Thanks to guest contributer 'Old father Thames' for this post (I know, how strange). We were given tickets to see Eddie Izzard at the Palladium. I’m not his greatest fan, but I selflessly agreed to attend as my wife likes him and we’ve seen his show many times over the years. Also, it was... Continue Reading →
You can tell that austerity has hit hospitals hard. There was a distinct lack of falafel on offer at the canteen and café. I had to get my husband to run out to a shop to bring my me post birth falafel and houmous. What a disgrace, brexit couldn't come soon enough. Soon all that... Continue Reading →
So we moved house, just in time to welcome our new arrival into the world. If he ever appears that is, he seems to enjoy being wedged in between my ribs and lungs whilst simultaneously pressing on my bladder too much to ever want to leave. He's like an enormous octopus, punching and... Continue Reading →
The small shop was filled to the brim with hungry people! There was a queue which gave me slight anxiety (as someone who is non-British born) but it moved quickly and the service was friendly and the atmosphere was great!
But I'd only had one beer. And it wasn't. Let me set the scene. I had made the unusual move of going out (and on a Wednesday, no less). The Canteen, on trendy Stokes Croft where we found ourselves, was teeming with drunken youths, some of whom (well, one) asked for our advice on places to... Continue Reading →
Brent Cross shopping centre is known for its shops. There are loads of them. 120 to be precise. There’s even a pop up beach in the summer, where literally 350 tonnes of sand and 100 palm trees are plonked into the North West London car park...
London. The Big Smoke. Mr Falafel. After a grueling couple of hours in the Science Museum, where we had seen Tim Peake's actual space craft (v. disappointing) and learnt that scientists do lots of weird shit to mice, enough was enough. None of this learning and 'culture' malarky. We needed to get down to it.... Continue Reading →
Who is the falafel? I ruminate for several minutes thinking of the historical falafels of my life. There was that great one in Amsterdam with the implausible salad bar but was that me or the falafel? The city, booze or hummus? There were those homemade falafels we had when we watched Jurassic Park but I... Continue Reading →