On the bus home earlier this evening. A few stops from home - and was resigning myself to classifying the experience as yet another uneventful ride to not bother reporting on … when it happened. Screech. CRASH! Crash! Commotion. A few minutes later and I was transformed from being an ordinary top-deck passenger trying to read my way through a scavenged-from-the-litter-bin-in Hammersmith-tube-station Evening Standard whilst trying-not-to-be-distracted-by-the-annoying-chap-playing-snake-on-his-Nokia - into being a Major Incident controller. Whilst all the other passenger plebs were gawping at the scene from the bus windows - I was out there like a shot - ascertaining whether anyone was hurt - and directing the operations in the aftermath. Thankfully nobody appeared to be seriously hurt. And no cars exploded - despite the relatively serious damage to at least two of them - and the beloved bus took a significant dent at the back too. But I was awfully concerned for a young girl - perhaps aged 19 - who was holding her head. She was a back seat passenger in one of the cars and apparently took a bump to her head. And although there was no blood or cuts and she was insisting she was OK - I wasn’t so sure and called a paramedic anyway. I left the scene half hour later to many grateful thanks from the girl and her boyfriend. I will probably never know what happens to them going forward - as I am all too aware that delayed reactions to injuries in incidents like this can have awful, far-reaching effects in the future. Adrenaline is a powerful thing you see. I am hoping that she and he will be OK. But I know I will have them on my mind for quite some time.

Unashamedly pinched from Divine Trash:

Remember I ranted on about the irritating fly on my London Bus journey home the other day? you know the one that mysteriously managed to follow me all the way into my home? (Click here to read it if you missed it.)

Well - I am now forced to look at flies in a completely different light: I discovered a grusomely addictive journal (blog) the other day - and have added it to my reading list - it’s called “Autopsy Report - Log of experiences as a Medical Examiner Intern”. It’s about Brian - who works for a Medical Examiner in the US. For those of on this side of the pond that’s probably the US equivalent of the criminal pathologist - you know: cuts up bodies and performs autopsy for forensic investigation purposes. Well - not only is this blog intensley fascinating (as it perfectly complements all the late night forensic crime progarmmes on Discovery/Horizons that I inevitably get immersed in after a hard day’s work) - the author also stresses the growing importance of flies (or Forensic Entomology).
I quote from his most recent entry:

“Those little maggots that are crawling all over dead bodies may be our most accurate and useful tool in actually pinpointing the time of death. Next time you see a fly, remember that if it weren’t for her and all of her dead fleshing loving friends, we would be up to our necks in dead bodies from both humans and animals.”

The increasing importance of Forensic Entomology

“Cause I got too much life
Running through my veins
Going to waste“
Feel - by Robbie Williams (heavily overplayed on Heart 106.2)

Congratulations to Ms.Route79 - who earlier this week “officially” graduated as a Newly Qualified Teacher. Currently serving time at a Primary School in the London Borough of Brent - this moment officially marks the end of over 2 years of hard slog: working during the day as well as studying through to 2am nearly every night for most of that time.

She was privileged(?) to recieve her award from the Rt. Honourouble Stephen Twigg MP - yes - the one who symbolised THE MOMENT of Blair’s New Labour landslide victory in the General Election of 1997. Yep - the moment that Michael Portillo - seemingly un-oustable from his safe seat in Enfield Southgate - was defeated by the outwardly-gay and boyish Stephen Twigg. (Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that moment!)

Go to the Audio/Video section of Views from Broadway to download a condensed pop-video MPEG of the random moments of the ceremony where Ms. Route79 receives her award from the Right Honourable MP at Alexandra Palace in North London.

Noisy squawking seagulls that woke up my went-to-bed-at-1:30am-head at around six this morning. As far as I’m aware there isn’t any sea for around 91 kilometeres - and yet there’s a flock of seagulls that fly round here every day.

Late night conversations with Ms.Route79 about lazy classroom assistants led to some random spying through the spyhole on the front door - which is when I spotted three shadows across the road. Presumed youth. One of them spraying a tag on a wall. And then it occured to me that this is the first time EVER that I’ve caught someone in the act. Something inside me made me open the door - and the shadows quickly disappeared.

Spontaneous nothing

So what better to do this morning than to try to admire by daylight the spray-painted piece of art that in my own little way I helped influence. But the harder I looked the harder it was for me to see it that way. Unlike Fume. Maybe it was my digital camera that wasn’t capturing the art properly? I took a test shot of random things on my surprisingly uncluttered desk. I cleaned the lens and randomly fiddled about with the settings and was about to give up, get up and make myself a cup of tea when I took a closer look at the test picture I just took. I spent the next 10 minutes staring at it. And it oozed an infinity of stories. But I couldn’t bring myself to writing any of them down - as this would destroy the enormity of it. Perhaps that is art?

An Infinity of Stories

Stare at the above picture for a few minutes. Absorb yourself completely in it. What do you think about? (Click on “comments” below and share it with me.)

Lunched at an Indian restaurant with a work-colleague not too far from my office in Hammersmith yesterday. About halfway through our lunch - a couple of older-looking English gentlemen came into the restaurant and were seated at the table next to ours. I could hear what they were ordering - and I was amazed at the sheer QUANTITY of dishes they were going to have! Anyway - something else made me smile - and I initially created this posting for the entertainment of my Asian/Indian readers - but I’m sure everyone will have a laugh at it. If you are Indian/Asian; have you ever cringed at the way in which “Westerners” pronounce “curry” dishes when ordering at the Indian restaurant? Have you ever pronounced the names of the dishes in a “Western” fashion to spare yourself the embarrassment when ordering dishes with your “Western” friends? If you are non-Asian: have you ever wondered if the Indian/Asian waiters who take your order are privately chuckling under their breaths at your feeble attempt to pronounce the names of the dishes on the menu? Click on the menu items on the left to see what I mean. Make sure you have turned up the volume - and also try “rapid-clicking” on different items in quick succession in order to create some interesting yet entertaining restaurant-ordering effects! Enjoy. Allu Gowbie

UPDATE: Due to popular demand (one person asking) the “menu” above has been updated so that when you click on the green “O” icon just to the left of the names of the dishes - you will hear the slightly more authentic pronunciations. OK - I admit that for some of them there’s not a lot in it - perhaps the way in with the letters A and O are said: A’s sounding more like the first part of “Arkansas” - O’s sounding less like the O in “row” but more like the the last part of the word “Arkansas” (i.e. a bit like the o in “whore”). Also - a bit more “rrrr” in the Rs (like A Spanish/Mexican flamenco dancer might proclaim “Ariba!”), less “puh!” in the P’s, more “th” instead of “tuh!”in the T’s.

Today I discovered two fascinating new magazines - one called Indobrit - aimed at young British Asians - and the other called Smoke - a London Peculiar (from Annie Mole’s blog - originally thru Diamond Geezer’s blog) which is aimed at Lodon-o-philes. Both have particularly unique qualities - in both style and coverage - and I am eagerly looking forward to getting them in the post soon!

“It’s the honky tonk women
Gimme, gimme, gimme the honky tonk blues.“
The Rolling Stones - heard on the radio in my car driving down the A1 from Cambridge yesterday

A colloquial English phrase for a choice that is not a choice - either there is only one option, or two options that are equally undesirable or virtually identical. Not to be confused with “catch 22” A catch 22 is when both (or all) choices are contradictory.

Apparently - the origin of the phrase can be traced to a Tobias Hobson (c. 1544-1631) who was a Cambridge stable manager who let horses. He insisted customers take the horse in the stall closest to the door (the next one up) or take none at all. Hence, a Hobson’s choice is no choice at all. Made famous by Milton. Phrase dates to 1660.

And a play by the same name was written by Harold Brighouse in 1914. Some history from Applause Southwest:

Although a prolific and popular playwright and novelist during his lifetime, the reputation of Harold Brighouse today rests almost entirely on his play Hobson’s Choice. Born in Eccles near Salford on 26 July 1882, his mother was a teacher and his father was in the cotton business. Despite gaining a scholarship to Manchester Grammar School, Harold was not a keen student; at seventeen he left school to start work in the textile industry. In 1913, Brighouse’s friend and fellow playwright, Stanley Houghton, fell ill in Venice and died on his return to Manchester. Brighouse put together a memorial edition of Houghton’s plays and, while compiling the book, had discovered a notebook in which Houghton had listed the titles of projected plays. One of these was Hobson’s Choice.

Following the outbreak of war in 1914, Brighouse, at that time in France, made his way to the Channel. The emotional reactions of the other passengers to the impending historical tragedy combined in Brighouse’s mind with the memory of his dead friend and provided the impetus for a new play. It was to take place in the year 1880 because that had been the year in which his parents had decided upon their marriage. It was to be set in the very cobbler’s shop in Eccles to which his mother had taken him as a child to buy his boots. Even the cellar trapdoor of the place would be duplicated exactly. The character of Maggie was to be drawn from that of his sister Hilda. It was as if, in the face of massive hostilities and destruction, Brighouse wished to write a play which would represent all that was most admirable and humane in the Lancashire character. Finally, the title of the play itself would represent a tribute to his late friend.

Hobson’s Choice has been a very popular play over the years - and has staged numerous productions in theatres on both sides of the Atlantic. It was last staged in the West End in 1995. A more recent production was staged at the Royal Exchange in Manchester.

AND NOW - we switch back to the present day: modern-day Asian playwright Tanika Gupta has adapted the famous Brighouse plot - this time Hobson is an anglicised Asian tailor-business owner - with three daughters who help run the shop for no wages. The setting is still Salford, Manchester though! This version of Hobson’s Choice is currently showing at the Young Vic theatre in London and I joined a group of friends from the office to see this yesterday evening - and it was superb! Acting was great - funny throughout - the “feet” scene was absolutely hilarious! And the music, imagery and original stage setting (the act immediately after the interval involved the audience leaving the theatre and going across the road to a disused church for the wedding day scene - complete with bilingual wedding invitations and Indian sweets!) were simply brilliant.

Hari Hobson: “I’m British - I’m middle class, and I’m proud of it!”

The music used to accompany some of the imagery at the end of the show was very infectious - I am determined to get hold of the “soundtrack”! Personally I was a little disappointed that there weren’t many more Asian folks in the audience (even though it was completely sold out) - as this sort of comedy has a great introspective element to it which more of us should laugh at - but it was great to know from the long applause at the end that this was thoroughly enjoyed by everybody. In fact I’ve heard that the show has extended it’s run at the Young Vic due to popular demand.

Check out some the reviews:

The Guardian | Whatsonstage.com | Redhotcurry.com | The British Theatre Guide | The Stage

Thanks to Anita for pointing out a fascinating feature cover-story from last week’s The Week (India’s best-selling weekly news magazine)

Some snippets from the feature:

“Overtaking an autorickshaw, I see its driver put his foot out of the vehicle as if to kick my scooter. I slow down to avoid it, but a friend tells me that it is an accepted sign for a right turn. The autorickshaw drivers here signal with their feet.”

“People open their car doors while driving to spit pan juice. Most vehicles here have a generous red sprinkling.”

The article - called Driving India Crazy points out that around 215 people die EVERY DAY on India’s roads. It seems that in India - all roads lead not to Rome - but to Hospital - or The Morgue. So if you think you have experienced road-rage or traffic chaos in London - then you need to read this article.

That’s what we did on Sunday morning. We live at the King’s Manor - and we drove past the Farm on the River Kenn to get there. But it’s back to normal this week: I will be travelling to work by taking the Route 79 bus to Ealhbeorht’s estate and then get the tube from there to the place with a hammer smithy.

What am I going on about? Well - these are original London place names as they were first recorded!

Harrow = Heathen Temple
Kenton = Farm on the River Kenn
Kingsbury = King’s Manor
Alperton = Ealhbeorht’s estate
Hammersmith = place with a hammer smithy (forge)

There’s loads more where they came from - check out the fascinating origin of London Place Names page. (Discovered whilst browsing TimeOut London)

Preston Road circa 1910

It’s obvious that Mayor Ken has tried real hard to be seen as the “hero of the London bus” system - but just click on the button below to hear what a sorry state the system is in. It’s today’s “problem-report” update from Transport for London. I call this number practically every day - and I’m beginning to like the sound of the lady’s voice so much - I thought I’d create a little pop-song audio-montage of her dulcet tones to a song that I used to remember being played in a fairground many summers ago.

So it’s true. Pigeons DO ride the tubes. I witnessed it for myself yesterday afternoon. On an almost-empty Hammersmith & City train waiting to depart at Hammersmith station. Not only did I witness it - and a number of other pigeons doing the same thing - I surreptitiously managed to capture it on cam:

Pigeon on Hammersmith & City tube train

“High, high, what a feeling to fly
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please“
From “Eagle” by ABBA
(If you click on the lyric extract above - you can sing-a-long to that song Karaoke-style!)

Have a record player? Still use it?

It turns out that a not-insignificant number of us do still use them. And more surprisingly - a not-insignificant number of us still buy vinyl records to play them! An average of around half a 7-inch or 12-inch single every month. I learned this whilst attending an agency presentation at work the other day at which a load of background and market-research material was being Powerpointed onto a big screen.

As I sat there absorbing these facts - my mind started drifting to the time and the place that I bought my first ever record. Leicester - 1983 I think. I was a new boy at High School. My family had just moved to the outskirts of the city from the centre so I had to go to a completely new school - and I stood out like a sore thumb because I was the only Asian guy at the whole school - and I soon became a spectacle for both the curious and the bullies.

However, it only took a few days before I became THE person to hang around with - and it was something rather bizarre that did it: one lunchtime instead of joining everybody in the dinner hall for school dinner (I was ashamed of going into the hall and not having someone to talk to - and people whispering about me behind my back) - I left the school grounds - which I was not supposed to do - and I went out to a local parade of shops, one of which was a second-hand record shop. It was there that I spent my dinner money on my first ever vinyl single purchase:

Denis - by Blondie

When I got back to the school - I got intercepted by a girl “prefect” who wanted to make a point that she was a force to be reckoned with. (Do they still have prefects at schools these days I wonder?). Anyway - said prefect did the prefect-equivalent of a citizens arrest and started to lead me to the deputy-head’s office where I was to be charged with violating school rules. I was warned as I was led down - a crowd of excited kids in tow - that I could end up with a maximum sentence of suspension and expulsion! Anyways - before we got there - my class tutor who just happened to be walking the other way spotted the commotion and stopped us in our tracks and asked the prefect for explanations. At this point I figured that my trial had begun and I had resigned myself to the doom of impending punishment. The prefect played back the accusation of me having left the school grounds without an exit visa at lunchtime - to which I pleaded guilty. Teacher asked me where I had been. I told the truth about the record shop. Teacher asked me what I had bought. I pulled it out of my plastic carrier bag to show her - and there was a torrent of giggles and hooty laughs from the crowd of kids standing there watching. And THIS was the moment that the tide changed for me. The teacher proudly remarked that SHE had been to the SAME record shop - and that SHE had bought a 7-inch single as well - and SHE proudly pulled it out of her plastic carrier bag and showed it to us all - smiling the biggest smile I had seen her smile - and it was BLONDIE ! (Hanging on the Telephone I think.)

The crowd went suddenly, jaw-droppingly silent. And for some reason that I simply cannot explain my eyes started to well with big teardrop. Teacher told prefect to let go of me - and told her that she would deal with me - and sent everyone on their way. I was then taken by teacher to the smoky Staff Room where other teachers were lazing around eating sandwiches and reading newspapers - and led into a quiet corner where there was a record player. My teacher asked me for my record and then proceeded to play it! There were nods of acknowledgement from other teachers in the Staff Room - and I witnessed some foot-tapping from even the “stiff”-looking types. I just COULD NOT believe what was happening. Anyway - to cut what’s becoming a long story short - I was casually told by my teacher that I should get written permission to leave the school grounds next time - but “could I borrow your record tonight?”.

From that day on - my teacher and I had some kind of rapport. I did lend her my record a few days later. And in return she lent me a few of hers - all Blondie I hasten to add! And the story spread like wildfire throughout the school - that I had broken the school rules and that I gotten away with it - and more importantly that the well-liked teacher who shared the same taste in music as me thought I was “cool”. From this day onwards - EVERYBODY wanted to hang around with me (well perhaps not everybody, but mostly the “street”-smart types). EVERYBODY wanted to do what I did. And everybody from that day onwards - started to like Blondie …

“Oh uh huh make it magnificent
Tonight
Right
Oh your hair is beautiful
Oh tonight
ATOMIC!“

Apart from the suffocating humidity and the annoying teenager next to me playing what sounded like Fatboy Slim’s “Right About Now - the Funk Soul Brother” on his walkman at 120 decibels - it was the fly. One of those big black furry ones with the orange eyes. For some unexplainable reason it was crowding MY airspace - not that of any of the forty or so other people on this packed bus - no - JUST MINE.

I tried to ignore it - but it was not trying to ignore me. It was one of those “London Bus” flies - you know: they are more arrogant and persistent than other sorts. This one was doing its damnedest to get to me off the bus. It landed on my arm three times - dive bombed my face a dozen times and tried to get up my nose twice. At one point I was convinced that it was burrowing through my hair. What the f*ck was it about me that got this fly so horny? My shampoo? My hair gel? My aftershave? Sheeeze …

What made it worse was the fact that the journey home was taking twice as long as normal. So after around half hour I switched into “stay cool” mode. I closed my eyes and sat as rock solid still as I could. (This wasn’t so difficult given that the bus was stationary most of the time). At first I heard the buzzing get louder and then fainter- and oscillating like that for around 5 minutes or so. Then it went silent. (Apart from the ching-ching-ching of the walkman-zombie next to me.)

It wasn’t long before the c l o s e - y o u r - e y e s - o n - t h e - b u s hyponisis set in - and I started to drift in and out of sleep-state .…

It must have been 15 minutes later - woken my a sudden jolt of the bus - when I realised that I was only a couple of stops from home. Thank god - I was about to die of humidity poisoning by this point. Anyway - got off bus - got home - went upstairs, got changed - and THEN: As I was folding up my trousers for hanging I heard that DAMN BUZZING again - it looked like it had flown straight out of my trousers! And it was now surveying my house like it owned the place!

Let it be sufficient to say that I spent the next 20 minutes or so trying to woo it out of a window - and I succeeded in the end - but I am really puzzled as to how it transported itself into my house. It was DEFINITELY the same fly …

“Breeze it, buzz it, easy does it.
Turn off the juice, boy!
Go man, go,
But not like a yo-yo schoolboy …“
From West Side Story

… or “Table Tennis” as we in the “51st State” know it by.

This has been doing the rounds - so apologies of you’ve already seen it. Personally I think it’s both original and entertaining:

(Should fire up Windows Media Player or equivalent - please be patient. It’s worth it!)

Rather lovingly - this is the nickname I give to the 3rd floor of the office block that I work in. Why? Because there are five floors in total - but the 3rd floor is where all the action is.

Let me take you on a tour …

We’ll start with the 1st floor. The 1st floor is not a floor inhabited by office workers. It’s a mysterious floor really - because the lift cannot go there unless you have a special key that magically gets the lift to stop there. It’s a “service-only” floor - kind of like a loading bay for incoming and outgoing goods. Whatever: I call it the “club level”; you need to be endowed with a certain privilege to get to the 1st floor.

The 2nd floor is where the dry, seriously techno-geeks work. It’s also where HR have their little corner. That probably explains why it’s a really quiet floor. It’s so hushed whenever I go there. Strangely discreet and silent. I always feel like I’m on some sort of clandestine mission whenever I alight on the 2nd floor.

And so to the 4th floor. This is the domain of the finance and legal guys. They occupy over half of the whole floor. The rest is a strange mixture of marketing types and trendies. But an “accountant” sort of trendy. I’d say it’s a “menacing” sort of floor. You’ve got to watch your back on this floor.

And then up to the 5th floor. Now we are getting seriously trendy. This is where the Apple-Mac-loving “luvvies” hang out: yep a mixture of brand evangelists and web designers who will readily proclaim “I’m not technical” at the drop of a hat. Youngsters sporting apparel emblazoned with “Atari” and “Lonsdale” icons - all of them probably not old enough to have lived through the eras within which these icons reigned supreme.

And finally: saving the best until last, is the 3rd floor. Yep - this is my home. This is where the really interesting people hang out. It’s a really “happening” floor so to say. It’s a melting pot of Operations folks, techies, commercial types, external subcontractors and hot-deskers. It’s a hotbed of cultural diversity (you name it - we have it on the 3rd floor) - a buzzing microcosm of intellectual high-ground infused with bohemian beatnik-ism. I love the 3rd floor. It’s where I spend most of my waking life. It must be the most popular floor by far. And I know so for a fact. I have proof. Below is picture of the button-panel in our lift. The most pressed button is the 3rd floor button. In fact - it’s such a desirable floor to go to - the button has had much more wear and tear than any other. So much so that it must have fallen out recently - because I noticed that it had been put back on the wrong way around. But that doesn’t matter to me. No - in fact it’s a perfect symbol of how “happening” a place the 3rd floor is.

The 3rd floor - the coolest floor to be based on

“Hey life, look at me
I can see the reality
‘Cause when you shook me, took me, outta my world
I woke up
Suddenly I just woke up to the happening“
By Diana Ross & The Supremes

Here is the illustrated recipe and cooking instructions for a dinner you can cook up when you’ve run out of ideas - or you can’t be bothered to go out shopping for any fresh ingredients - or the shops have closed and you’ve not got a lot in your fridge. It is a delicious “comfort food” dish that is the sort of thing we in the Route79 household prepare when there’s nothing else to cook out in the house - except for the most basic of ingredients and a tactical tin of sardines! And I am calling it “Pilchard Rice”.

Here goes:

What you need is a couple of onions, a couple of potatoes and a tin of sardines (pilchards - same thing) - but make sure you get the tomato version - not the “brine” version! You also need to have access to the basic set of spices:

Place the nearly-full cup of rice (basmati) into a sieve and leave to rinse under a cold running tap for a few minutes. Then drain over the measuring cup. (You can peel the onions and potatoes whilst the rice is rinsing.)

OK - so having peeled the onion and potatoes - then open up the sardine tin and empty it into a deep dish - all the fish and juices - just pour it all out. Then take each piece of fish from the dish with a fork and a knife and place it onto plate - and slit it carefully into two - in order to remove the bone. Discard the bones in the original can. (Some people like to leave the bone in - it is very delicate is very edible as a good source of calcium - but I don’t personally like the texture.)

Then dice the potatoes and put them into a small pan for part-boiling. For convenience -boil some water in the kettle and when it’s done - pour it into the potato pan and simmer for around 7 minutes. Also chop the onion coarsely:

Fry the onion - and also defrost some chunks of frozen garlic, ginger and chillie from your freezer. (If you don’t have these then hard luck. Every 3 months or so you should go to your local Asian grocer and buy loads of fresh garlic, ginger and chillie (in bulk) - and then spend a Sunday morning peeling it all, washing it, and zapping it to a pulp in the food processor before spreading the pulp into freezer bags and freezing it. This is a very convenient way to have the essential ingredients to hand within seconds. You can do the same with coriander: especially at this time of the year - the local grocer will probably be selling 3-bunches for a pound - and these are HUGE bunches - not the measly, nicely-packaged stuff you get for £1.79 in Safeway - no: these bunches of coriander will be around 30 times as big - for about half the price. Just wash it all in a sink when you get it home and then discard any wilting leaves and finely chop it all up using a knife and then fill up a couple of freezer bags and chuck it in the freezer.)

Whilst the onion is cooking off - add some jeera (cumin seed) if you have some - as this will make it tastier. If not - don’t worry. Then stir in the tomato “juices” from the tin of sardines: the bits that were left in the deep dish after you removed all the bones:

It is at this point that you need to add the spice: around 1 teaspon each of haldi (turmeric), red-chillie and ground coriander, two heaped teaspoons of garam masala - and around half a teaspon of salt. Stir it all in on a powerful simmer so that the spices really fuse into the tomoato juice mixture. Do this for around 4 minutes or so.

Then - after frying for a few minutes - add the drained part-boiled potato chunks - give it a really good stir around - and then add the drained rice:

Stir it a bit - until everything is well coated. Then add about 1.5 times the volume of rice of water (approx. 1.5 cups) - stir it in - and bring to the boil on a really fierce flame.

Just before the mixture starts to boil - add the fish pieces - stirring really slowly and carefully so you don’t break them up too much. Then add some fresh chopped coriander leaf you have some: the more the merrier!

Bring back to a fierce boil - and then when it starts to get really violent drop the flame down the LOWEST that you can get. Put the lid on (with the vent fully open) and let it simmer for around 25 mins.

About halfway through - take off the lid and give the contents a gentle turning over. Put the lid back on and let it simmer for another 15 mins or so. (DONT KEEP TAKING THE LID OFF TO SEE HOW ITS GOING) Then - after half hour or so - it should be done - the rice will be all fluffy (not sloppy) - just put the lid on the pan slightly lop-sided and let it rest with the flame turned off for around 15 mins. After that it will be ready to serve!

Just scoop generous spoonfulls onto a plate - and garnish with sliced cucumber and lemon juice or slices. This is a delicious meal! (Spoon any leftovers into a bowl and cover with clingfilm - stick into fridge and it should last a couple of days no problem. Just microwave on high heat for a few minutes to reheat the next day or so!)

Goodness - I haven’t updated this journal for nearly a week!

But I have been updating the Lomo gallery. Am now beginning to experience the signs of what I’m calling “Lomo fatigue” - but I still think the pictures are great - even the ones that didn’t come out right!

Click here to see more larking-around, shopping and going-to-work Lomo pics!

Ms.Route79 came back from Brent Cross Shopping Centre yesterday and proudly demonstrated a new type of “miracle cloth” to a rather sceptical moi. The claim was that it could clean all manner of surfaces - greasy, stained, limescaled-up etc. by simply wiping the the dampened-with-water miracle cloth over it. Yeah right .…

Well - we tried it on the stainless steel of the kitchen sink and taps - and it worked! Previously we’d had to use something like Cif or Flash to get it sparkling. We also tried to remove a six-month old squashed-daddy-long-legs stain from the matt-painted, plaster-wall in the kitchen: a little tactical rubbing with the miracle cloth; and it worked! We tried rubbing the miracle cloth over everything we could think: it removed the sticky residue that had built up over the last 12 months on the top of the portable TV in the kitchen - and it also made our oven door reflect like a mirror again - with just water!

We honestly felt JUST LIKE the ordinary people you see in the obscure sattelite TV channel ads endorsing those miracle things like salad cutters, cleaning fluids and steam-cookers.

Sunday afternoon errands. Jump into car. Ignition. Temperature reads 24. But as always - it feels a lot hotter inside the car after it’s been parked in the sunshine all day. My hand automatically reaches for the aircon control - will only take a minute or two for the cold blast.

Why not just wind down the windows like in the good old days? So - for extra effect I went back inside the house. Ran upstairs two steps at a time. Pulled out box from under bed - full of old odds and ends - including a few music cassettes - one of which I grabbed. That’s the one I wanted! Wiped the dust off it as I ran downstairs and back into the car. Fed the cassette into the player and through the clear-plastic cassette housing I nervously watched the old leader tape wind on as it started to play. I was hopeful … and sure enough the crackle of the first bit of brown tape was buzzing just fine. I was on my way with the windows wound right down and the volume cranked right up. And it felt good!

Well I finally got my first roll of film from my Lomo cam developed! (Click here for my Lomo arrival story)

And after scanning the negatives using my Epson Perfection 1240U Photo scanner with transparency adapter - I selected a few of the frames, cropped the parts that I wanted to present, put them through Photoshop to adjust “levels” and “sharpness” and published them to my “gallery” website: etongrove.com.

And I am pleased. Hope you enjoy the pics!

Kingsbury Fruit & Veg. Click here to see more at my Lomo gallery

American Day of Independence. So - we’ll now cut to a scene from the billiant Westside Story by Robbins (concept), Laurents (story), Sondheim (lyrics) and Bernstein (musical composition):

Although some of the Jets gang regret the killings, an edgy and tense Action vows to get even: “They’re gonna pay, them stinkin’ Sharks.” Ice urges everyone to “play it cool” until the crisis blows over.

Play it cool

Now click on the button below to hear the genius of Bernstein in the highest possible fidelity (yes I know it’s a long download - approx 2.8 meg but there is simply no way I am going to compromise on the quality of this amazing piece of composition). The song is “Cool” and just imagine as you listen to this - that this piece of orchestral “jazz” was composed around 50 years ago.

Turn up the volume, close your eyes, picture the scene - and immerse yourself in the brilliance of Bernstein at his best. God bless America.

OK - I finally found that song that was buggin’ me for so long - the one that I mentioned in my “Woking” entry from a few weeks ago. The seventies song called “Jeans On” by a chap called David Dundas (thanks to Nigel). Don’t ask me how I remember it - because I was a very young kid at the time - and I’m pretty sure it was a pretty awful song in its day - especially given that it was produced as a song for a TV advert for “Brutus Jeans” - remember them? I have a vague recall. Actually - I’ll take that back - I just found out that the song was a number 1 hit in the UK music charts for three weeks! And was the first ever “Jeans” ad music to become a hit. Yep way before Levis seemed to set a trend with people taking their jeans off in a laundromat etc.

Anyway - I thought I’d celebrate the closure of this issue by producing a Shockwave montage of images from the seventies with the “Jeans On” musical accompaniment. Most of the images I stole from various nostalgia sites - and I selected the seventies images I remember most in the few minutes that I had to gather them. Click on the smiley below to load the Flash and be sure to turn up the volume - because despite the song being so old - it has an infectious quality to it and is best heard LOUD! Enjoy …

Yep - I’ve been out of action for a few days - and, unsurprisingly, nothing eventful enough to report has happened. Lots of dull and uneventful things to not report have happened though - but I’ll report them anyway:

• Today is Canada Day. Happy Canada Day to all Canadians! (My CEO is a Canadian so I guess I’d better proclaim happiness for today.)

• To get to work I normally take Route 79 bus to Alperton from Kingsbury - and then get the Piccadilly Line tube from there to Hammersmith. But the last few days I’ve been getting the Jubilee Line from Kingsbury to Baker Street and then getting the Hammersmith & City Line to Ham from there. Why? Because there are major road-narrowing works going on in Ealing Road Wembley that is causing the bus to get stuck in traffic jam in the mornings. Despite my love for Route 79 - I cannot live with unpredictable journey times to work - so I’ve being going by tube instead. However, I’ve still been travelling home by bus - so my loyalty has not faded …

• I helped myself to an A4-sized “Black & Red” notebook from the stationery cupboard in the office at work today. I was really pleased with it.

• Yesterday the postman dropped a card through my letterbox whilst nobody was home indicating that a letter was being held for me at the depot because it was too big to fit through my letterbox. So - rather excitedly I finished work early today to go to the depot to pick up my mysterious package. How disappointed I was when I found out that it was just 20 rolls of 35mm Fuji Film that I ordered from a website over a week ago. I was annoyed because I’d specifically asked them to deliver the goods to my work address so that I could avoid having to go to the depot in the first place.

• My OysterCard arrived in the post today. I am really looking forward to use this card because the whole concept is really swish. (Yes I am sad.)

• This evening my Uncle-in-law from Southall ‘phoned to say hello. The last time he ‘phoned out of the blue was over a year ago.

• Tonight we can’t be bothered to cook - so me and Ms.Route79 are having Marks & Spencer double pepperoni pizza with Safeway garlic baguette for dinner. But to add a touch of the exotic we are going to liberally sprinkle some freshly-plucked basil leaf over the pizza - and we are having a home-prepared salad accompaniment (that includes crunchy red radish) tossed with Kraft French vinaigrette Dressing. Don’t you think that’s really exciting?

Fresh Basil

“I’m so excited,
And I just can’t hide it,
I’m about to lose control
And I think I like it.“
I’m so excited - by the Pointer Sisters