842

842, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Thirsty. London, UK

ready, steady, go!

start line, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

With the natural slow motion induced by the weather, these pansies may just open in time for my family to come round and enjoy them. A pleasant thought for all five of us, I'm certain. And an unlikely success for an unlikely gardener, as well.

teeth deep into white teeth

Virginia Woolf: A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.

Zadie Smith: I am grateful to both Lisa and Joshua Appignanesi for contriving between them to get me a room of my own when it was most required. Acknowledgments, White Teeth

Just a thought: could Zadie Smith's redhead music teacher Poppy have inspired Mike Leigh's Poppy teacher in Happy-Go-Lucky? It jumped out of the page at me.

And a thought from my love: Virginia Woolf moved on our street in 1907, and remained here until 1911. I moved here in 2007. Would it be odd we moved out in 2011?

841

841, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Eurostar dinner. Paris, France

a bloody mechanic, really?

typealyzer, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

You can have endless fun with Typealyzer as long as you inquire about blogs written in English or Swedish. The service does a quick analysis of a blog based on the Jung/ Myers-Briggs typologies. Results are saved, so the moment you run the analysis, you're stuck.

In my case, it said ISTP, for both blogs. My real type is ESTP. Or is it ESTJ? Don't quite recall. It's interesting to consider why the difference. Is it because they're in Beta and still polishing the algorithms, or is it rather because my exuberant, expansive nature doesn't come across in my blogs? For descriptions of all 16 types read the official page.

I've run a couple of other queries for fun. My love is a Thinker, they say, but again, it's only close to the real type, and then he comes across as a Scientist for his professional blog, which is not closer. Ashok turned out an ISTP like me, however true that is, and so did Wonkette. Dooce seems an ESFP, Performer. Since the service works for Twitter, too, I expect it to work for anything blog-like.

It only works for blogs in English and Swedish this far, though, so... sorry Romania.

by popular request, a bio

Finally got round to writing a bit of a bio. Should be entertaining. But brief? Grab a cuppa.

spotted, and tested: mantra, 37 crutched friars

peshwari naan, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

A bit lost in The City last night, before joining the London Bloggers Meetup, we searched for reasonably tasty, decently priced, and rapidly delivered dinner on the ghostly, windy streets. The obvious options were pubs, none of them alluring, wine bars (one rather famous, to be tested another day), and some posh restaurants with which we couldn't be arsed.

It sounds fussy, but there was no Pizza Express in sight, for example, and we nearly settled on Pitcher & Piano when... enter Mantra, at 37 Crutched Friars! Indian cuisine at its best, at least in its English iteration, as tasty as previously witnessed in some of the tastiest Brick Lane/ Drummond Street venues. Similarly priced, too. Great service, though with the usual amusing surprise that two people hardly manage to eat what one Indian would have for starters, presumably.

Highlights? 1. The chopped onion that accompanied the papadums was the best yet. Our waiter maintained that it was made with carrot and honey, but we could spot red bell pepper from a mile—if that was a mistake, it sure proved tasty! 2. The peshwari naan simply perfect, crisp, yet melting in your mouth. 3. This being The City, few people venture in not-so-posh restaurants in the evening. I will certainly go back.

As for my favourite Indian bread so far, if not my favourite bread all around, I keep reading that the peshwari naan (recipe) is filled with anything but what I've been tasting so far: a mixture of nuts (almonds, pistachio) and raisins (really). There seems to be almond in what I've had a few times this far in life, but no raisins, unsure about pistachios, and loving the coconut taste. You read that right: coconut. Oh, my, I feel the craving coming!

reading: the economist

Part of the pleasure of working at home and having a flexible schedule is taking baths instead of showers. Part of the pleasure of taking baths is reading. Here's what caught my eye earlier today, in The Economist: a book worth reading one day, and a lovely voice gone, unfortunately.

1. Mr Tapscott identifies eight norms that define Net Geners [net generation], which he believes everyone should take on board to avoid being swept away by the sort of generational tsunami that helped Barack Obama beat John McCain. Net Geners value freedom and choice in everything they do. They love to customise and personalise. They scrutinise everything. They demand integrity and openness, including when deciding what to buy and where to work. They want entertainment and play n their work and education, as well as their social life. They love to collaborate. They expect everything to happen fast. And they expect constant innovation. Full article, The kids are alright. Book, Grown Up Digital: How the Net Generation is Changing Your World, by Don Tapscott.

2. On the passing of Miriam "Zenzi" Makeba: Everytime she stepped on stage, resplendent in gold brocade or high hats or a sheath of shiny leopard skin, she unleashed the power of music to thrill, shock, elevate, and set men and women free.

I will admit that her photo and her name, to my shame, said nothing to me. And then I came across these lyrics: Yiyo mama yiyo mama/ (Nantsi, pata pata)/ Yiyo mama yiyo mama/ (Nantsi, pata pata) and the chorus exploded in my mind, in her unique voice. According to the article, pata pata means touch touch. This woman touched my life early on. Yours, too? Recall Pata, pata!

our grapevine: utterly confused

confused, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Otherwise, why would it start parading fresh buds this close to December? Don't get distracted by its last two leaves. Spot the green bud ready to sprout. I almost whipped myself for not having pruned the creature yet. BUT it must be done before Christmas—what's the hurry? AND either way, the grapevine sports new buds in all sorts of places, not just the tip of its limbs. I haven't got the heart to go ahead with pruning now, to decide which buds live, which die. I'm thinking I'll let the winter intervene, and learn about vine training systems meanwhile. This choice determines the type of fruit I get, and also impacts how I prune my baby. Complex business, grapevining!

note to self: pursue a pint with charlie brooker

Until seeing the new episode of Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe (BBC 4), I didn't realise how much I missed him. His take on the Jonathan Ross & Russell Brand rollercoaster is correct and hilarious. To the point where I wanted to give the guy a pat on the shoulder, high five, a hug, or, what the hell, go wild and plant a loud kiss on our flat screen.

beaded bottle necklace: poison or perfume?

perfume bottle necklace, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Having Marie [RO] around for a few days has been a good preview to having my parents and sister around in less than two weeks. We had guests before, but hardly ever for more than a couple of nights, so it came quite handy, this learning opportunity, and it provided us with some great insight. It also brought us the expected pleasure of showing some bits of the city or point to them, but more so, to see the city through her eyes.

My side benefit was unexpected, however, and had very little to do with London. Marie's found this vintage necklace at a flea market in Bucharest and instantly knew it was very me. It is so me, that, seeing it I couldn't believe I hadn't had one yet. I nearly wore it last night at the London Bloggers Meetup but, beyond knowing whether it really takes liquid and deciding which liquid would fit (poison? perfume? liquor?), I realised there's something very summery about it.

And now, we're both waiting for the summer. Plenty of time to experiment with those liquids.

840

840, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Promise of berries. London, UK

the dark side of the perfect saturday

On Charlotte Street, as central as it gets, a man got off his car, stood by the sidewalk in between the car seat and the car door, and pissed. In full daylight, on Saturday afternoon.

Outside Octave, where many enjoy a smoke and people from the next door pub pile up their pints, a couple in their mid thirties were standing very close and quite, not smoking, not drinking, not talking. Eventually, they moved apart and each of them zipped their trousers.

On a street behind Tottenham Court Road, a little vase with five huge white roses was carefully positioned in front of the steps leading to a house. A tribute to someone's memory? A secret admirer? Steps away, several people had unloaded their stomachs.

take two

zooey deschanel vs. katy perry, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

You're looking at Zoey Deschanel (seen in Weeds) and Katy Perry (soon on YouTube Live). In that order, the girls. Hard to believe in different mothers, no? Even the same straight nose!

Image sources: Zoey, Katy

today in brief

1. Wooster Sauce is, how else, the 24-pages quarterly journal of the P.G. Wodehouse Society ((UK)UKand a real bargain for the Society's GBP 15 annual membership fee.

2. Stephen Fry in America, a BBC series of 1-hour long episodes from the man nearly born Steven instead of Stephen, nearly born in NJ instead of NW3.

3. Eleanor Hardwick or Leenah is a gifted 16 y.o. photographer from Oxford, UK. She started playing with a camera at 12, and has been commissioned for commercial projects meanwhile.

839

839, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Espressss yourself. Paris, France

from the vault: stolen view

Stolen view, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

These old, heavy, broken belts caught my eye on the meager terrace in the back of the building ever since I first stepped on it more than two years ago. I had to found them a place down the memory lane.

A while later, it so happened that I ended up cleaning the terrace (tired with the hollow promises of my neighbours) and threw the old belts away with my own hands. It was easier knowing I had, in fact, had them.

daily nonsense

Dear Mirona Iliescu, Due to an operational issue, the Oyster Card security question answer required to protect your card has been reset to [...]. This security question answer is required to access your Oyster account when you make a call to the Oyster helpline. It is recommended that you change your security question answer online at your earliest convenience by following the instructions below: [...].

Dear Oyster Card, a week spent without one of your endearing e-mails is, like, totally, bleak.

838

838, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Last Christmas. London, UK

perfect saturday

Woke up when I felt like it, watched a couple of Grand Designs episodes while blogging, pottering, having my coffee. I know that show features morons most of the time, but what better way to learn? Had a bath, and a bubbly orange juice. Got dressed nicely, walked towards SoHo. Entered the Multipazz shop I've always wanted to see (a few cute things inside, indeed), walked some more around SoHo. Had tasty cherry drops and some little irresistible junk food, entered a few more shops. Talked a lot, about everything, bought some teas. Walked on Berwick Street, thought about proper foods. Finally stopped at Fernandez & Wells for some tapas and wine. Admired the huge inflatable snowmen around Carnaby. Took tube to Embankment, went to the Royal Festival Hall to see the World Press Photography exhibition. Ran into London Jazz Festival poster, remembered it started, had a beer on the terrace, walked back to the bridge. Saw carousel on the South Bank, ran, stopped carousel, got on for the first time in my adult life, had cheeky fun. Got off, walked across the bridge and all the way into Covent Garden. Stopped at Kulu Kulu for dinner. Finally arrived at Octave, stood for a long while in odd positions, had brilliant cocktails (though pricey, just like their shite food). Listened to the Monk Liberation Front, eventually got a table, spoke some more, had two more brilliant cocktails, tipped the only nice waitress, then walked again when my feet were falling. The night bus came, another slow walk followed, brushed teeth, had extra water, crashed in bed with a large smile.

Out and about for eleven hours, nothing planned, sparkling company, all perfect.

not a hack per se: clear plastic shoe boxes

plastic shoe boxes, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Like any respectable woman, I've never enough space to store and display my shoes. Lately, I hardly had any space left to walk around them. Kindly, the owner of the reasonable number of pairs offered me some of his shoe rack space. They still overflowed. And stacked on top of each other. And got dusty. And were impossible to reach or see without some serious foray into the dark matter underneath the shelf of bags. Bags crammed by more shoes.

The end of all that was nearer than I thought: clear plastic shoe boxes. Less than half on hour spent with Google and I had chosen my provider AND ordered the damn things, having also measured the area, counted my pairs, etc. Strange as it may sound, after a couple of hours of serious cleaning, ALL my shoes are now neatly together in the available space under the shelf. And, blimey, there's even room for a few more pairs! Shopping?

obama: goodbye blackberry, hello youtube

On Blackberry
1. New York Times, November 15th.
2. Telegraph, November 16th (the article is almost word for word).
3. ZDNET, November 16th.

On YouTube (the first weekly address)
1. The Washington Post, November 14th.
2. The Huffington Post, November 14th.
3. TechCrunch, November 15th.
4. The Guardian, November 16th.
5. CNET, November 16th.

837

837, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

'Tis the season to be shiny. London, UK

oooh, muxtape remembers me

So cheezy! I had put muxtape behind me, unfortunately, at least until the day it comes back like some online Phoenix bird (Napster pulled the trick years ago, but lost me on the way). Meanwhile, though my mixtape is gone, my tracklist and only fan are remembered. Sweet of you, muxtape!

the business of disagreeing

lunch for the cleaner, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

When people agree with you if you wait long enough, it makes just as much sense that people disagree with you if you wait long enough. A more recent Twitter message received three replies, just like last time. All of them suggested the precise course of action I will take the day my house is staffed and big enough that said staff has its own entry, staircase, and quarters. Or, equally, the day hell freezes over.