Of The Unexpected

Well, life really is full of surprises, isn't it? I did not expect, this time last week, that I would now be sitting in my bed at home, dosed up to the eyeballs on penicillin and steroids, and awaiting the results of a blood test. But here I am! Last weekend, I developed an incredibly painful sore throat, which resulted in my barely being able to swallow anything, even water, without feeling as if my throat were being cut through with razor blades. I was generally weak and pitiful, and on Monday took myself off to the doctor, who took one look inside my mouth and recoiled, exclaiming 'Nasty!', before diagnosing me with suspected Glandular Fever. I was packed off to have a blood test the following morning, and should get the results tomorrow. In the meantime, my mum shot down to Oxford and whisked me away home to be looked after and pampered as I do my best Wilting Victorian Lady impression, and flit piteously between the bed and the sofa. My health has not been great for a few months now -- always a worry with my history of M.E. (which I suffered from badly between the ages of 14 and 18, with the odd relapse since) -- and obviously I need to be extra careful as I recuperate now. So it's going to be brake pedal on for a while, with regards to work and play. It's difficult having to miss out on the things I want to do, but several years of M.E. means that I have learned the necessity of listening to my body and not pushing myself to breaking point, and the doctor is hopeful that with catching this early, and throwing lots of medication at it, we can keep things contained.

To cheer myself up in the meantime, however, my mum and I have just arranged a couple of London adventures for her birthday at the end of June, by which time I hope to be back to something approaching full working order. We will be having an afternoon and evening filled with the best food and entertainment the capital has to offer, even managing to fit in a little bit of fashion as a matter of course -- in the best frivolous manner.

We'll be starting off with the Pret a Portea afternoon tea in the deliciously named Caramel Room at The Berkeley Hotel in Knightsbridge. I've been desperate to go here since I first heard about the fashionista fancies on offer at the tea table, and I only had to show a couple of these photos to my mum before she was completely captivated too:

(Images from The Berkeley Hotel's website)

Mmm. Doesn't it all look divine? Almost too good to eat. Almost...

After polishing off our pretty platefuls, we'll then be heading off in the evening to the Garrick Theatre to see their forthcoming production of Pygmalion. I saw Peter Hall's brilliant version of this at the Old Vic in 2008 with Michelle Dockery (recently so good in ITV's excellent series Downton Abbey -- if you get the chance do watch this if you missed it before Christmas!) as Eliza and the ever-dependable Tim Piggott-Smith as Professor Higgins. I am still wildly excited about this new production, however, as it stars one of my favourite actors: Rupert Everett. I am really looking forward to seeing what he brings to the role of Henry Higgins!

(Image from here)

For now, however, I am curling up under the duvet and making the most of my unexpected rest by (finally!) finishing my Persephone Reading Weekend book (watch out for a review soon, as well as a belated description of my time in London the other weekend). As well as this, I am (also finally) catching up with The Killing, a Danish crime drama which has been showing on BBC4 over recent weeks. Luckily for me, there is still some of the series to go, and the rest of it is still (just) available on the BBC iPlayer. I've heard so many good things about it, and have been wanting to watch it for ages without managing to find the time, so some enforced bed rest seems like the perfect opportunity. I have mentioned before how Sir W tells us in his 1600 essay 'Of Sleepe' that

'Fame neuer yet knewe a perpetuall bedpresser',

but for now, Fame will have to wait, as bedpressing is exactly what the doctor ordered!

Of A Happy Easter

I hope you've all been enjoying as lovely an Easter weekend as I have! I'm at home for ten days of holiday at the moment, and have been indulging in some festive treats. I was very pleased to make the acquaintance of this little fellow yesterday, who is (almost) too cute to eat:

After a lovely Easter Sunday lunch at home with my mum and grandparents yesterday, today my mum and I made a trip up into the beautiful Peak District. Our destination was the charming estate village of Tissington in Derbyshire, about an hour's drive away, and a favourite place to visit when I'm at home. Crossing over the cattlegrid that marks the village boundary, it feels rather as if one has driven into a picture postcard. Pretty, grey-stoned cottages cluster at the head of the main street...

... a picturesque church perches atop a little hill ...

... and crowning it all is the stunning Tissington Hall, still privately owned by the Fitzherbert family, as it has been since the fifteenth century. The current Hall dates from 1609, and I can just imagine Sir W emerging from the gateway:

As we came into the village, Mum and I were pleased to spy signs directing us to a craft fair, and we wandered along past the duck pond towards the school house, which today was playing host to a variety of stalls selling hand-made gifts and local produce. Although I was tempted by a very cute little pair of turquoise and purple wrist warmers, I didn't actually buy anything, although it was fun to browse the tables and admire the workmanship on display. After exploring this unexpected little distraction, we were starting to feel rather peckish. Happily, the Hall's former coach house has been converted into a wonderful tea room...

... so we wandered back over the road to enjoy a lovely ploughman's lunch -- plates filled with delicious thick-cut ham from the village butcher, and yummy chunks of Stilton and Cheddar with a scrumptious home-made chutney for a bit of extra kick.

The Old Coach House was doing a good business, full of Bank Holiday visitors who were enjoying the Easter sunshine: walkers in their wax jackets and wellies with shiny-eyed dogs at their heels, and parents laughing with their children as they paddled together in the stream that runs through the village. This stream flows down the main street towards the pond, passing through the main well in the village on the way. There are six wells altogether in Tissington, and the village is known for its well dressing ceremony, which takes place every year in May. As you can see from these photos of the well dressing celebrations in 2000, the flower displays are often very intricate:

People come from far and wide to see the well dressing, and I remember going as a little girl, and loving the bright colours and beautiful floral pictures. Although there were no such works of art to admire today, the village was still looking very pretty, with its daffodils and snowdrops creeping through the grass. Sadly I still haven't got round to buying a new camera, so I can't share any photos of today's blooms, nor of the woolly little lambs who were frisking and gamboling in the fields across the wall!

Tissington is home to a couple of great little shops, but unfortunately neither of them was open today, which seemed like a bit of a missed opportunity. Normally I enjoy popping in for a look around the candle workshop, with its displays of beautiful wax creations, although as I have a couple at home already, it's probably no bad thing I couldn't be tempted by any more! I particularly like the hurricane candles, which have beautiful flowers trapped beneath the wax. With a little tea light popped inside, the effect is utterly charming. I have one quite similar to these two sitting just across from me in my bedroom as I type:

The other shop is a wonderful little treasure trove called Acanthus, which sells beautiful homewares, lighting, and gifts. I was rather disappointed not to be able to call in there today, but no doubt there'll be other opportunities!

All in all it was a lovely breath of fresh air, and I always enjoy the drive through Derbyshire, as the countryside starts becoming wilder and hills and peaks start appearing. After a rather hectic end to term, I was more than glad of a chance to blow the cobwebs away. I'll be sharing some more stories from the start of my break before long, but for the moment at least, Sir W may well say of me (to take a few words from his 1601 essay 'Of Natures pollicie') that I have:

'arriued at some good end of her trauailes'.

Of Being Out With The Old...

...and in with the new. A belated Happy New Year to everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful and peaceful Christmas and that 2010 has started well. I had a simply lovely time over the holiday, spending Christmas Day itself with my mum in the heart of a beautifully frosty Gloucestershire. Rather than stay at home for Christmas, we decided to take ourselves off to the Priory Inn in Tetbury, renowned for its excellent, locally sourced food. The restaurant has a 30 mile food policy, meaning that 90% of its ingredients come from nearby farmers. As they are just down the road from Highgrove, we were spoilt with scrumptious Duchy vegetables from the Home Farm there, to accompany the melt-in-the-mouth pigeon I had for a starter, and the truly delicious venison I chose for my main course. After the mock Christmas Day my friends and I had enjoyed in Oxford before the vacation, I felt I'd already had enough turkey to satisfy my seasonal craving! I was also happy to have the chance to show off a new dress I'd bought just before Christmas -- part of the collection designed by Coast only for sale in their outlets inside Debenhams. The meek and mild front...

... makes the pretty draped back a nice surprise, giving it an elegantly mischievous frisson which appealed to me:

I always love the chance to get dressed up, and Christmas is a great excuse as we toasted the season with some local (and surprisingly nice!) bubbly. I was also pleased to toast a particularly successful present haul, as I opened pretty parcels to find jewelry, gloves, a new watch, various other bits and pieces, as well as my current reading material -- Saplings by Noel Streatfeild -- and, some tokens of the best kind: one from the marvellous Persephone Books, to feed my grey cover fetish once Saplings is done with, and also some theatre tokens, which I'll be able to exchange for tickets to one or two of the many productions I want to see this year! Wonderful! Long-term readers might also be interested to know that my presents also included some of the beautiful travel guides from The Little Bookroom I wrote about here, and *all* of the beautiful items from Fey Handmade I lusted after here, courtesy of my lovely grandfather, who has obviously been keeping a weather eye on this blog! Thank you again, Grampa!

Boxing Day was spent with family back in Staffordshire, and so the festive season was a perfect combination of good food, relaxation, and good company. I was only at home for a week, which was just enough to refresh me before returning to Oxford just before the New Year, when an American friend was visiting from Los Angeles. He and I and another friend travelled together to London on New Year's Eve, joined by others to see in 2010 at another friend's flat there. We were all thrilled when it actually started snowing bang on the dot of midnight, as we crowded onto the balcony to watch the fireworks over the dark sky. Sadly my camera broke almost on the stroke of midnight as well, so the snowflakes were lost to posterity (this sad calamity also means my blog might be a little sparse when it comes to pictures while I get a new camera sorted out. Sigh).

I was particularly excited on New Year's Day, as my friends and I were -- as I mentioned in my last post -- off to see the much touted production of The Misanthrope at the Comedy Theatre that evening.

As I think I mentioned before, I was particularly eager to see Damian Lewis on stage, and I am glad to say I wasn't disappointed. He had tremendous energy and presence, and made a wonderful Alceste. Obviously the main draw for many in the audience was Keira Knightley, in her widely publicised theatre debut. Personally, I thought she was fine, but nothing more, and her American accent was unfortunately terribly distracting, and at times rather wavering (as my American friend, who is a BIG fan of KK, was forced to admit). She did, however, have a couple of very nice outfits! I particularly liked the 1930s-style silky black jumpsuit and black and gold drapey cardigan she wore in the first act, which you can see a detail of here:

The play itself, a modern reworking by Martin Crimp, sped along at a zipping, zinging pace, with the rhyming couplets flowing easily from most of the cast, as it rushed through its slim two hour running time (this included the interval -- it's a while since I've been out of an evening performance by 9.30!). I've never read Moliere's original, and seeing this really made me want to, so at some point I'll have to seek it out (although the sad state of my French means I'll probably be forced to read it in translation, unless I'm feeling very virtuous. And have a lot of spare time).

Since then, I've been back in Oxford, which has looked beautiful under the deepest covering of snow I've ever seen here. I can't believe my camera has died at such an inopportune moment! Still, I must admit I have been spending quite a large proportion of my time tucked up indoors, drinking much hot tea and snuggling under blankets, as (you may not be surprised to hear this) my footwear collection is not really very compatible with the icy conditions! It turns out that the only shoes or boots I have which have any tread on the soles at all (excluding, of course, The Walking Boots, which are huddled at the back of a cupboard at home -- little did I think I might have need of them away from the alpine slopes) are my new knee-high boots. Which have heels. Chunkyish heels, sure, but still heels, which is enough to make many passers-by give me sidelong glances and a wide berth as they wait for what they assume is the inevitable graceless topple. Luckily, this hasn't happened yet, and I am convinced that heels and tread is infinitely safer than flats and smooth sole. In comfort, I also draw upon my demonstrable (and long-honed skill) of walking in Adverse Weather Conditions in surprising footwear, rembering that skirmishofwit and I survived a three day sojourn in Paris last December without any mishap, despite the fact that we were both trotting (well, okay, Very Slowly Edging Our Way Along) over the icy pavements in ankle boots with, shall we say, heels of a height which might make some people question whether I truly do suffer from vertigo. Saying all this, I shall probably leave the library today and fall flat. Well, just as long as I don't damage my laptop!

Although I sincerely hope I don't injure myself before this evening, as tonight I am ... DRUM ROLL ... having my very first Pole Dancing Lesson. Yes, that's right: pole dancing. Two friends and I are going along tonight to be initiated into its wonders, having being reassured by another friend who is already a fan that it is excellent exercise, a great confidence booster, and quite simply a fabulously sexy and fun thing to do. We'll see! If I can move enough tomorrow to drag myself to my laptop, I'll be giving a report on my first experience. Talking of which, I'd better go, as my friend and I are meeting up shortly to buy some hotpants which, for some reason, neither of us happened to have lying around our wardrobes already...

Although my posts have never been entirely regular, I've so much enjoyed having my blog over the tail end of 2009, and I look forward to continuing with it this year. And what better start to 2010's blogging than to find that I've been given A Lovely Blog Award!

Many thanks to Karen at BookBath for this! The idea of the award is that if you receive one, you then give it to others, so I'll be nominating some lovely blogs of my own over the next couple of days, as well as sharing with you tales from snowy Amsterdam, and a few other bits and pieces. I can't wait! Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and commenting over the last few months -- I never thought that anyone I didn't actually know would ever read what I wrote, and it's added so much to my enjoyment to 'talk' to you all in the comments section!

Rather than leaving you with the usual quotation from Sir W, I thought some of you might like to see this wonderful engraving from the 1632 edition of his Essayes, by Thomas Cecill. There is an old story that the two men are Sir W and his father, Sir Charles, but as they look more like twins than father and son, this hardly seems the case. So sadly it brings us no closer to knowing what Sir W looked like, although that he was wonderfully dashing seems unquestionable. Well, through my rose-tinted eyes, anyway...

Of A Lovely Weekend

My friend's party at the weekend was a lot of fun. We enjoyed some pre-dinner drinks at her house, where we were greeted by an unexpected guest, with whom, as you can see, I rather fell in love:

Doesn't he look real?! Unfortunately he was a bit to big for me to slip into my handbag and steal off with... We followed this with an excellent meal at Jaipur on the Cowley Road. This was a new discovery for me, and one I'm very pleased to have made. The staff were friendly, the ambiance warm and welcoming, and the food both delicious and beautifully presented:

They even brought my friend a little extra something when they found out it was her birthday:

I can particularly recommend the Mixed Starter and the Chicken Shaslick, while the spinach rice is also well worth trying. I've found out that they offer free home delivery on orders within six miles of the restaurant, so I think I'll be trying that out one evening when cooking seems like too much effort!

After the meal, we made our way down the Cowley Road to Cafe Coco. I'd been here for brunch and lunch before (both lovely. The full English breakfast is truly excellent, and is one of the few places I've found in Oxford where it includes black pudding, which gets it a definite thumbs up from me). I'd never tried it in the evening, however, so I was particularly pleased to be able to test out their cocktail range, especially as certain cocktails are only £3.95 between 10pm and closing (at 1am).

Cafe Coco is owned by the same people as one of my very favourite Oxford haunts, The Grand Cafe, which also offers cheap cocktails every evening, so I was pleased to find that the ones at Cafe Coco were just as good. It's a fun place with a lively atmosphere, not to mention some rather interesting pieces of art:

When I came to Cafe Coco for brunch with a friend last year, I was sitting in a chair facing away from the clown in the bath, when suddenly my friend went a little pale and told me to turn around. I did so, only to see a rush of ice cubes pour out of the little gold pipe above the clown, *into the bath*. Apparently it's where they keep their ice. I was quite happy to finish my cup of tea, but my friend had a slightly harder job enjoying his iced water after that ... he said he couldn't quite enjoy it after thinking of it swimming around next to a naked clown mannequin. Fair enough, I suppose, but the bizarre sculptures certainly add to the atmosphere!

Sunday dawned bright and (not so) early, and we indulged ourselves with a reviving meal at the wonderful Edamame -- another absolute favourite which will some day merit a post to itself. After I'd waved goodbye to my friends, I then went on a Mission. And this time, I succeeded: I have New Boots!

I was *very* happy to find these at Marks & Spencer, exceedingly well priced (I fell in love with a pair at Sassi the other day, but they were £300, and my love has limits...) and also extraordinarily comfortable. The heel is sturdy enough to stand a good chance against the cobbles, whilst also looking nice with a skirt. They may not be perfect, but they are certainly a welcome addition to my wardrobe.

I pottered round the shops a little more in the afternoon, and was pleased to find a great new dress for the end of term Christmas dinner and party at College, which is coming up in early December. I wanted something a bit different, and I think this dress from French Connection fits the bill:

It is a little more risque perhaps than my usual choices, with the sheer front and carefully placed sequins (!), but it's fun and frivolous and perfect for getting into the Christmas spirit. And sometimes it's good to have a change. To tone it down a little, I'm going to pair it with black tights and a pair of black patent high heels like these...

... and look forward to dancing the night away. I'll make sure to tell you all about it!

For now, I'm off to get myself some lunch, and then I must stop thinking of frivolous matters for the time being and get back to the library. Or, as Sir W put it in his 1600 essay 'Of Fame':

'I will from henceforth follow Vertue silently in my study'.

Of Warming the House

My cold turned into the 'flu (whether or not of the porcine variety, I am unsure...), and I felt very sorry for myself during the three days I spent languishing in bed, despite having Dominic West and the rest of the cast of The Wire to keep me company. Happily, yesterday I began feeling much more like myself, which was fortunate as yesterday evening was the occasion of our housewarming party.

Some friends and I began the evening with a pre-party meal at the lovely Slovak restaurant Moya, which, thanks to my new location in St Clements, is just a hop and a skip down the road. After a celebratory cocktail, I enjoyed a delicious, melt-in-the-mouth pork shank...

... before indulging in this scrumptious 'bubble cake' for pudding. It tasted just as good as it looked:

The good food continued at the party itself, as along with the various varieties of alcohol with which we were presented, one of our guests also brought along a delicious 'Zebra cake' which she had baked earlier in the day:

It was lovely to catch up with old friends as wine, music, and conversation flowed freely. The house stood up remarkably well to being filled to capacity, and our new abode was warmed in a truly fine style: Time itself even rolled back an hour, making us feel that our new home is truly blessed! Here's hoping there'll be many more enjoyable evenings in St Clements over the next year!

In his 1601 essay 'Of Vanitie', Sir W warns that:

'a drunken night makes a mistie morning'.

Luckily, despite partaking freely of the many bottles presented by our guests (including some Chocolate Wine: very rich, very sweet, very curious! It would be a fun Christmas tipple), I managed to avoid any such mistiness myself today!

Of Many Happy Returns

Just a brief post today to announce that I Am Back - and still all in one piece, having managed to avoid rolling down the mountain side, falling out of the cable car, or withering away from high heel withdrawal symptoms. The trip to the Chalet des Anglais was simply fantastic, and I will be using the next two or three blog entries to talk about it in detail, as there is far to much to share in one post. Suffice to say at the moment that I am a complete convert to alpine living and have even been persuaded that I may be able to try skiing in the area next year. Miracles, as they say, do happen!

For now, I will just share a picture of the delicious and wonderful birthday cake which my chalet companions baked for me - no mean achievement in the somewhat temperamental ovens:

It was certainly a birthday to remember, much of it spent lazing away in the brilliant sunshine (we were tremendously lucky with the weather across the entire trip) on the chalet's 'croquet lawn' (unfortunately now somewhat trampled by wild boar...) with a book (and I only have Good Things to report about my reading choices). There was plenty of pleasant conversation and much laughter, and an excellent birthday dinner after a pre-dinner Kir (or three) sipped whilst looking out toward the sunset over the mountains. Bliss!

I miss it all already, but after my ten days of beautiful scenery and alpine tranquility, mixed with some surprisingly good chalet cooking and a healthy (?) enjoyment of chalet wine, all topped off with some wonderful books and conversation, I feel rejuvenated; and have left my temporary home to come back to Oxford ready 'for the entertaining of all fortunes', as Sir W describes in his 1600 essay 'Of Aduise':

'I would allow a man to keepe the house no longer then till hee be able to flie, vntill his mind and body are able to carrie themselues without falling, not vntil hee bee past reeling, and staggering, for that abilitie we neuer haue: but in this time let bookes, and Aduise rectifie, and prepare vs fit for the entertaining of all fortunes.'

Of Presents and Pimm's

Last night I enjoyed a wonderful early birthday meal at the lovely Al-Shami Lebanese Restaurant, tucked away down one of the many winding streets of Jericho. The food was delicious, and got off to an unusual start with huge platters of raw vegetables (something common to many Lebanese restaurants), which added a brilliant splash of colour to the table:

I felt extremely healthy nibbling away at this selection, although I fear that any potential vitamin benefits would have been washed away by the red wine... I always love catching up with old friends over a leisurely meal, and of course birthday dinners have the added bonus of including some very nice presents as a side dish!

Even the weather this weekend has been in a celebratory mood, and Oxford's been revelling in glorious hot sunshine. I've been able to indulge properly with a couple of long, lazy afternoons lounging outside at the pub with friends, a pitcher of Pimm's on the table beside us. Pimm's is one of my favourite things about summer in England, especially when it's made properly - with lashings of fruit and mint and plenty of ice. There's only one fly - or rather, wasp - in the ointment. Or, with my luck, several wasps. Unfortunately, the stripy little fiends enjoy a summery tipple just as much as I do, and I must confess that even a perfectly made glass of Pimm's can somewhat lose its appeal when you've just watched a wasp take a bath in it. As a consequence on these occasions, the table becomes something of a battleground. I'm not a particularly helpful member of the defence force, usually only managing to swat the air ineffectually in one wasp's general direction as I try simultaneously to ward off another who's after a juicy chunk of strawberry bobbing at the top of my glass. Luckily, I have some better co-ordinated friends who variously squish, drown, or decapitate the enemy in order to avoid any unwelcome added extras floating among the cucumber...

My weekend's exertions have left me in need of an early night, but first I should point out a new addition to my Oxford restaurant list: Al-Andulas in Little Clarendon Street. This is an absolutely fantastic little tapas bar which I went to for the first time this evening. I love the type of meal where you can pick and choose from lots of different little dishes, and I've walked past this place on many occasions, and have been wanting to try it for a while. It certainly didn't disappoint, and I'll definitely be returning again very soon!

Sir W was no stranger to Spanish cuisine: his father, Sir Charles Cornwallis, was based in Madrid as the resident ambassador to Spain from 1605 to 1609, and Sir W visited him there. I'm not sure that tapas would have been on the menu, but the analogy Sir W draws in the extract below suggests that he too would have approved of the 'few dishes well dressed' that I so much enjoyed this evening. This comes from the 1601 essay 'Of Silence and Secrecie'; Sir W has been contrasting different oratorical styles, and has concluded that it is definitely quality, rather than quantity, that matters:

'it is ... as it is betweene a few dishes well dressed and a great feast. The sparing speaker giues you that which is wholesome and ouerburdens not your memory with superfluitie; the wording Orator is like our English feasts, where the stomack must winne way to the second course, with bearing the burthen of the first, & when he comes to it, hath lost the bettering himselfe by it, through the heauinesse of his first receipt.'

Of Excuses and Cocktails

First up, apologies for the lack of post yesterday - not very good to miss one on my very first week blogging! Oops. Yesterday became rather hectic, and the little window I had plugged in to write the entry got taken up by an unexpected invitation to join friends for cocktails at Quod ... and as you may gather from my sidebar, I can rarely bring myself to turn down a cocktail. And the guys at Quod do a mean Margarita: nice and sharp and a good dusting of salt round the rim, just the way I like them!

Unfortunately, today's post is also a short one, as I have friends arriving very soon and am currently running around like a mad thing trying to get everything in order. Tonight I'm having a pre-birthday meal at the wonderful Al-Shami. I am going to be away on my alpine adventures on my actual birthday, so I am having to bring the celebrations forward a little. Not that I mind - spreading out birthdays for as long as possible is something I enjoy all too much! There might be some more cocktails on the cards tonight, too, as the restaurant is rather conveniently situated close to my favourite Oxford cocktail bar: Raouls... 

Although I'll be trying not to over-indulge too much - I don't want to suffer the same sort of indignities as dear little Sir W, who tells us in 'Of Vanitie' (1601) that:

'I haue tasted of more then I haue digested: for at twenty yeares old, I vomited a great deale that I drunke at 19.'