(no subject)
Sweet bitch of time, why hast though foresaken us? By which I mean: Oh golly - I've not updated in here since October. You can blame my super new client, if that satisfies you. They keep me busy most days, while my nights are haunted by the walking dead.
To update you on what has taken place in the past three months would take at least six months at current rates, so here is the reader's digest version:
They filmed one of the Twilight movies in Montepulciano, and by all accounts the cast stayed in the same hotel as us, but thankfully at a different time. Montepulciano is thus marked by the fact that every other shop has a topless photo of Robert Pattinson in the window, which endeared me to the city even less.
A day trip to the stunning cliff-side town of Pitigliano helped quench our boredom, while a day in Siena was a true highlight. We ended the holiday in the ancient walled city of Lucca, which turned out not to be all that ancient at all, and for our third anniversary we ate at the same delicious restaurant twice in a row, and also climbed a tower with oak trees growing out of the top.
One thing I had not expected of Tuscany was that the food primarily sucked. They are, as a people, obsessed with cured meats, sausages and cheese. It was near impossible to access a vegetable, and even the foods we did like - wild boar papardelle with rosemary and juniper being a notable favourite - became tiresome due to the total lack of variety. I'm used to the more mediterranean towns ofItaly - like the sunny ports on Sardinia, where the heart of the city is the market place and one can buy fresh tomatoes and amazing fruits which were just picked that morning. In Tuscany, however, they only have butchers shops - hundreds of the bastards - and then a handful of places selling cheese.
To update you on what has taken place in the past three months would take at least six months at current rates, so here is the reader's digest version:
- We went up to Otley at the end of October, and I really cannot recall why. It was fun, anyway, and our visit included clambering around the odd rock formations of Brimham Rocks. As usual, history has given grand names to the different formations - like 'The Eagle' and 'The Butterfly' - but when you look at them all you can make out is 'The Seriously Malformed Bird' or 'The Cancer-Encrusted Moth'. It was, despite this, a pleasure.
- The following weekend marked the Last Picnic of 2010, and Spim, Clara, Paul, Patrick and I all met up to drink Prosecco In The Park. Patrick agreed to this without even knowing what prosecco was (he is American, and I expect the EU can't stop them calling it champagne there), and we didn't even get to do it in the park since it was so cold and wet. We ended up having drinks in the National Gallery's bar and then brunch somewhere up the road.
- My parents came to visit for the weekend on 12 November. We ate at the Black Orchid in Muswell Hill and The Tufnell Park Tavern, and both were splendid places to eat, although Julie's John did tell my mum a cock joke. We watched Yes, Prime Minister on stage, which was a very satisfactory reworking of the telly show with some slight character changes to fit the skills of the actors, and rather more child prostituion. We also went to the Wildlife Photographer of the Year award, which makes one realise just how skilful some photographers are. A particular favourite was a shot of a lion through a gaping hole in the neck of a zebra, while some ants eating a leaf were also satisfactory.
- Paul and I went to Tuscany from 20-28 November, about which I can mainly report that Tuscany shuts down out of season. The wee medieval town of San Gimignano was consequently a stunning place: San G. is usually packed to the rafters with tourists and one cannot see the hand in front of ones face for backpacks, cameras and the shrill cry of the American tourguide, but in chilly November we had the place to ourselves. It was in equal parts thrilling and comforting to stalk through the narrow winding streets utterly alone, an experience only marred by the fact there was no where really to go. The experience became ludicrous once we'd shifted base to Montepulciano, where 95% of everything was shut, and it was literally impossible to find a wine bar which served after 7pm.
They filmed one of the Twilight movies in Montepulciano, and by all accounts the cast stayed in the same hotel as us, but thankfully at a different time. Montepulciano is thus marked by the fact that every other shop has a topless photo of Robert Pattinson in the window, which endeared me to the city even less.
A day trip to the stunning cliff-side town of Pitigliano helped quench our boredom, while a day in Siena was a true highlight. We ended the holiday in the ancient walled city of Lucca, which turned out not to be all that ancient at all, and for our third anniversary we ate at the same delicious restaurant twice in a row, and also climbed a tower with oak trees growing out of the top.
One thing I had not expected of Tuscany was that the food primarily sucked. They are, as a people, obsessed with cured meats, sausages and cheese. It was near impossible to access a vegetable, and even the foods we did like - wild boar papardelle with rosemary and juniper being a notable favourite - became tiresome due to the total lack of variety. I'm used to the more mediterranean towns ofItaly - like the sunny ports on Sardinia, where the heart of the city is the market place and one can buy fresh tomatoes and amazing fruits which were just picked that morning. In Tuscany, however, they only have butchers shops - hundreds of the bastards - and then a handful of places selling cheese.
- When we got home, we ordered Indian food from Tiffin Tin and it was the best meal of the holiday.
- We were supposed to go to Derby on 3 December, but the arctic weather cast doubt on the operation of the UK public transport system. Although we were certain we could get to Derby, there was significnat doubt about whether we'd ever make it back. Now, Derby isn't exactly Milton Keynes, but I'd still prefer not to be trapped there in the snow.
- The following week I took a couple of days off, and played House Husband for four days. It was initially a terrific experience - I did the household shopping, made a vast batch some sort of figgy mustard, did all the laundry and cleaned the house, and still had three-and-a-half days left to go - but by day four I was half insane with boredom. I do not, it seems, cope well with the solitary life.
- Last weekend, we had supper with Terriem in the Black Orchid again - which is fast becoming my new Old Faithful Restaurant, and thus is sure soon to disappoint - and then went round to Babu Anna's house for her first birthday. She got a range of presents, but none was as warmly welcomed as our giant orangutan hand puppet, Clive, with whom Babu Anna spent most of the day wrestling. On the Sunday we met with Spim and Clara for Christmas Dinner at the Grenadier near Hyde Park. It's a superb place for a cozy winter meal, and the service was second to none: we foolishly ordered two bottles of wine more than we were capable of drinking, and while in any normal pub you'd end up drunk off your face, at the Grenadier the waitress cunningly forgot them entirely and so we left merely sozzled.
- We went home and watched the final episodes of Strictly Come Dancing and The Apprentice, both of which seemed rather lack lustre endings to rather drab series. For this reason we did not indulge in the BBC's 'Young Fishmonger of the Year Awards 2010' show, which strikes me as so much scraping the bottom of the barrel they're at risk of pulling up only splinters.