My poppies
When I got back from my lovely holidays on Monday, there was a huge poppy in the front garden.
I am a fan of poppies generally, but I was excited about this one in particular because it grew from a set of runty little root cuttings that I planted last year. They came from B&Q -- it took me a while to realise that B&Q is possibly not the best place to buy top quality plants -- with a hosta and a dicentra spectablis which both died immediately.
But two of the four poppy root cuttings made it, and by far more luck than judgement are also well placed in the garden, in front of a rose which hasn't flowered yet and bearded irises which have just finished.
Oriental poppies are splendid things. The buds are big, tight and furry (like puppies' testicles, said Roger), and then overnight they pop open into huge flimsy blowsy flowers in an almost impossible shade of red.
Now there are six, and there are another six at least to open. I have been taking photos of them next to my head to show how big they are. The world is a better place for them.
joella
Friday, May 30, 2003
Charlotte
On the third day of our holidays, my parents and I went on an all day boat trip to the beaches and islands near Fethiye.
A bus came to pick us up, then picked up lots of other people as well. Near the end we waited for ages for a family with a small boy called Oscar and two daughters. The older one, who was about nine or ten, was called Charlotte and she struggled onto the bus carrying a bag about as big as she was.
Once on the boat, it soon transpired that Charlotte could do no right, in fact it appeared that everything was her fault, including the fact that she got sunburnt. Her parents had a go at her at every possible opportunity, whatever she did or didn't do. At one point we heard them telling her she was ruining their holiday which had cost a lot of money, and she had a week and a half to make amends for this. Throughout, Oscar grizzled.
At the end of the day they didn't get back on the bus, but instead wandered off dysfunctionally into Fethiye itself. I felt sad as I watched Charlotte tailing along at the back, and wished we could take her back with us to give her aftersun and ice cream.
A couple of nights later, my dad and I were up late having a beer (I think it was the night the internet was 'broken' after the storm). Charlotte came up in the conversation. I wish they'd got back on the bus, he said. I wanted to have a quiet word with her dad.
What?! I said.
Yeah, he said. I wanted to say, I've got two grown up daughters, one's 33 and one's 29, and they've both come on holiday with me. The way you're going pal, do you think you'll ever be able to say that?
Brought a huge lump to my throat, that did.
joella
On the third day of our holidays, my parents and I went on an all day boat trip to the beaches and islands near Fethiye.
A bus came to pick us up, then picked up lots of other people as well. Near the end we waited for ages for a family with a small boy called Oscar and two daughters. The older one, who was about nine or ten, was called Charlotte and she struggled onto the bus carrying a bag about as big as she was.
Once on the boat, it soon transpired that Charlotte could do no right, in fact it appeared that everything was her fault, including the fact that she got sunburnt. Her parents had a go at her at every possible opportunity, whatever she did or didn't do. At one point we heard them telling her she was ruining their holiday which had cost a lot of money, and she had a week and a half to make amends for this. Throughout, Oscar grizzled.
At the end of the day they didn't get back on the bus, but instead wandered off dysfunctionally into Fethiye itself. I felt sad as I watched Charlotte tailing along at the back, and wished we could take her back with us to give her aftersun and ice cream.
A couple of nights later, my dad and I were up late having a beer (I think it was the night the internet was 'broken' after the storm). Charlotte came up in the conversation. I wish they'd got back on the bus, he said. I wanted to have a quiet word with her dad.
What?! I said.
Yeah, he said. I wanted to say, I've got two grown up daughters, one's 33 and one's 29, and they've both come on holiday with me. The way you're going pal, do you think you'll ever be able to say that?
Brought a huge lump to my throat, that did.
joella
Thursday, May 22, 2003
Sun, sea, sand and none of the other thank you very much
Well the jolly hols proceed apace, and I am liking Turkey just as much as I have on previous visits, although it doesn't feel right being here without Mr B (who lives in Istanbul). I keep looking at my parents and doing a double take -- am I really on holiday with you? I would probably do the same for my sister but she's mostly asleep.
Everyone is very friendly, the food is fantastic and the weather is sublime: sunny and windy and not too hot. I am definitely feeling some of the downsides of being on a package thing, which is basically like living in a bubble, but it's a very comfortable and chilled out bubble, which is good, and I wouldn't want it any other way with the parentals.
And you aren't exactly guaranteed authentic 'experiences' (man) when trogging round with a backpack, just guaranteed a cheaper and bumpier time. They are running a business here, they are doing a very good job of it, and everyone's a winner, right?
(not sure, need to think about this more)
As a slightly related aside, the waiters must succeed sometimes, or they wouldn't be so doggedly persistent. I wonder what the ratio is -- how many nos to a yes?
joella
Well the jolly hols proceed apace, and I am liking Turkey just as much as I have on previous visits, although it doesn't feel right being here without Mr B (who lives in Istanbul). I keep looking at my parents and doing a double take -- am I really on holiday with you? I would probably do the same for my sister but she's mostly asleep.
Everyone is very friendly, the food is fantastic and the weather is sublime: sunny and windy and not too hot. I am definitely feeling some of the downsides of being on a package thing, which is basically like living in a bubble, but it's a very comfortable and chilled out bubble, which is good, and I wouldn't want it any other way with the parentals.
And you aren't exactly guaranteed authentic 'experiences' (man) when trogging round with a backpack, just guaranteed a cheaper and bumpier time. They are running a business here, they are doing a very good job of it, and everyone's a winner, right?
(not sure, need to think about this more)
As a slightly related aside, the waiters must succeed sometimes, or they wouldn't be so doggedly persistent. I wonder what the ratio is -- how many nos to a yes?
joella
Tuesday, May 20, 2003
Viva Turkey
You really can get internet access anywhere these days. Along with several pools. more bars, and general holiday-style ambience, our hotel boasts an internet room. Only one of its two PCs works, and that not very fast, but still, how the world has changed.
And we are having a lovely time so far, though my sister is still a little stressed. And I am wondering just how old you have to be before Turkish waiters stop trying to hit on you. Thus far I have resisted, and I have also discovered some marvellous mixed salad flavour crisps. They've got to be good for you, right?
Okay, got to go, my dad is waiting and he wants More Beer.
joella
You really can get internet access anywhere these days. Along with several pools. more bars, and general holiday-style ambience, our hotel boasts an internet room. Only one of its two PCs works, and that not very fast, but still, how the world has changed.
And we are having a lovely time so far, though my sister is still a little stressed. And I am wondering just how old you have to be before Turkish waiters stop trying to hit on you. Thus far I have resisted, and I have also discovered some marvellous mixed salad flavour crisps. They've got to be good for you, right?
Okay, got to go, my dad is waiting and he wants More Beer.
joella
Sunday, May 18, 2003
God bless Miss Selfridge
When I was a teenager in Blackpool, I used to buy most of my clothes at Miss Selfridge (warning: dodgy website that opens many windows and contains not a great deal of information). It was cheap, it was in your face and it was very cool.
And it still is, but I am not, and for the last few years I have done nothing more than stick my nose up against the window and dream (in passing -- this is not an obsession) of being young enough and stick thin enough to get away with wearing whatever type of flourescent multi coloured rags are currently the thing.
But on Saturday I went shopping for my hols, and encouraged by the fact that they now do size 16 (and size 6 -- neither of which sizes existed in teenagers in the 80s), I ventured in.
I didn't even need a size 16, which was extremely pleasing, and I bought a watermelon coloured vest, a khaki vest, a pink top with one side gathered up and the most fantastic pair of green trousers with satin bits, which are slightly too long, but can be used to do that pavement sweeping thing. All for thirty quid. Brilliant.
I may of course look ridiculous, but I can't quite tell. And as I am going with my parents, perhaps subsconsiously I feel that dressing like a teenager is appropriate. We shall see.
I've got to get up in three hours to catch the bus to Gatwick, with my shiny holiday clothes and six novels all packed. I am hoping for an internet cafe so I can blog in Turkey, but otherwise back in a week.
joella
When I was a teenager in Blackpool, I used to buy most of my clothes at Miss Selfridge (warning: dodgy website that opens many windows and contains not a great deal of information). It was cheap, it was in your face and it was very cool.
And it still is, but I am not, and for the last few years I have done nothing more than stick my nose up against the window and dream (in passing -- this is not an obsession) of being young enough and stick thin enough to get away with wearing whatever type of flourescent multi coloured rags are currently the thing.
But on Saturday I went shopping for my hols, and encouraged by the fact that they now do size 16 (and size 6 -- neither of which sizes existed in teenagers in the 80s), I ventured in.
I didn't even need a size 16, which was extremely pleasing, and I bought a watermelon coloured vest, a khaki vest, a pink top with one side gathered up and the most fantastic pair of green trousers with satin bits, which are slightly too long, but can be used to do that pavement sweeping thing. All for thirty quid. Brilliant.
I may of course look ridiculous, but I can't quite tell. And as I am going with my parents, perhaps subsconsiously I feel that dressing like a teenager is appropriate. We shall see.
I've got to get up in three hours to catch the bus to Gatwick, with my shiny holiday clothes and six novels all packed. I am hoping for an internet cafe so I can blog in Turkey, but otherwise back in a week.
joella
Friday, May 16, 2003
Dinner with Radiohead
It all sounded so promising.
I have written about Aziz, his fabulous restaurant and his long-time acquaintance with Miles before (back on November 22 last year). Last time we were in there he was name dropping that Radiohead (sometime Aziz regulars, apparently) were coming to his fundraising evening.
Oooh, said Miles, can we come too? So he took our phone number and said he would ring and let us know.
And the night before, he did. Would we like to come and fundraise with Radiohead? Of course we bloody would. Smart lounge suit, he said. Fine, we said.
So on Tuesday night, S and I were scrabbling round looking for posh clothes and make up, and Miles was wailing because his nearly-only-tie had a big food stain on it.
I emerged wearing my scarf pashmina-style and looking rather elegant, I thought, but S laughed her socks off at me and said I looked like the posh woman across the road. She had enormous hair and high heeled boots on, and was looking very rock chick apart from the fact that she couldn't actually walk properly. We recruited C the sax player from the Limitations as number four, as unlike S's Quiet Man he a) has a suit and b) likes Radiohead.
And off we went.
When we arrived we felt profoundly self-conscious. Where should we sit? Sit anywhere you feel comfortable, said Aziz, how about over there in the corner behind that pillar? So we trotted off there and watched as the place filled up with civic dignitaries and people who looked like estate agents and estate agents' wives. (These people turned out actually to be estate agents and estate agents' wives).
Where were Radiohead? Where, in fact, was anyone under 50 who was not wearing one of the following: loud tie, novelty cufflinks, dress with no straps a couple of sizes too small?
Hmmm. But we liked the family we were seated with, who were also probably more comfortable at the back, we ate our unquestionably delicious dinner, and then it was time for the speeches.
There are some people who couldn't make it, said Aziz. Radiohead, they haven't managed to come. But we do have another very good local band here, we haven't got Radiohead, but we do have the Limitations!
And everyone clapped.
Later on, a football that doesn't actually exist yet but that will definitely be signed by Manchester United when it does was auctioned for £350, we all got a chocolate moulded in the shape of a position from the Kama Sutra, and one of the loud tie brigade offered to sing American Pie if someone donated £50. Foolishly, someone did.
Finally, Aziz insisted that Miles got up to sing, as the resident rock star. We all wanted to die on his behalf, but he survived the experience by insisting on a duet of Hound Dog with Aziz himself, who had offered to sing Elvis earlier in the evening.
Surreal is a much over-used word, but I think it is genuinely valid in this case. We were had by a pro.
But if Aziz hadn't told us that Radiohead were coming, we probably wouldn't have gone, and the Centre for the Rehabilitation of the Paralysed in Bangladesh, an undoubtedly good cause, wouldn't have had all our jelly and treasure hunt money and more besides.
And if Radiohead *had* been there, we probably wouldn't have laughed nearly so much. Also, Thom Yorke would have had to get up and sing an Elvis song instead, which might well have finished him off.
So if you look at it like that, everyone's a winner.
joella
It all sounded so promising.
I have written about Aziz, his fabulous restaurant and his long-time acquaintance with Miles before (back on November 22 last year). Last time we were in there he was name dropping that Radiohead (sometime Aziz regulars, apparently) were coming to his fundraising evening.
Oooh, said Miles, can we come too? So he took our phone number and said he would ring and let us know.
And the night before, he did. Would we like to come and fundraise with Radiohead? Of course we bloody would. Smart lounge suit, he said. Fine, we said.
So on Tuesday night, S and I were scrabbling round looking for posh clothes and make up, and Miles was wailing because his nearly-only-tie had a big food stain on it.
I emerged wearing my scarf pashmina-style and looking rather elegant, I thought, but S laughed her socks off at me and said I looked like the posh woman across the road. She had enormous hair and high heeled boots on, and was looking very rock chick apart from the fact that she couldn't actually walk properly. We recruited C the sax player from the Limitations as number four, as unlike S's Quiet Man he a) has a suit and b) likes Radiohead.
And off we went.
When we arrived we felt profoundly self-conscious. Where should we sit? Sit anywhere you feel comfortable, said Aziz, how about over there in the corner behind that pillar? So we trotted off there and watched as the place filled up with civic dignitaries and people who looked like estate agents and estate agents' wives. (These people turned out actually to be estate agents and estate agents' wives).
Where were Radiohead? Where, in fact, was anyone under 50 who was not wearing one of the following: loud tie, novelty cufflinks, dress with no straps a couple of sizes too small?
Hmmm. But we liked the family we were seated with, who were also probably more comfortable at the back, we ate our unquestionably delicious dinner, and then it was time for the speeches.
There are some people who couldn't make it, said Aziz. Radiohead, they haven't managed to come. But we do have another very good local band here, we haven't got Radiohead, but we do have the Limitations!
And everyone clapped.
Later on, a football that doesn't actually exist yet but that will definitely be signed by Manchester United when it does was auctioned for £350, we all got a chocolate moulded in the shape of a position from the Kama Sutra, and one of the loud tie brigade offered to sing American Pie if someone donated £50. Foolishly, someone did.
Finally, Aziz insisted that Miles got up to sing, as the resident rock star. We all wanted to die on his behalf, but he survived the experience by insisting on a duet of Hound Dog with Aziz himself, who had offered to sing Elvis earlier in the evening.
Surreal is a much over-used word, but I think it is genuinely valid in this case. We were had by a pro.
But if Aziz hadn't told us that Radiohead were coming, we probably wouldn't have gone, and the Centre for the Rehabilitation of the Paralysed in Bangladesh, an undoubtedly good cause, wouldn't have had all our jelly and treasure hunt money and more besides.
And if Radiohead *had* been there, we probably wouldn't have laughed nearly so much. Also, Thom Yorke would have had to get up and sing an Elvis song instead, which might well have finished him off.
So if you look at it like that, everyone's a winner.
joella
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Smells like community spirit
The street fair was a resounding success. Lots of people did Miles's treasure hunt, and some even finished it. I sold all the jelly (apple was more popular than I expected, and vodka was the last to go, who'd have thought it).
I had a couple of glasses of wine from the French cafe, came over all light headed, bought some pink plants and some buns, and played Lemon Jelly and Radio Zumbido from our doorstep when the man down the road wasn't singing pop classics with his acoustic guitar. I got AstroTurf graze from the Tug of War and only got mildly agitated when people trod on my plants as they used the barbecue in our front garden.
The skies opened just after five, conveniently emptying the street, and then I came over all tired and grumpy, not helped by washing up fifty little plastic bowls. Had to retire to my pyjamas and missed Jeremy's party (sorry Jeremy).
Lessons for next time (in the spirit of living and learning)
Do one thing as a household not two, otherwise you get competitive and snappy
Be clear about who's buying the food for the barbecue, otherwise you are eating the surplus all week
Daytime drinking brings daytime hangovers, you should know that already
If you do Tug of War you fall over and it hurts
And Vege-Gel should sponsor me: several vegetarians said they would be off to buy some immediately. Not that they'll find any, as I bought every box in East Oxford.
joella
The street fair was a resounding success. Lots of people did Miles's treasure hunt, and some even finished it. I sold all the jelly (apple was more popular than I expected, and vodka was the last to go, who'd have thought it).
I had a couple of glasses of wine from the French cafe, came over all light headed, bought some pink plants and some buns, and played Lemon Jelly and Radio Zumbido from our doorstep when the man down the road wasn't singing pop classics with his acoustic guitar. I got AstroTurf graze from the Tug of War and only got mildly agitated when people trod on my plants as they used the barbecue in our front garden.
The skies opened just after five, conveniently emptying the street, and then I came over all tired and grumpy, not helped by washing up fifty little plastic bowls. Had to retire to my pyjamas and missed Jeremy's party (sorry Jeremy).
Lessons for next time (in the spirit of living and learning)
And Vege-Gel should sponsor me: several vegetarians said they would be off to buy some immediately. Not that they'll find any, as I bought every box in East Oxford.
joella
Saturday, May 10, 2003
Purple haze
We all have our foibles, right? But why, having left paint trays and rollers all over our already overcrowded kitchen for About Three Weeks, has Miles decided now is the perfect time to do those little bits of touching up to the purple dining room which happens to be a conservatory?
When we need to go out NOW for important last minute jelly and treasure hunt supplies? It's doing my head in.
joella
We all have our foibles, right? But why, having left paint trays and rollers all over our already overcrowded kitchen for About Three Weeks, has Miles decided now is the perfect time to do those little bits of touching up to the purple dining room which happens to be a conservatory?
When we need to go out NOW for important last minute jelly and treasure hunt supplies? It's doing my head in.
joella
Friday, May 09, 2003
Jelly wobbles
I said I would do a jelly stall for our street fair on Sunday (now *there's* a sentence I never thought I'd see myself type). But I'm getting quite worried.
I've done the Tesco run, bought orange juice, grape juice, apple juice, elderflower cordial to make it all a bit sweeter, Seabreeze ingredients for the alco-jelly, Vege-Gel, and little bowls and spoons and napkins. I have the materials for fifty little bowls of jelly.
But
Where am I going to get the time to make fifty little bowls of jelly?
Where am I going to get the fridge space to set fifty little bowls of jelly?
What if I get the proportions wrong and have fifty little bowls of unset jelly?
What if it rains? What am I going to do with fifty little bowls of leftover jelly?
What if nobody likes it (see above)?
Maybe anxious people should stick to clearing up at the end.
Interesting aside -- really I wanted to go to Waitrose, not Tesco. But it was 7.30 and I checked the Waitrose website and it closes at 8. Then I checked the Sainsbury website, which reassured me my nearest branch was open all night. Then I checked the Tesco website... and all you can do is shop online. It tells you nothing whatsoever about its real shops in the real world! Their internet manager is clearly stupid. It does happen.
Tesco won the day nonetheless, but only because I had a hankering for its splendid own-brand Mushroom Burgers. Next time it might not be so lucky.
joella
I said I would do a jelly stall for our street fair on Sunday (now *there's* a sentence I never thought I'd see myself type). But I'm getting quite worried.
I've done the Tesco run, bought orange juice, grape juice, apple juice, elderflower cordial to make it all a bit sweeter, Seabreeze ingredients for the alco-jelly, Vege-Gel, and little bowls and spoons and napkins. I have the materials for fifty little bowls of jelly.
But
Maybe anxious people should stick to clearing up at the end.
Interesting aside -- really I wanted to go to Waitrose, not Tesco. But it was 7.30 and I checked the Waitrose website and it closes at 8. Then I checked the Sainsbury website, which reassured me my nearest branch was open all night. Then I checked the Tesco website... and all you can do is shop online. It tells you nothing whatsoever about its real shops in the real world! Their internet manager is clearly stupid. It does happen.
Tesco won the day nonetheless, but only because I had a hankering for its splendid own-brand Mushroom Burgers. Next time it might not be so lucky.
joella
Thursday, May 08, 2003
Trash
The Limitations are looking for new tunes for their big party in July. I've just been listening to Trash by Suede on 6Music. Now there's a song for Thatcher's children to dance to on a hot summer night.
joella
The Limitations are looking for new tunes for their big party in July. I've just been listening to Trash by Suede on 6Music. Now there's a song for Thatcher's children to dance to on a hot summer night.
joella
Wednesday, May 07, 2003
Punting / Quorn
Two words have amused my Australian artist half-aunt while she has been staying with me.
The first is Quorn. They don't have Quorn in Australia. And if you had heard an Australian say it, you would know why. "What's this Kawoooarn stuff then?" The focus group must have laughed them out of town.
The second is punting, or more specifically 'punt'. I suppose it does sound a bit rude if you say it with a certain vigour. But she seemed to enjoy the experience anyway. We took a day off and headed north past the Victoria Arms. There was hardly a soul on the river, and we ate a Lebanese picnic and got bullied by swans. It was great.
And I have picked up a few things from her lexicon as well. Last time she was here (about nine years ago) it was the fabulous verb 'to pike'. Piking is when you go to bed before everything is eaten, drunk, smoked, snorted and the birds have got up.
I am a big piker at the moment, what with my healthy living. But that's okay these days, because we are all grown ups and have choices. The way to say "no, that's fine, really, you do what you think is best and I will not put any pressure on you to do otherwise", is to say "no worries, it's all good".
It's very satisfying when you get the hang of it.
joella
Two words have amused my Australian artist half-aunt while she has been staying with me.
The first is Quorn. They don't have Quorn in Australia. And if you had heard an Australian say it, you would know why. "What's this Kawoooarn stuff then?" The focus group must have laughed them out of town.
The second is punting, or more specifically 'punt'. I suppose it does sound a bit rude if you say it with a certain vigour. But she seemed to enjoy the experience anyway. We took a day off and headed north past the Victoria Arms. There was hardly a soul on the river, and we ate a Lebanese picnic and got bullied by swans. It was great.
And I have picked up a few things from her lexicon as well. Last time she was here (about nine years ago) it was the fabulous verb 'to pike'. Piking is when you go to bed before everything is eaten, drunk, smoked, snorted and the birds have got up.
I am a big piker at the moment, what with my healthy living. But that's okay these days, because we are all grown ups and have choices. The way to say "no, that's fine, really, you do what you think is best and I will not put any pressure on you to do otherwise", is to say "no worries, it's all good".
It's very satisfying when you get the hang of it.
joella
Friday, May 02, 2003
Cornflake Girl
It's happened! I have started waking up and wanting breakfast! In a sort of 'I need to eat now or I won't function properly' sort of way! This is a remarkable development.
Mostly I am eating cornflakes for breakfast, with So Good, which I grudgingly have to admit does live up to its name. In fact, I like the fresh version of it *better* than milk (though it goes funny in coffee, so you need the long life version, which I do not like better than milk). This is another remarkable development.
Also remarkable, but not a development... I thought of 'Cornflake Girl' this morning and tried to get into Blogger, but it was down. So I went off to do another search, to find out if I can eat cornflour or not (at the request of my aunt, whom I am visiting this weekend with my Australian artist half-aunt).
And Google result #4 is an info page about cornflour which has a link to Amazon to buy... Tori Amos's Cornflake Girl. You couldn't make it up.
joella
It's happened! I have started waking up and wanting breakfast! In a sort of 'I need to eat now or I won't function properly' sort of way! This is a remarkable development.
Mostly I am eating cornflakes for breakfast, with So Good, which I grudgingly have to admit does live up to its name. In fact, I like the fresh version of it *better* than milk (though it goes funny in coffee, so you need the long life version, which I do not like better than milk). This is another remarkable development.
Also remarkable, but not a development... I thought of 'Cornflake Girl' this morning and tried to get into Blogger, but it was down. So I went off to do another search, to find out if I can eat cornflour or not (at the request of my aunt, whom I am visiting this weekend with my Australian artist half-aunt).
And Google result #4 is an info page about cornflour which has a link to Amazon to buy... Tori Amos's Cornflake Girl. You couldn't make it up.
joella
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