less than a year old ones! Fingers crossed, anyway.

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Edinburgh is sneaking up fast and whilst I’ll be travelling up on Wednesday afternoon, I’m unlikely to be available until first thing Thursday morning; as the vigilant will know Wednesday is my birthday and whilst I have no particular problem with working, I’m planning a walk across town to see the very building in which I was born followed by dinner and a trip to the pictures so it’s unlikely I’ll have any free time unless it’s pissing down (which of course it never does in Scotland). I will be in town until Saturday teatime, so no rush – I turned away a fair few on my last trip a couple of months ago for various shopping and Pokémon reasons, so hopefully everybody can get caught up, including me.

As mentioned last time, my Scarborough availability will be reducing as of the middle of next month; I’ll be around but far less, and whilst nothing major will change for the folk who normally book on a Monday and Friday, the mid week days will be a rarer occurence and whilst the site frontpage will be updated weekly as usual and should be everybody’s first port of call, it’ll take me a while to go over all the rest of my ads (I’m not exactly proud that somebody turned up the other day expecting a forty year old brunette), for the time being the best way to find out is just call/text me and ask.

For the time being it’s time to get ready for the week ahead, with a spot of batch cooking in the brand new cast-iron casserole that I had coveted for weeks since it went half price in the Argos January sale but was sold out everywhere I looked …until I found a lone one in the branch on the Strand – yay! It turns out that carrying a five kg lidded pan in a box around central London in the pouring rain is even less fun than it sounds, but it was worth every second, and Song Of The Week heralds the first kitchen disco of the year the day I decided that eating virtually nothing but chocolate, dates and crisps for the best part of a month had lost any desirable qualities it ever had and that it was high time for me and Pan to pull our fingers out and prepare and cook food.

Fun fact: Reverend Black Grape remains the only song request that I have ever managed to get played on the radio (by Vernon Kaye, I think). Cool.

More soon! I’ll try to get a birthday one in as usual, but if not I’ll be back at the weekend…

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It’s been another lovely peaceful week! Now there’s a surprise.

This last weekend has marked a full calendar month of not working and therefore a full calendar month of not wearing makeup, lingerie or – thinking about it – any garment that isn’t pyjamas or a dressing gown requires fastenings. I can’t pretend I haven’t wondered whether I ought to put on a bra just for the practice as I suspect I’m going to struggle, but no rush.

I somehow managed to find a couple of free afternoons to rewatch some personal classics, among them True Romance (last seen on a balmy August evening in 2015 on the Somerset House courtyard alongside Warriors – definitely a double bill to remember), Planes, Trains and Automobiles (obviously) and one of my favourites of all time Babe, a near-masterpiece which I could watch non-stop on a loop for a week and never tire of although I don’t believe I’ve ever made it through even the first ten minutes without sobbing (and usually full on ugly-crying) and whose narration alone elevates it above any childrens film I can think of. James Cromwell was robbed of that Oscar.

“The pig and the farmer regarded each other, and for a fleeting moment, something passed between them. A faint sense of some common destiny.”

Happily, Babe is on Netflix, so everybody who is watching it is simultaneously not watching whatever that currently much-plugged grotesquerie about gay redneck tigers is and therefore doing the universe a favour. And I still have the far more slapsticky but still eminently worthwhile Babe 2: Pig In The City waiting in the wings for later!

Saturday afternoon saw another highlight; having stationed myself in the spare room for a spot of inventory-updating and stock rotation I was delighted to find a forgotten Betty Crocker Devil’s Food Cake mix that had slipped down behind a prized case of yellow cornmeal (bloody murder to get hold of, but every sweet and grainy wedge of cornbread is worth it), and despite it requiring three precious eggs and most of my chocolate stash for frosting, I was all over it like a cheap suit. This unfortunately meant the result wasn’t a pretty sight (waiting for a cake to cool down properly before un-tinning it, sandwiching it together and covering it with chocolate ganache is strongly advised for a reason, it turns out), but in the time it took me to cut half into neat slices to go on a baking sheet for the freezer and then wolf half of what remained while standing over the kitchen sink, appearances barely even registered. Classy.

With homemade cake on board and since the weather conditions were amenable I decided to put on my oldest fit-to-be-worn-in-public outfit and take my criminally neglected Pokémons out for a spot of fresh air and some exercise after a full three weeks of barely going outside, and headed for the newly reopened cliffside paths and gardens, first establishing that nobody else was on them (or at least nobody walking in the facing direction) and that my headphones were charged – an easily done but soul destroying mistake when they haven’t been used in a couple of weeks.

A decent stroll in the sunshine, several Pokémon battles and even a bonus bit of birdwatching and bluebell-spotting later I came back feeling enlivened and even a little celebratory, not least because I had reason to wear outdoor clothes for more than an hour. One of these days I’ll get the running gear on, but I suspect it’ll wait until I get back to EC3 – one thing I can really do without is a trip to A&E with a broken ankle after sticking my foot in a pothole or tripping over a tree root, and I daresay they wouldn’t be too thrilled to see me either. Wide, flat, and above all empty pavements are the way forward.

Song of the Week follows, and has provided recourse to exercise several times without my so much as having to lace a heel lock. Assuming that jumping up and down in my pyjamas counts as exercise.

Anybody who can track it down would do well to check out the Bad Brains cover with Henry Rollins (try the Pump Up The Volume soundtrack, if you can find it). Top notch stuff.

More soon! And this was quite soon, wasn’t it?

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And so it continues, although the very welcome email from HMRC with details of the finally-upcoming SEISS grants announced a few weeks back brightened my day up no end (the online tool for anybody who wants to check eligibility for themselves is here, btw).

Living with nothing coming in and no idea when there may next be anything coming in (and nobody to ask, since nobody else has any idea either) while you watch what reserves you have shrink is pretty shit challenging, but we can only make the best of it and fortunately I had no end of practice in my younger days, even though it definitely didn’t feel fortunate at the time. Roll on May 13th, and fingers crossed we can all can start to breathe out a bit. And the sun is shining!

Now that the weather has brightened up I’ve had a lovely week getting through a couple of good books in front of an open window (a novelty in itself for somebody unused to being above the ground floor) and some gentle, low effort runs around the temporarily super-peaceful City streets. The running has been slow enough to allow me to further investigate my new neighbourhood and it’s many interesting features – my current favourites are the skulls above the gateway to St Olave’s churchyard just off Fenchurch Street, the bottom bit of the Scalpel building at Lime Street (which I have walked past from a couple of streets away many times and never actually found before) and a public ashtray that looks like a Cyberman – yay! I have no doubt there will be many more.

The weekend sunshine seemed appropriate for a more traditional stroll down to Trafalgar Square – the original plan was to try a bike from the docking station in the next street, but we’re not quite there yet. A quick river crossing later and I was set for a slow amble home again along the South Bank (largely unaffected people-wise compared with any other weekend afternoon apart from the taped off benches); the ambling became noticeably quicker about forty minutes after setting off when I remembered that the hotels were all closed, I’d had two mugs of tea plus a big glass of water before leaving the flat, and I am a middle aged woman. Thankfully Waterloo station and it’s facilities remain open. Relief is not the word.

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The combination of time, a well equipped kitchen and a flour delivery has also allowed me to throw myself into the baking with aplomb and in a single day I managed to knock out bread rolls (the only thing I remembered to take a picture of), mini coffee cakes and apple kuchen, thanks in no small part to my washer dryer and it’s warm and cosy cupboard housing which has provided a dough-proving and butter-softening environment that would be the envy of anybody wanting to bake just about anything. I will certainly be keeping it up when I get back (and also the running, since the former really necessitates the latter if I’m still going to fit through the door, let alone into my work clothes when the time comes).

As everyone knows, you can have too much of a good thing and since there is little more I can do here for now and home is beckoning, tomorrow morning I will be heading back to Scarborough for a few weeks of more R&R by the sea. With a bit of luck the next time I return we’ll be permitted to keep some company, but either way I’ll be back around the end of the month if not before, and in anticipation of this have carefully stashed more Pringles, Snickers and a pack of Mr Kipling pies in the carb cupboard to welcome myself. I will also have some new pictures organised to (hopefully) cheer everybody up, assuming I can actually fit in the frame by then (I’m not kidding either; I tried to put on a non sports bra earlier for the first time in weeks, and the process was like trying to cram two water filled balloons into a pair of trainer socks). I’m also hoping to hear from my hairdresser soon, and I suspect I’m not the only one – I’ve noticed even in the limited time I’ve been out and about that the Eighties are definitely back.

Given the time being spent with wooden spoon and mixing bowl in hand, a kitchen singsong has been the order of the day many times over and there is surely no better place to start cheering oneself up than the Aretha Franklin back catalogue (before moving on to Dinah Washington and Sarah Vaughan, but I digress). Kitchen singsong = before 5pm, kitchen disco = after 5pm unless it’s the weekend. I don’t make the rules.

We’ll all have a bit more to work with on Sunday I’m told – until then, more Netflix (this week I shall be mostly watching Legally Blonde, Finding Nemo and After Life 2), and more cake.

Update soon!

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Well even here in Scarborough, it’s summer – I know this because yesterday I went outdoors without a cardigan, or at least without one on it was in my bag. When (and how) did that happen?

The upcoming Bank Holiday weekend promises to pan out exactly the same way as every other Bank Holiday weekend here only with more shit on the beach – NOTHING is open, folks – in that I got all my supplies in early and can barricade myself in the house for the duration. A veggie biryani is on the go, a film playlist is organised and whilst efforts are being made to get back to my fighting weight, banana muffins are in the oven and more pickled eggs have been put up; many more in fact, since Sainsbury’s Online kindly substituted a tray of twenty free range/mixed size when they’d run out of my (requested) modest boxes of six. And I had ten at home already.

My eggs will be ready in three weeks and can sit undisturbed behind the towels in the bathroom cupboard in the meantime. Happily, this should coincide perfectly with my next getting home again – as this suggests, and due in pretty equal parts to the complete lack of anything to do bar baking things and eating them (with predictable effects on clothing tightness), the end of the SEISS grants with no sign of an extension period plus the ever-reassuring total lack of contact from my bank regarding the much trumpeted ‘bounceback loan’ that I applied for almost three weeks ago I’m making tentative plans to come back to London and back to work at the end of the month; I’ve had enough of sitting about, I have bills and rent to pay and I’ll provisionally be taking a (very) limited number of incall bookings from early June – yay!

So. ‘Limited’ means one booking a day up to maybe four a week, and this means that if you’d like to visit on a day where someone else has already arranged to do so I will decline and suggest another, the point being to allow adequate time between people other than me being in my flat for thorough cleaning and airing. As with every other aspect of life, it’s up to everyone to choose the level of risk with which they’re comfortable (visiting a prostitute in the first place would be too much for many, and that’s fine too) and I’m happy with mine – even in ‘normal’ times I come into contact with fewer people in a week than most workers in shops, banks and cafés will in ten or fifteen minutes.

Consequentially (and as can be seen above), the preparation for a return to civilisation has begun in earnest although not that earnestly; I’ve yet to pick up a razor for the first time in nine weeks and it won’t hurt either the blade or my legs to wait another ten days. The transformation from angry hedgehog to member of the human race will be slow but thorough, and hopefully fun – thanks to the lovely people at my hairdressers and their encouraging promise that however badly we fuck up our colour trying to do it ourselves they can sort it out, I will be getting stuck into a bit of highlighting and toning over the next few days plus some serious sorting of the nails, and renewal of the unexpectedly popular Pink Pubes pictured the other week. And obviously a bit less cake.

Maintenance tasks taken care of, there ought to be time for a handful of new pictures just to prove it’s still me (I’m not brave enough to take one now or I would, but even if I was I’d probably have to change out of my pyjamas and that’s a big ask) and hopefully everything will be smooth sailing. The phone is still off for now, but I’m aiming to check emails a little more often and I’ll update everything properly in a week when I know precisely what the plan is.

A topical and relatable (as well as eminently kitchen disco-worthy) Song Of The Week then, or for me anyway. I wonder if Robert Dyas sells tomahawks?

As ever, more soon. Lord, it’ll be good to be back…

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I’m (finally) back! And what a relief it is, even if it has meant needing to get out of bed before midday.

It’s been an interesting couple of weeks and lovely to see some friendly faces unadorned by masks – as somebody who takes lipreading for granted every time I’m called upon to function anywhere with more background noise than someone reading a newspaper, the last few weeks have been something of a challenge (and since it’s one I don’t have a hope of winning, a pad and pen has been added to my essential going out kit alongside the handgel, lip balm and emergency spork – you never know your luck).

The sunshine has allowed me to make the most of the low-key return and sticking to a handful of bookings means that once the cleaning is out of the way I’ve been taking my time to enjoy the weather and get some exercise, as well as a couple of (carefully planned – not much water) packed lunches with a book on the grass over by Tower Bridge prior to an exciting walk back by way of Waitrose and a few Pokémon battles around Fenchurch Street. I have also spent a couple of afternoons poking around the back streets looking for Sculpture in the City, culminating in a quiet half hour on the (currently deserted) steps of St Paul’s with the Evening Standard. Very pleasant indeed.

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I have also been making a few lists of local places to spend some money as soon as I have any spare, not least my hairdresser and myriad local cafés, but also the spa up the road; a proper massage is almost as close to the top of my list as a Big Mac and a sauna isn’t far behind it. Researching also took me back for the first time in ages to Patty and Bun, whose peanut butter choc ices and rosemary salted fat chips were at least in part responsible for my grudging first sign up to WeightWatchers back in the day (although not the subsequent ones which were due to circumstances entirely of my own making, or at least the scones, cakes and bread were) and I will be on my way over asap; while shopping isn’t an interest of mine, having been out and seen the sea of shiny new carrier bags I doubt my presence will be missed, and it was heartwarming to witness a bit of rampant consumerism for the first time in months.

As things gradually drift back to normal and the countdown to the reopening of hairdressers and cinemas continues I will be getting back – one step at a time – to my previous daily and weekly routines, starting with the coming weekend when King’s Cross station is predictably and reassuringly closed again for the East Coast engineering works; this means I will be in London for the duration thanks to all the trains being cancelled and so into next week – yay! It also means some rare availability on a Saturday (for possibly the last time in a few weeks) followed by Deliveroo, a rental film from Google Play and maybe a go on one of the Santander bikes from round the corner.

Sunday remains off limits as ever, but I’ll do my best to accommodate more visitors provided everybody is well spaced out – the steady trickle of local folk returning to work is getting steadier by the day, and a shortcut through to a Pokémon raid at the Gherkin around 5.30pm yesterday revealed a surprisingly average number of folk standing around the fringes of Leadenhall Market having a post-work beer, at least it surprised me to the extent that the sight of multiple people standing in groups was more unsettling than the tumbleweed streets of a couple of months ago, and I practically sprinted the last bit.

Availability is still limited given the extra-careful cleaning and laundry, but everything is ticking over fine and Song Of The Week is another all time favourite for the summer weather. Roll on July!

Well, the final hours of my free 30 day Prime trial are ticking away, and the box sets won’t watch themselves. The phone is back on as usual, so any enquiries – get in touch!

More soon…

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And an apology for those who were wanting to book towards the back end of last week, but even with an air-conditioned flat (thank God) the weather called a halt to doing anything but the bare minimum workwise in favour of getting outdoors to walk around in flip flops complaining about the heat.

In the meantime, the call I have been waiting for has finally come – admittedly not the one from the useless thundercunts at Santander about the bounceback loan I applied for some eight weeks ago so I could ‘quickly access emergency cash to support my business via a simple online form’ – but my hairdresser! My last visit was in mid-February so while it’s not a complete trainwreck, it’s definitely a matter of some urgency after last week’s sun especially and whilst I’ve managed the barnet as best I could, the relief is almost chewable. Given that my first visit in April 2019 took me fifteen years to work up to, nobody was more surprised than me that when the call finally came, the appointment was booked and the waiting started I was practically incoherent with joy, and I’m even looking forward to the walk up to Brick Lane on Saturday.

The news does mean that I’ll be in London for another weekend and it seems only right and proper that some side-plans be made; a list of things that are running out has been composed (and fingers crossed that Deciem is open), an itinerary planned (ditto Rokit Vintage, source of the very nice pink floral face mask I have for travelling now it’s too hot for my homemade-pyjama one) and various menus are being mulled over – Beigel Bake and the street food at Brick Lane Market are both looking likely assuming that sitting in the food hall with Kung Po chicken is on the approved list (and if it isn’t, there’s always the park after the graffiti alley). This is likely to be my last weekend in town for a while too, so anybody who may been tentatively planning a Saturday visit, now is the time to do it.

The settling-back-down continues apace, and with the news that FrightFest has been moved to October I can stop panicking about stumping up for a pass next weekend; Dead By Dawn has also jumped back to November necessitating another Edinburgh trip before Christmas – it’s a long way off, but a bit of forward planning never hurts and given that the London Film Festival ought to hopefully run to schedule, the Autumn onwards looks very promising indeed. Even Christmas is being tentatively planned, but admittedly more for something fun to think about for a change (likewise no concrete reopening date from the Prince Charles Cinema as yet, but I have no doubt they’ll be on the way).

Getting back to the present and a little less ahead of ourselves, I will be in London as usual until Friday week and then back home to have another try at a few hours on the beach after being thwarted this last weekend by thunder, lightening and pouring rain from pretty much an hour or so after I got back; since I forgot to bring my Factor 50 back with me it’s probably for the best. Plenty of summer left yet!

This weeks’ Song of the Week features Melle Mel and a lot of mopeds, and always makes me smile. The cycle path work here in the City (and likely everywhere else in town) is cracking on relentlessly, and whilst like so many things it’ll be lovely when it’s finished, the buses are stuffed. Do let me know if you’re using public transport to get here as the one way system between Monument and Bank is another rare delight at the moment if you’re planning on braving the Northern Line after you leave – as ever, there are ways (mopeds!)

Anyone who fancies getting in while my hair is still touchable would be well advised to do so in the next few days – I can’t guarantee your continued wellbeing if you maul it after the weekend. Fortunately mauling-wise, the rest of me is still here (and doesn’t mind at all).

More soon…