Yes, yes, yes I did recognise you in the restaurant and I did think I should have made it known. I would have thought that a respected actor might well appreciate being definitively recognised by nice strangers (we are such strangers) but that they would also be desirous for said strangers - whilst making it very clear that they recognise the actor - not to impede any further on their dinner, conversation, or any other part of the space in which the actor is evolving.
The problem is: how do you achieve this acknowledgment, yet uphold the ensuing necessary discretion, with the elegance of a retired ballet dancer? With most people there are only two initial settings in eye contact/body language. These are either: "I know you" or "I don't know you". Mark Rylance, an actor of your status could no doubt convey with an arched eyebrow the full text of "I know you and I like your work and I am really looking forward to seeing Jerusalem on 13 January 2012 - please do not suddenely lose your voice or break a leg on the 12th - but if you did that would be frankly typical of my luck - I mean Derek Jacobi lost his voice on the day we were supposed to be seeing his myth-making King Lear - and it was cancelled - which led to the mother of all hangovers the next day as, instead of watching a play we drank a couple of barrels of wine instead - you'd have thought we'd know better at our age but we never learn, Mark Rylance. We never learn. So we plough on, regardless. Keep up the good work and we will see you in the new year, whilst respecting your privacy in the here and now. But hey. We know you. We certainly know you and the pork pie hat was a helpful reminder, should one of our contact lenses have fallen out of our otherwise perky eyes. We just don't know how to communicate that without words."
Really. It is not cool for non-famous people to approach famous people. So Mark Rylance, next time we meet, nod your head, doff your hat, and then I can smile and wave at you with ease. But unless you give me the sign, you will be saved from meeting the plebian that is either of us. Which will have its upsides!
Love, M&T xxx
Monday 17 October 2011
Monday 5 September 2011
How to travel into the sofa
The holiday season is now well and truly over and so we sink into the despondency of the pre-winter grumpy slump that is September. It's like a giant lumpy sofa with too much textured fabric. You're stuck in it anyway and it's largely impossible to haul yourself out of it.
Cheer up! It could be worse. It's grey but it's not raining.
Travelling does broaden the mind but being small minded can be fun too. There's a special pleasure to be had in missing things on purpose. You know - you're in an exotic place and you can't be bothered to do the things that guidebooks the world over bug you to do. We did a list recently with two friends - and we discovered that we are champions at this.
We've been to Hanoi and not seen Halong Bay. To China, and not seen the Great Wall. To Japan, four times, and ignored Mount Fuji. To Australia three times, and avoided Uluru. To New Zealand twice, and not seen Milford Sound. Argentina was just as amazing without the Igazu Falls. In Katherine, in the middle of Oz, we avoided the gorge and spent time observing the high street instead.
Our friends beat us with a granddaddy of avoidance - they went to Egypt - and didn't see the Pyramids.
There would never be time to see everything. So, this September, visit the depth of the sofa - and enjoy every minute of it.
M&T xxx
Cheer up! It could be worse. It's grey but it's not raining.
Travelling does broaden the mind but being small minded can be fun too. There's a special pleasure to be had in missing things on purpose. You know - you're in an exotic place and you can't be bothered to do the things that guidebooks the world over bug you to do. We did a list recently with two friends - and we discovered that we are champions at this.
We've been to Hanoi and not seen Halong Bay. To China, and not seen the Great Wall. To Japan, four times, and ignored Mount Fuji. To Australia three times, and avoided Uluru. To New Zealand twice, and not seen Milford Sound. Argentina was just as amazing without the Igazu Falls. In Katherine, in the middle of Oz, we avoided the gorge and spent time observing the high street instead.
Our friends beat us with a granddaddy of avoidance - they went to Egypt - and didn't see the Pyramids.
There would never be time to see everything. So, this September, visit the depth of the sofa - and enjoy every minute of it.
M&T xxx
Monday 25 July 2011
Amy Winehouse - a London memory
Living in London you bump into *famous* people from time to time. *Stars in eyes!* Jo Brand squeezes past you at the theatre. You step on Ian Hislop's toes at the High Court (he was very nice about that). Amy Winehouse's sad death last Saturday reminds me of the one unexpected time that we happened to be in the same room together.
I have a underground employment practice, by which I mean that I help friends (as friends, not as clients) on issues arising out of the nefarious and slithery relationship between employer and employee. I am still very proud that in England & Wales we at least have a semblance of legislative protection in that area - but even in our little ole island this area is a dubious sand pit of abuse at the best of times.
Anyway a friend C had had a nightmare (which had its funny moments) with a bunch of breathtakingly disingenuous lawyers, whom we had battled for a few months and finally achieved some good. So we went to the Savoy bar for a drink to celebrate. This was before the refurbishment. The Savoy bar was eye wateringly expensive but atmospheric and pleasant. It probably stiull is. In the Age of Austerity I am giving it lots and lots of space to breathe. Any road, back then we fancied ourselves having an elegant glass as we quietly congratulated ourselves on not actually having punched anybody's face in, but used instead the twin virtues of patience and reason, even when faced with the most insidious provocation.
It was not a quiet night. We arrived to find a busy room. Disappointingly, a couple of senior corporate lawyers that I knew were plotting in a corner. That just about ruined the atmosphere, right there. Elegance died on the carpet. On such occasions, corporate tedium is more like a bad smell than anything else.
That was to the left of us. To the right was a boistrous bunch of people, just in from some afternoon awards event, or something of that ilk. And at the heart of the group was a little dark pixie, with impossibly bouffant hair, and eyeliner like coal seams. She was weaving around, quietly - I did not recognise her at first but as she brushed past me as we moved tables, she said quietly "All right, love" as if talking to a ghost - and I saw who she was. She was very tiny, frail and yet coiled as a tiger about to spring. She was not a soft touch - she snapped a bit viciously at someone else a few moments later (I think a question had been asked).
It all kicked off. Things got louder and louder. At one point, Amy wandered over to the Savoy's piano, and started caressing the keys. A flustered attendant rushed over to say "No. No. No". She did not insist but one of her entourage was particularly outraged and jabbed a finger at the attendant. "You are making a big mistake. A big mistake." he or she declared a la Pretty Woman. (The entourage were a blur of hangers on. They seemed interchangeable. I supposed our onlooker's focus was on the famous face. Amy's face was very strong, as we all know).
I could be wrong but I think Rob Brydon, the comedian, was there too.
The large group disappeared into the night, in a blur of noise, like a giant hive. The bee hive will be quieter now, always.
Love,
M&T x
I have a underground employment practice, by which I mean that I help friends (as friends, not as clients) on issues arising out of the nefarious and slithery relationship between employer and employee. I am still very proud that in England & Wales we at least have a semblance of legislative protection in that area - but even in our little ole island this area is a dubious sand pit of abuse at the best of times.
Anyway a friend C had had a nightmare (which had its funny moments) with a bunch of breathtakingly disingenuous lawyers, whom we had battled for a few months and finally achieved some good. So we went to the Savoy bar for a drink to celebrate. This was before the refurbishment. The Savoy bar was eye wateringly expensive but atmospheric and pleasant. It probably stiull is. In the Age of Austerity I am giving it lots and lots of space to breathe. Any road, back then we fancied ourselves having an elegant glass as we quietly congratulated ourselves on not actually having punched anybody's face in, but used instead the twin virtues of patience and reason, even when faced with the most insidious provocation.
It was not a quiet night. We arrived to find a busy room. Disappointingly, a couple of senior corporate lawyers that I knew were plotting in a corner. That just about ruined the atmosphere, right there. Elegance died on the carpet. On such occasions, corporate tedium is more like a bad smell than anything else.
That was to the left of us. To the right was a boistrous bunch of people, just in from some afternoon awards event, or something of that ilk. And at the heart of the group was a little dark pixie, with impossibly bouffant hair, and eyeliner like coal seams. She was weaving around, quietly - I did not recognise her at first but as she brushed past me as we moved tables, she said quietly "All right, love" as if talking to a ghost - and I saw who she was. She was very tiny, frail and yet coiled as a tiger about to spring. She was not a soft touch - she snapped a bit viciously at someone else a few moments later (I think a question had been asked).
It all kicked off. Things got louder and louder. At one point, Amy wandered over to the Savoy's piano, and started caressing the keys. A flustered attendant rushed over to say "No. No. No". She did not insist but one of her entourage was particularly outraged and jabbed a finger at the attendant. "You are making a big mistake. A big mistake." he or she declared a la Pretty Woman. (The entourage were a blur of hangers on. They seemed interchangeable. I supposed our onlooker's focus was on the famous face. Amy's face was very strong, as we all know).
I could be wrong but I think Rob Brydon, the comedian, was there too.
The large group disappeared into the night, in a blur of noise, like a giant hive. The bee hive will be quieter now, always.
Love,
M&T x
Tuesday 19 July 2011
Things that make you go "oooo"
This morning I passed an old lady who was heading to the eye hospital. She had been given a very boring looking white plastic eye patch. So she had stuck some colourful dried flowers on it.
It's the sort of thing that makes you do a double take. How does one put this - it did not - in any way - make things look any better. In fact, white plastic is hard to liven up at the best of times, let alone when cupped over some poor suppurating orb. But, on the other hand, bully for her. You're getting on a bit, you have a poor suppurating orb, you are instructed to cover it up with a giant guitar pick, and you glance at the mirror on the way out. "No," you think decisively, "No. This will not do."
It is a heroic effort to stick anything onto anything these days. Gluing well is something that takes practice. But she takes a decision to do something. She takes action. She sticks the flowers on. Making things better in one's own mind is brave and important.
I take my hat off to you, O Pirate of Moorrrrrrrfields. I hope the eye recovers.
Love,
M&T x
It's the sort of thing that makes you do a double take. How does one put this - it did not - in any way - make things look any better. In fact, white plastic is hard to liven up at the best of times, let alone when cupped over some poor suppurating orb. But, on the other hand, bully for her. You're getting on a bit, you have a poor suppurating orb, you are instructed to cover it up with a giant guitar pick, and you glance at the mirror on the way out. "No," you think decisively, "No. This will not do."
It is a heroic effort to stick anything onto anything these days. Gluing well is something that takes practice. But she takes a decision to do something. She takes action. She sticks the flowers on. Making things better in one's own mind is brave and important.
I take my hat off to you, O Pirate of Moorrrrrrrfields. I hope the eye recovers.
Love,
M&T x
Tuesday 21 June 2011
The Big Hedge Society
As it happens, we have gained responsibility for a large Afro-style hedge in a nice London square. This hedge is a beast. It is large and bushy and if you so much as ignore it for a second it sprouts like a crazy Amazonian patch. "Yee-haa", it goes, wildly flinging out stiff leafsome tentacles in all directions, a green firework frozen in time.
So every so often the ball and chain and I go down to trim the bush. It's one of those jobs that is a bit - how do we put this - better in the abstract than in practice. For starters, we do not really have the correct tools for the job. Old slightly rusty shears that spring open with alarming enthusiasm, slightly wonky clippers, a long handled slicy thing that neither of us can operate with any degree of precision. We are the Incapability Browns.
Still, we go at it patiently, armed with bins bags and brooms to clear up the rubbish.
It's the comments that get you.
One elderly gentleman thinks we do not tend it enough. He'll drag his scrawny carcass by, muttering vitriolically all the while. "About time, too" he'll grunt, "That thing is an eyesore!" An eyesore? Dear boy, what do you call a shanty town? I've taken him to task: "If in any way it bothers you, please feel free to trim it yourself". He backs down. Never trust a person wielding pointy shears. Another lady was slightly too interested in proceedings. She watched us with her child for just a little bit too long. I mean, we're not doing a show here. Finally, she said to her young one: "I wonder if she's going to make it into a shape?" I look away to roll my eyes. Make it into a shape? I can barely get it even. The child skips up: "Hello!" it breathes. "Are you going to make it into a shape?" I look down, teetering on my ladder: "Oh yes!" I say brightly, "I'm planning on it being a large nude lady!" This moves mother and child along.
We don't have to make it look especially nice - but we do our very best. If anyone out there sees people doing their very best whose best is manifestly not good enough, where possible, provided that they are not surgeons operating, just be kind, be silent and let them be. Silence can be as golden as autumn hedge leaves.
With love from the pink thumbed,
M&T x
So every so often the ball and chain and I go down to trim the bush. It's one of those jobs that is a bit - how do we put this - better in the abstract than in practice. For starters, we do not really have the correct tools for the job. Old slightly rusty shears that spring open with alarming enthusiasm, slightly wonky clippers, a long handled slicy thing that neither of us can operate with any degree of precision. We are the Incapability Browns.
Still, we go at it patiently, armed with bins bags and brooms to clear up the rubbish.
It's the comments that get you.
One elderly gentleman thinks we do not tend it enough. He'll drag his scrawny carcass by, muttering vitriolically all the while. "About time, too" he'll grunt, "That thing is an eyesore!" An eyesore? Dear boy, what do you call a shanty town? I've taken him to task: "If in any way it bothers you, please feel free to trim it yourself". He backs down. Never trust a person wielding pointy shears. Another lady was slightly too interested in proceedings. She watched us with her child for just a little bit too long. I mean, we're not doing a show here. Finally, she said to her young one: "I wonder if she's going to make it into a shape?" I look away to roll my eyes. Make it into a shape? I can barely get it even. The child skips up: "Hello!" it breathes. "Are you going to make it into a shape?" I look down, teetering on my ladder: "Oh yes!" I say brightly, "I'm planning on it being a large nude lady!" This moves mother and child along.
We don't have to make it look especially nice - but we do our very best. If anyone out there sees people doing their very best whose best is manifestly not good enough, where possible, provided that they are not surgeons operating, just be kind, be silent and let them be. Silence can be as golden as autumn hedge leaves.
With love from the pink thumbed,
M&T x
Monday 23 May 2011
Superinjunctions!
Given that there is as much flak flying around about superinjunctions as there is dust in the Sahara, the time may have come for another post with a legal tone. Superinjunctions were never meant to be permanent tools (unlike most of those who invoke their protection). They are supposed to be temporary relief measures. The aim is to secure information for short periods of time, with that confidentiality being carefully balanced against the need to have an open and public system of justice.
Judges are not infallible. Perhaps they have been too quick to grant protection to the undeserving. But it's not all about footballers playing away.
We're back to free speech - a vexed question. So obviously a good thing, and yet freedom of speech must be exercised responsibly. Actions have consequences. Peddling plain untruths - as we see happening in the States, with the Obama birth certificate nonsense a prime example - should be actively discouraged. We saw some of that over 'ere during the AV campaign, too.
However, exposing a sexual dalliance is not always OK - why should it be? It may however be OK sometimes - especially if hypocrisy is exposed by the disclosure. How can anyone seek to impose rules of behaviour on others - moral or social - if such rules manifestly cannot be complied with by those seeking to impose or uphold them?
Privacy and freedom of speech are not necessarily compatible. This makes for a good Venn diagram argument. How large is your overlap? Does freedom of speech trump privacy every time? Should it?
Good Lord. We are almost being deep. We now wade back into the shallows, with a pina colada safely in hand, watching a long stream of our handsome lovers doing the conga on the beach.
Love, M&Tx
Judges are not infallible. Perhaps they have been too quick to grant protection to the undeserving. But it's not all about footballers playing away.
We're back to free speech - a vexed question. So obviously a good thing, and yet freedom of speech must be exercised responsibly. Actions have consequences. Peddling plain untruths - as we see happening in the States, with the Obama birth certificate nonsense a prime example - should be actively discouraged. We saw some of that over 'ere during the AV campaign, too.
However, exposing a sexual dalliance is not always OK - why should it be? It may however be OK sometimes - especially if hypocrisy is exposed by the disclosure. How can anyone seek to impose rules of behaviour on others - moral or social - if such rules manifestly cannot be complied with by those seeking to impose or uphold them?
Privacy and freedom of speech are not necessarily compatible. This makes for a good Venn diagram argument. How large is your overlap? Does freedom of speech trump privacy every time? Should it?
Good Lord. We are almost being deep. We now wade back into the shallows, with a pina colada safely in hand, watching a long stream of our handsome lovers doing the conga on the beach.
Love, M&Tx
Thursday 19 May 2011
Reading, reading, and bookshop!
Tonight we proudly read at the Ritzy in Brixton - and on 15 June 2011 we are reading at the Albion pub in Barnsbury, Islington, at 7 pm. Come on over! You can also pick up Big Ben the book at Prowler, a fabulous and fun store in deepest Soho. The summer is coming and it's definitely time to pick up a read for the beach. "If not now, when?" as we always exclaim when passing a cake shop.
Love, M&T x
Love, M&T x
Friday 6 May 2011
Police in action
Don't you love a police horse? Chosen for size - so huge, lustrous beasts, with velvety noses the size of Dawn French. Anyway they do clip clop around and not just at football matches - but I'd never seen them do anything. Until yesterday.
Two big beasts appear and plod along the street, straddled by creatures in high visibility jackets. Lovely chestnut coats surmounted by neon yellow - eeek. Like a bad trip. A pink cyclist is tootling down the other way. The horses both stop. One of the riders extends a languid arm. "Stop" he says.
The cyclist looks up in complete surprise.
"One way street", says the policemna, finally, as if wakening from a long sleep.
The cyclist giggles - incredulity blended with nerves. We the passerbys boil with righteous indignation at the heinousness of her crime. Pray note that that's not altogether sarcastic. Cyclists that ignore the highway code are, simply, arseholes. But that's a pedestrian perspective.
"I'll dismount and walk" she offers, finally. Which she does, in haste and very quickly, head down.
That's right, Pinkie. Walk of shame.
So much to be said for zero tolerance.
Love, M&T xx
Two big beasts appear and plod along the street, straddled by creatures in high visibility jackets. Lovely chestnut coats surmounted by neon yellow - eeek. Like a bad trip. A pink cyclist is tootling down the other way. The horses both stop. One of the riders extends a languid arm. "Stop" he says.
The cyclist looks up in complete surprise.
"One way street", says the policemna, finally, as if wakening from a long sleep.
The cyclist giggles - incredulity blended with nerves. We the passerbys boil with righteous indignation at the heinousness of her crime. Pray note that that's not altogether sarcastic. Cyclists that ignore the highway code are, simply, arseholes. But that's a pedestrian perspective.
"I'll dismount and walk" she offers, finally. Which she does, in haste and very quickly, head down.
That's right, Pinkie. Walk of shame.
So much to be said for zero tolerance.
Love, M&T xx
Tuesday 3 May 2011
The Royal Wedding weekend is over...
... but the net chatter continues. One of my favourites is the Facebook fan page for "Princess Beatrice's ridiculous Royal Wedding hat" with over 127,000 fans so far. Of all the musings, catty comments and plain pointless blether, one Gregory Earls did make me laugh mightily as he managed to combine two of the unlikeliest structures known to man that have not featured on Discovery's "Megastructures" show.
In a surprising turn of events, it was announced today that a joint military British and US exercise is under way to secure Princess Beatrice's hat and breed it in captivity with Donald Trump's hair. Raytheon Researchers surmise that the resulting offspring not only serve as protective combat head gear, but would also serve as an extremely virulent weaponized coiffure capable of confusing and killing enemies from great distances..
Lots of love
M&T x
In a surprising turn of events, it was announced today that a joint military British and US exercise is under way to secure Princess Beatrice's hat and breed it in captivity with Donald Trump's hair. Raytheon Researchers surmise that the resulting offspring not only serve as protective combat head gear, but would also serve as an extremely virulent weaponized coiffure capable of confusing and killing enemies from great distances..
Lots of love
M&T x
Tuesday 26 April 2011
Wise men say
Some will remember this charming scene, which happened in a committee meeting. It does not matter which committtee. All committees, I sense, are largely the same, in their sweet inefficiency. Playgrounds for the elderly, often - men and women who can't let go, yet who don't know what they are holding onto.
I was sitting there munching biscuits when the first older person appeared.
Hello, he said.
Hello, I replied.
A companiable silence fell, as we awaited others.
Shall I put my hearing aid in?, he suddenly asked.
I stared at him in bemusement.
I don't usually wear it when I referee at hockey, he said pensively. His brow furrowed, and his face tightened.
Why should I, he asked, with passion. Why should I wear it, so I can hear them call me blind?
Love, M&T x
I was sitting there munching biscuits when the first older person appeared.
Hello, he said.
Hello, I replied.
A companiable silence fell, as we awaited others.
Shall I put my hearing aid in?, he suddenly asked.
I stared at him in bemusement.
I don't usually wear it when I referee at hockey, he said pensively. His brow furrowed, and his face tightened.
Why should I, he asked, with passion. Why should I wear it, so I can hear them call me blind?
Love, M&T x
Tuesday 19 April 2011
A cheeky China crisis
I don't know what made me think of this today but here's an 'orrible story about relative wealth. A few years ago, a friend's friend (urban myth alert - but we do trust the friend) was travelling in a remote part of China where the local villagers were poor. He was suffering, as one can do on travels, with a bit of a dicky stomach.
He found himself in need of the facilities and they took him to a toilet. It consisted of four waist high walls surrounding a succession of holes in the ground (these I have seen and used myself. It's not a treat.) He was desperate to go - so go he did. Then - no toilet paper. And - how do we put this - he really needed toilet paper. None anywhere. In desperation he scrabbled around in his pockets to finally alight on some currency. The notes had a value equivalent to around 10 English pence each. He thought about it briefly - but needs must. He set about cleaning himself.
A hair on his neck must have prickled. He suddenly turned around. There, on the hillside next to the toilet, what looked like the entire village had gathered. They had in fact not seen a Caucasian before, and their curiosity had got the better of them. They had watched him. They had watched him throughout. They had watched him wiping his bum -several times - with the equivalent of a day's salary.
He left on the next bus.
Love,
M&T xxx
He found himself in need of the facilities and they took him to a toilet. It consisted of four waist high walls surrounding a succession of holes in the ground (these I have seen and used myself. It's not a treat.) He was desperate to go - so go he did. Then - no toilet paper. And - how do we put this - he really needed toilet paper. None anywhere. In desperation he scrabbled around in his pockets to finally alight on some currency. The notes had a value equivalent to around 10 English pence each. He thought about it briefly - but needs must. He set about cleaning himself.
A hair on his neck must have prickled. He suddenly turned around. There, on the hillside next to the toilet, what looked like the entire village had gathered. They had in fact not seen a Caucasian before, and their curiosity had got the better of them. They had watched him. They had watched him throughout. They had watched him wiping his bum -several times - with the equivalent of a day's salary.
He left on the next bus.
Love,
M&T xxx
Monday 18 April 2011
Stupid spellcheck
On one of my occasional trawls through the blogosphere, I came across a guy ranting that spellcheck didn't have the faintest idea what he was going on about. Neither did I at first. Just what was a "conasewer"? But then he explained it. A serious expert.
First time I felt empathy for spellcheck.
Love
M & T x
First time I felt empathy for spellcheck.
Love
M & T x
Friday 15 April 2011
Sex symbol to the over 70s
I'm not complaining. I'm not. It is better to be a sex symbol to the over 70s than not to anyone at all. (I think).
It is good for people to still feel Spring rushing to their loins in the autumn of their years. Why not.
But still. How did Anna Nicole Smith do it?
We ask the questions, so you don't have to.
Love,
M&T xxx
It is good for people to still feel Spring rushing to their loins in the autumn of their years. Why not.
But still. How did Anna Nicole Smith do it?
We ask the questions, so you don't have to.
Love,
M&T xxx
Long live live music
This week has been a long one. But there have been some highlights. Managed to go to a gig in a local pub on Wednesday. It was absolutely excellent. Talented people playing good - even brilliant - songs. There was a crowd but people weren't packed in like sardines. London offers so much of this kind of stuff. Maybe we do take it too much for granted.
Live music is outstanding. Hearing people sing their songs, stop, start, crack a joke, explain something, set a song in context - you can't beat it. Being able to tell them that they are good face to face. Not that they need us to tell them that.
I don't like big arena venues. On Wednesday it felt as perfect a live music session as I've been to in a while. We need to make sure there is money around to allow good people to do this.
Love,
M&T xxx
Live music is outstanding. Hearing people sing their songs, stop, start, crack a joke, explain something, set a song in context - you can't beat it. Being able to tell them that they are good face to face. Not that they need us to tell them that.
I don't like big arena venues. On Wednesday it felt as perfect a live music session as I've been to in a while. We need to make sure there is money around to allow good people to do this.
Love,
M&T xxx
Friday 8 April 2011
Lost in translation
The magic of language. Mrs W described to us yesterday a marvellous translation on the side of wine boxes from the splendid Loire valley in France. The boxes proudly proclaimed that the wine came from "le jardin des letters francaises". Which of course was painstakingly translated on the opposite side of the box as wine coming from "the garden of French letters".
Oooh, I say. Make mine a large one.
Love, M&T xxx
Oooh, I say. Make mine a large one.
Love, M&T xxx
Monday 4 April 2011
Food, food, food
We've been thinking a bit about food in recent weeks. There's been a spate of stuff in the papers about actresses and models who indulge in apparent displays of conspicuous eating when interviewed. (You know the sort of thing: "Naomi Campbell wolfed down a large piece of chocolate cake". "Nicole Kidman devoured the chips and then licked the butter plate clean." "Is that all?" wondered David Tennant, holding up the half buffalo carcass.)
Fact: you can eat a great deal and stay slim if you don't eat a helluva lot the whole time. A friend - a gorgeous slim girl called Jenny who is now a gorgeous old crone called Jenny (sorry, Jenny. I meant a gorgeous middle aged crone) used to happily scoff chocolate eclairs by the packet-full. But then she did not eat anything else all day. Those of us who were plumper observed without too much difficulties that whilst we may only have had the one eclair, we also had breakfast, elevenses, lunch, early tea, late tea, high tea, dinner and supper too.
Eat a bit of everything all the time. Especially that really thin pretty girl I saw on the bus. You need to eat a little more and you would be even lovelier. There is a balance to be struck and whatever anyone says, it's better to have a bottom.
Love to all the bottom feeders,
M&T xxx
Fact: you can eat a great deal and stay slim if you don't eat a helluva lot the whole time. A friend - a gorgeous slim girl called Jenny who is now a gorgeous old crone called Jenny (sorry, Jenny. I meant a gorgeous middle aged crone) used to happily scoff chocolate eclairs by the packet-full. But then she did not eat anything else all day. Those of us who were plumper observed without too much difficulties that whilst we may only have had the one eclair, we also had breakfast, elevenses, lunch, early tea, late tea, high tea, dinner and supper too.
Eat a bit of everything all the time. Especially that really thin pretty girl I saw on the bus. You need to eat a little more and you would be even lovelier. There is a balance to be struck and whatever anyone says, it's better to have a bottom.
Love to all the bottom feeders,
M&T xxx
Monday 28 March 2011
Berlin
Cold in Berlin this weekend - brrr. Cold, but bright sunshine
We were turned away from a club! Very funny. The fifteen year old at the front desk allowed one of us in (me, of course, being a lady, with a lady's name) but only because she thought that I was "with Mario". Mario was standing right behind me and he had an afro. He looked really nice but we were both slightly perplexed at our sudden association.
When she realised that I was not with Mario she looked horrified, but stroked my arm and gestured me inside. That was when I had to come clean. "Nein, ich habe freunden" I mumbled slightly helplessly. How many, she asked. "Sieben". "SIEBEN!!!"
Oh my. Seven people all at once. She was struck helpless by this concept. She shook her head with great sadness. "Es tut mir leid, es tut mir leid..." Ich auch, sweetie.
So off we headed to another venue which was on the verge of turning us away when inspiration struck. Just like at school. "You can't turn us away. It's her birthday." A big doorful of a man looked relatively unmoved, but was curious enough to ask: "Do you have ID, to show this?"
No ID - but - ta-daaaa! We whipped the freshly opened birthday card poking out of S's handbag out into the open and waved it triumphantly in his face, like a small squadron of Hercule Poirots. "Why would she have this to hand, if it wasn't her birthday?"
He let us in.
O frabjous day.
M&Txxx
We were turned away from a club! Very funny. The fifteen year old at the front desk allowed one of us in (me, of course, being a lady, with a lady's name) but only because she thought that I was "with Mario". Mario was standing right behind me and he had an afro. He looked really nice but we were both slightly perplexed at our sudden association.
When she realised that I was not with Mario she looked horrified, but stroked my arm and gestured me inside. That was when I had to come clean. "Nein, ich habe freunden" I mumbled slightly helplessly. How many, she asked. "Sieben". "SIEBEN!!!"
Oh my. Seven people all at once. She was struck helpless by this concept. She shook her head with great sadness. "Es tut mir leid, es tut mir leid..." Ich auch, sweetie.
So off we headed to another venue which was on the verge of turning us away when inspiration struck. Just like at school. "You can't turn us away. It's her birthday." A big doorful of a man looked relatively unmoved, but was curious enough to ask: "Do you have ID, to show this?"
No ID - but - ta-daaaa! We whipped the freshly opened birthday card poking out of S's handbag out into the open and waved it triumphantly in his face, like a small squadron of Hercule Poirots. "Why would she have this to hand, if it wasn't her birthday?"
He let us in.
O frabjous day.
M&Txxx
Wednesday 23 March 2011
Budget Day! And Book Launch Day!
The excitement never ends here at Mel and Tim Towers.
It's the Budget. There is a chance that you may not realise just how much fun tax really is. Let's have a look at VAT (yay, I hear you cry).
The following is true.
For VAT purposes, biscuits wholly or partly covered in chocolate are standard rated.
Alll other biscuits are zero rated.
Cake is zero rated.
How do you tell the difference between cake and biscuit?
I'm glad you asked.
On going stale,
- cake goes hard
- biscuits go soft
Isn't that lovely?
See you later tonight!
M&T x
It's the Budget. There is a chance that you may not realise just how much fun tax really is. Let's have a look at VAT (yay, I hear you cry).
The following is true.
For VAT purposes, biscuits wholly or partly covered in chocolate are standard rated.
Alll other biscuits are zero rated.
Cake is zero rated.
How do you tell the difference between cake and biscuit?
I'm glad you asked.
On going stale,
- cake goes hard
- biscuits go soft
Isn't that lovely?
See you later tonight!
M&T x
Tuesday 22 March 2011
Book launch tomorrow 23 March 2011
Come on over for a drink! The Dalston Superstore is a fine and fun bar with good food and drink. The event starts at 7 pm and we'll do a quick reading shortly thereafter so please be there to mock us and laugh.
117 Kingsland High Street, London E8 2PB. It's has a large awning and you need to look out for it as - like so many great places, it is almost hidden from view. No 115 just next door is very obviously numbered, though, and the bar is opposite a Tesco. Soon EVERYTHING will be opposite a Tesco - but for the time being it's still a fairly good landmark to watch out for.
See you there in your glad rags!
Love, M&T xxx
117 Kingsland High Street, London E8 2PB. It's has a large awning and you need to look out for it as - like so many great places, it is almost hidden from view. No 115 just next door is very obviously numbered, though, and the bar is opposite a Tesco. Soon EVERYTHING will be opposite a Tesco - but for the time being it's still a fairly good landmark to watch out for.
See you there in your glad rags!
Love, M&T xxx
The flutter of a moth
Moths spell death from above for everything woolly (except sheep, who nobly withstand the little buggers).
We had moths in the office and lo! A lovely ginger exterminator visited. Pests in offices are very common (insert joke about harassment here) - but moths were a new one.
I cornered the ginger exterminator (insert second joke about harassement here) and asked him for the low-down on moths. I'll pass on what he said. This is a housekeeping magazine moment - but it may be useful, so here goes.
The problem is that sprays and stuff do not kill the larvae. The moth larvae are the small white worms you might have seen on your ex-favourite jumper. They are very difficult to exterminate. That is why it's so hard to tackle moths.
What you do is kill all the flying ones in the hope that they don't lay more eggs. But you also need to get on your hands and knees and hoover up the little white squirmy things (avoiding hoovering up your husband at this time). That's the bit that I didn't know. You've got to kill not just the adults, but all the children too.
So it's not just a spray around that is needed. By the way, the exterminator told me that any spray that kills flying things will kill moths. Do not spend more than you need to. According to him the most basic supermarket essential does the trick as well as the most sophisticated packaged - and pricey - product. As he was actually employed by a pricey exterminating outfit, I thought this was as close to a rebellion as you can get. Truth will out in the midst of the brain whirling crisis that is clearing pests from business premises.
If any of you have suffered the disappointment of something beautiful and warm turned into a holey cheese of a garment, I suspect that this will have been worth reading. Sorry to everyone else.
Love, M&Txxx
We had moths in the office and lo! A lovely ginger exterminator visited. Pests in offices are very common (insert joke about harassment here) - but moths were a new one.
I cornered the ginger exterminator (insert second joke about harassement here) and asked him for the low-down on moths. I'll pass on what he said. This is a housekeeping magazine moment - but it may be useful, so here goes.
The problem is that sprays and stuff do not kill the larvae. The moth larvae are the small white worms you might have seen on your ex-favourite jumper. They are very difficult to exterminate. That is why it's so hard to tackle moths.
What you do is kill all the flying ones in the hope that they don't lay more eggs. But you also need to get on your hands and knees and hoover up the little white squirmy things (avoiding hoovering up your husband at this time). That's the bit that I didn't know. You've got to kill not just the adults, but all the children too.
So it's not just a spray around that is needed. By the way, the exterminator told me that any spray that kills flying things will kill moths. Do not spend more than you need to. According to him the most basic supermarket essential does the trick as well as the most sophisticated packaged - and pricey - product. As he was actually employed by a pricey exterminating outfit, I thought this was as close to a rebellion as you can get. Truth will out in the midst of the brain whirling crisis that is clearing pests from business premises.
If any of you have suffered the disappointment of something beautiful and warm turned into a holey cheese of a garment, I suspect that this will have been worth reading. Sorry to everyone else.
Love, M&Txxx
Saturday 19 March 2011
Fantastic Mr or Ms Fox
For those in London - isn't it a beautiful day? The sun is streaming through the windows and warming the pavements.
We have a garden, where we frequently go for one of us to have a fag and the other to plot world domination. It's not a big place - just a patch of stone with beds around the side - but it's a good spot. A fox shares this view as he has set up home at the end of it. There is a big dark tunnel at the end to one side, where he or she lives. Occasionally we run into each other and the fox always looks mildly indignant that we are imposing on it.
There has been a development. This morning I saw a neat grey minibus with "Fox Transport" on it, and a small silhouette of a fox on the side. I have a horrible feeling our ginger friend has set up a business locally. It's a breach of all covenants of use on the property. I also have visions of being left helpless as the fox becomes the Norbert Dentressangle of North London. Next time I look out, I fully expect a small business centre to have sprung up, teeming with industrious wildlife.
M&T x
We have a garden, where we frequently go for one of us to have a fag and the other to plot world domination. It's not a big place - just a patch of stone with beds around the side - but it's a good spot. A fox shares this view as he has set up home at the end of it. There is a big dark tunnel at the end to one side, where he or she lives. Occasionally we run into each other and the fox always looks mildly indignant that we are imposing on it.
There has been a development. This morning I saw a neat grey minibus with "Fox Transport" on it, and a small silhouette of a fox on the side. I have a horrible feeling our ginger friend has set up a business locally. It's a breach of all covenants of use on the property. I also have visions of being left helpless as the fox becomes the Norbert Dentressangle of North London. Next time I look out, I fully expect a small business centre to have sprung up, teeming with industrious wildlife.
M&T x
Thursday 17 March 2011
Happy St Patrick's Day
From BL, with thanks, a lovely musical moment:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZAg0lUYHHFc
I attended a business dinner yesterday at which I quizzed somebody (who had already declared that he followed "absolute morality", that the Rule of Law was a distraction, and - when I asked where he got his unshakeable moral values from - rolled his eyes heavens-ward and pointed upwards) what his thoughts were on gay marriage.
You can never be disappointed with such creatures: "OUTRAGEOUS!" he hissed.
Marvellous stuff. I wonder what adjectives he has in reserve for (say) someone firing on their own people?
(He was right, though. We were in a basement dining room - and blow me down if I did not find absolute morality on the ground floor, at the bar, having a Pilsner.)
Love to all you cheeky leprechauns out there,
Mel and Tim x
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZAg0lUYHHFc
I attended a business dinner yesterday at which I quizzed somebody (who had already declared that he followed "absolute morality", that the Rule of Law was a distraction, and - when I asked where he got his unshakeable moral values from - rolled his eyes heavens-ward and pointed upwards) what his thoughts were on gay marriage.
You can never be disappointed with such creatures: "OUTRAGEOUS!" he hissed.
Marvellous stuff. I wonder what adjectives he has in reserve for (say) someone firing on their own people?
(He was right, though. We were in a basement dining room - and blow me down if I did not find absolute morality on the ground floor, at the bar, having a Pilsner.)
Love to all you cheeky leprechauns out there,
Mel and Tim x
Tuesday 15 March 2011
Lipstick and your dollar
Lipstick sales go up in a recession. Or is it because people like us read that and obediently trot out to buy lippy, in a self-fulfilling bee-kissed prophecy? I ran out of the shade I adventure to wear, so I braved the ladies in department stores spraying one with unforeseen subtances to get to the (Chanel) counter.
Why, of course Chanel. Do you think I am a cheap panic buyer?
This is what occurred. The all powerful woman wizard on the Chanel counter stared at my small lipstick and said "Where did you get that?"
Dunno. It's - er - Chanel and it says - er - Chanel.
"I have never seen this" she says.
OK. That's a good start. Bless her - she did try - garlanding her hand with every shade on offer. Finally, we hit on a shade that is almost - but not quite - there. She paints my lips in religious silence. It's all bright red and looks a bit silly at 12:30 noon. I try to please and say - "Fine. I'll grab one of these as a tide over."
Oh no I won't. She looks at me, and kindly says: "It's out of stock."
I leave you with the thought that nude lips may soon be in.
Love, M&T x
Why, of course Chanel. Do you think I am a cheap panic buyer?
This is what occurred. The all powerful woman wizard on the Chanel counter stared at my small lipstick and said "Where did you get that?"
Dunno. It's - er - Chanel and it says - er - Chanel.
"I have never seen this" she says.
OK. That's a good start. Bless her - she did try - garlanding her hand with every shade on offer. Finally, we hit on a shade that is almost - but not quite - there. She paints my lips in religious silence. It's all bright red and looks a bit silly at 12:30 noon. I try to please and say - "Fine. I'll grab one of these as a tide over."
Oh no I won't. She looks at me, and kindly says: "It's out of stock."
I leave you with the thought that nude lips may soon be in.
Love, M&T x
Monday 14 March 2011
Mother's Day - 3 April 2011
Dear cherubic offspring of many, many wombs with a view,
Mother's Day approaches and we are here to remind you to book now to make it a special occasion for your Mamma.
If you don't plan, dear readers, things go wrong. I'll confess that one year we forgot to book somewhere to take Mrs K to lunch. We remembered on the Friday evening before the Sunday of lillies and roses that is Mother's Day. So we called up. Restaurant after restaurant - pubs, bistros, chains and posh venues. They sneered, laughed or clucked disapprovingly at us down the line. "Don't you know", said a thousand incredulous booking persons, "that it's Mother's Day?"
(We rather do know, thank you very much - why do you think we're trying to book?)
We did get a table in the end - at the Pizza Express in Whetstone. I swear nowhere else had room at the Inn. It's... biblical stuff.
All I will say is you should have seen the look on Mrs K's face. I like Pizza Express, they do a fine pizza, but they did not help us by having a huge pink sign outside that announced "Because you love your Mum - and because your Mum loves pizza."
Mrs K mentioned at some point during the lunch that she would rather be dead. It's OK, we cheered her up, with a fine chianti (well, a chianti anyway) - but heed this cautionary tale. If you can - book while you're ahead.
See you on Wednesday 23rd March at the launch,
Love, M&T x
Mother's Day approaches and we are here to remind you to book now to make it a special occasion for your Mamma.
If you don't plan, dear readers, things go wrong. I'll confess that one year we forgot to book somewhere to take Mrs K to lunch. We remembered on the Friday evening before the Sunday of lillies and roses that is Mother's Day. So we called up. Restaurant after restaurant - pubs, bistros, chains and posh venues. They sneered, laughed or clucked disapprovingly at us down the line. "Don't you know", said a thousand incredulous booking persons, "that it's Mother's Day?"
(We rather do know, thank you very much - why do you think we're trying to book?)
We did get a table in the end - at the Pizza Express in Whetstone. I swear nowhere else had room at the Inn. It's... biblical stuff.
All I will say is you should have seen the look on Mrs K's face. I like Pizza Express, they do a fine pizza, but they did not help us by having a huge pink sign outside that announced "Because you love your Mum - and because your Mum loves pizza."
Mrs K mentioned at some point during the lunch that she would rather be dead. It's OK, we cheered her up, with a fine chianti (well, a chianti anyway) - but heed this cautionary tale. If you can - book while you're ahead.
See you on Wednesday 23rd March at the launch,
Love, M&T x
Saturday 12 March 2011
Launch party details confirmed
Come and join us on Wednesday 23rd March 2011 from 7pm till late at the:
Dalston Superstore
117 Kingsland High Street
London E8 2PB
to celebrate the book launch and all good things!
See you there,
Mel and Tim x
Dalston Superstore
117 Kingsland High Street
London E8 2PB
to celebrate the book launch and all good things!
See you there,
Mel and Tim x
Sunday 6 February 2011
Launch party details coming soon
We will be announcing the venue and date for the launch party very soon.
Sunday 2 January 2011
Watch this space
We are now heavily pregnant with our first offspring. Large and male and will be called Big Ben. We are expecting to show Big Ben off to the world towards the end of March and will be throwing a marvellous party to celebrate.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)