Big Smoke Tavern

Ding-dong the Screws is Dead

My only claim to anything News of the World-y is a story I wrote in 2008 as a staff reporter for a London-based news agency. It was about gigantic eco-offensive sunlamps used at Emirates Stadium to keep the pitch green all year round. Click here to read before it's taken down, unless the NOTW website gets archived into what we can only guess will be the Sun on Sunday.

 

Bummer is though, there's a big typo in the headline. So despite the work that went into it (read below) I bury it in my cuttings. 

My story got sold, rewritten - Screwed if you like - and a NOTW byline slapped on, something you learned to be OK with pretty much immediately working for a news agency.

As was often the case in that job, because I was always rushing to submit multiple stories, crucial and trivial constituent parts of bigger stories, raw investigative and shoeleather research, I missed my pitch sunlamps story  and never got a cut of the hardcopy.

What I do have is a web printout, detailed memories of the week-long ordeal and a rather hilarious set of pictures of me getting the story, thanks to the good-humoured pap who was as always getting the pictures to go w/ the story -and helping to make light of the crazy ass shit we were asked to do in the name of news.

I was sent by my boss, whose idea the story was, on a tour of Emirates Stadium to get as much on the lights as I could whilst pretending to be an Arsenal fan.

The shots of me in the players' quarters show the funny side of me not caring enough about football to appreciate the cool gig I was on.

The other agency reporter was a big Gunners fan but had been sent to Wales or something that day to work on something dull. He was livid.

He got his revenge by making fun of how long after my stadium tour I was still working on the story. Most days we got through several stories before being sent across town or out of it to work on something else. Every time I filed this story they wanted more. I must have filled half a notepad with shorthand and figures on wattage, voltage, pitch conditions, grass and soil science and EU environmental law.

I recall sitting in Starbucks at Green Park for several hours phoning, among a dozen or so experts the same electrical engineer over and over to ask him more about big fucking lightbulbs and mathematical detail proving how the lighting rigs being on year-round equated to the energy needed to light up a small town.

 But when it got Screwed it got stripped of much of the science it was packed with when it left my laptop.

 Since the shock announcement that the NOTW would shut forever, I see how an earlier chapter of my reporting life hovers in the timeline of the red top's phone hacking scandal.

As a Richmond and Twickenham Times reporters I, along with five others, covered the double murder trial (and one attempted) of Milly Dowler's killer, Levi Bellfield.

For four months we reported on the trial and each of us has powerful memories of the verdict reading. I was perched on the edge of a table with a French journalist inches from attempted murder victim Kate Sheedy and her family, and feet away from the quiet and dignified French parents of murdered student Amelie Delagrange. Stories of the abyssal sadness in their lives since hearing their daughter was dead haunted me for years. I still often recall a section of the Delagrange's post-verdict statement about Amelie's childhood love of crocuses in early spring.

 


Kate Sheedy, above, and parents of Amélie Delegrange

photos by Colleen McDonnell

Since the news broke that Milly Dowler's phone messages were allegedly  accessed by the NOTW and messages deleted giving false hope to her family and potentially altering the police investigation I, like a lot of journalists, have been asked how far is too far when it comes to getting the story.

In my experience if you are employed to get information and stories directly or indirectly for a British national newspaper tabloid or otherwise, you're going to end up pushing the boundaries. I was never directly asked do anything illegal. All that is expected is that you get the story and get it quickly.

They don't want to know how you plan to get more when everything else hasn't worked, and don't dare ask how they suggest you get it when they still want you to get it and the kosher methods have come up dry.

If you've got it you're in a good place - you're on fire in fact. If you've failed, you get punished and points stack against you.

 I did some things I should be ashamed of. I harassed relatives of baby killers, spied, rummaged, got kicked out of a mosque, twice. I doorstepped all walks of celebrity and political life with such frequency it became an addiction, got chased at a respectable clip down an entire residential block and around a corner by a Hollywood actor's wife who, when I stopped asked me "why?" To which I answered "because I have a dumb job".

That was intended for her to let me on my way. I loved my job even though in the darkest hours I questioned why I just didn't quit and dramatically improve my mental and physical health.

What is intensely worthwhile to me as a reporter and as news consumer is truth.

I don't have time for slapdash reporting, premature facts on breaking stories that aren't cushioned with heavy caution that they might not be true, speculation without a diamond backboned source giving it oxygen with their own comments, which brings me to my biggest pet hate: unattributed quotes. 

Watching, observing, rummaging, listening, investigating, going there, digging, waiting, going back and then going back again and again, that is the truth. That is reporting.

Confusing the broken hearts of a bereaved family by deleting messages is is arrogance.

Proper journalists want to report the truth. Others want a story, the truth they could take or leave. 

Kate Wore My Wedding Gown - Kinda

And she wore her hair half-up half-down like I did. We both carried a dainty bouquet of small white flowers.

When I got married in November 2007 I thought it would be about a year and a half before the majority of brides stopped wearing strapless and started wearing long-sleeved lace designs. Years ago I worked in fashion forecasting and that's pretty much how long it takes for a bold shift in looks to take hold. But the strapless wedding gown kept going and going strong...until Friday.

Obviously Grace Kelly's 1956 gown, designed by Hollywood costume designer Helen Rose was the inspiration for both mine and Kate's. What's interesting is that we both changed the skirt. The bottom half of Kelly's dress was divine, but I felt it wouldn't suit me so I asked my dressmaker to add a slightly Edwardian style skirt based on a picture I'd found in a bridal magazine.

Sarah Burton and Kate decided on a fuller skirt shape with inverted pleats...and some phenomenally special Irish needlework completed under moonlight by Anne Boleyn's seamstresses in the sacred caverns of Hampton Court Palace.

I still prefer my skirt and believe it to match the spirit of the design, but Kate's was majestic and regal and hit the mark for such a momentous occasion.

Other major differences betwixt my gown and The Duchess's:

- Neckline: mine was buttoned up, not open V

- Waist: mine was cumberbun ruched

- Shade: mine was all ivory, not white and ivory

- Veil:  mine had a more orthodox richness like Kelly's except I wore my hair down at the back, not worn with a crown

- Cost: my gown cost $1,469 (or £705 - converted using Nov '07 rates) and was made by Carolyn Humphrey of Oklahoma City for little ole me, not untold cost and made by Sarah Burton, creative director at McQUEEN for the future Queen of England

Also on Kate's gown there was some bombdiggity bustle action, a kind of structured coattail which on closer inspection must have been part of the skirt. But it was the only bit on her gown, to me, that looked properly McQUEEN. Sculpted, a tad avant guard and sexy-fierce.

 I know I'm a bit of a braggadouche for writing this post, but I just feel a bit left out or something with everybody going apeshit over this dress because despite the differences mentioned and not mentioned above, when I first saw Kate and her father drive past us in Horse Guards Parade on Friday and even now studying the official photos, I see my dress.  

 

THE DRESS hullabalou is also interesting because to me it's quite a Catholic design. For several years before I even got engaged I knew I wanted Grace Kelly's gown. It was this picture that sparked it.

 

And this one.

I was just as irritatingly clandestine as Kate about my dress design ahead of our big day. Nobody outside my mother, father, sister, best friend and the dressmaker knew what it was like, even remotely.

One week before my wedding I showed my dear friend Sarah Bell, who in her very honest unhurtful way took one look at it on the hanger and said it was 'unique' or interesting or something like that.  That actually slightly scared me, in spite of how sure I was about it. What I'm saying is that it was different. A lot of guests loved my gown, but had never seen anything like it - and astonishingly didn't make the clear connection to Grace Kelly's gown, which was genuinely unique. As opposed to mine which was a copy of it with a twist. 

 

 

It makes me happy that Kate and I share the same bridal taste, despite her being dissed in the past for lacklustre fashion choices. In looks and temperament she's as lovely as they come.

I'll dive into the Official Royal Wedding Photo Album to prove it. This is a shot of the couple heading back inside the palace from the balcony after the famous kiss and fly by. My mom described it best, noticing how the Queen and the rest of them royals rushed back inside, but Kate lingered and took this one magnificent look back at the crowds.

Mom: "As if to say, I'm not leaving you, I'm just going inside for a bit but I will not forget you."

And Mamma is never wrong about women.

 

THE END

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postscript

Above: Our own photo of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge going past us in Horse Guards Parade, and my husband Ben and I in the euphoric throngs along The Mall last Friday, 29 April 2011 

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All photos of my wedding day were taken by

Charlotte Bromley-Davenport

&

All my wedding flowers were arranged by

Paul Johnstone of WILDBUNCH in Richmond

Egg-quisite #Chocolate - William Curley

Recently after a long break from having William Curley chocolates in my life I bought a couple of truffles on a swift dash through Richmond, took them home, sat down on the kitchen stool and took a bite. My reaction was akin to Richard Burton’s when he first laid eyes on Elizabeth Taylor – the flavour so extraordinarily beautiful I nearly laughed out loud. 

It was about a year ago that I realised I had stopped eating normal chocolate immediately after discovering William Curley’s in 2005. By normal chocolate I mean the candy bars (I’m American) I grew up on and even chocolate cake. For years my mother joked that I had to have my chocolate fix at some point every day. Now I don’t even eat Green and Black’s Organic. My palate just can’t be bothered.     

Back in the day as a reporter for the Richmond and Twickenham Times (our offices were located near The Green, a stone’s throw from William Curley’s shop) come Holy Week I’d throw deep-seated journalistic integrity aside and commit all the shameless lobbying needed to get William as the Easter Weekend splash. It wasn’t a hard sell to the editor, most of the time William would have just won some ridiculously prestigious accolade, like Britain’s Best Chocolate. There he'd be on the front of the paper pictured next to a massive chocolate egg or ladelling up a dark melted scoop: our own Willy Wonka of Richmond, The Cacao King.  

Yesterday I sat down with William to catch up on his business and to basically talk about chocolate.  I told him about his creations having miraculously cured my lifelong (commercial) chocolate addiction and asked if he found that at all ironic or amusing.

“We’ve all been there, big bar of high street chocolate and you can just keep eating it and it’s so, so moreish and you can’t stop. I grew up like that as well. I would have eaten lots of poor quality mass-produced confectionary. 

“But it’s a bit like wine, once you know what the good stuff is like you think, gosh I want more of that. And because good quality chocolate is not oversaturated with sugar and fats that are very addictive, you don’t eat as much so your actual craving is quite a short hit. You can be satisfied quite quickly.”

I didn’t tell him about suppressing laughter while eating one of his truffles on my kitchen stool all by my lonesome, but I knew exactly what he meant. Once you go quality in life, you never go back.

Last week William won yet more golds and a silver award from The Academy of Chocolate: Best Filled Chocolate - Fruit for Yuzu (Best in Category, Gold); Best Filled Chocolate - Spice and Herb for Tarragon and Mustard (Gold); Best Filled Chocolate - Caramel (Gold); Best Milk Truffle (Gold) and Best Flavoured Dark Barf for Rosemary and Sea Salt(Silver).  

I thought Easter's a good time to get educated about chocolate. You may already know the differences between your Cadbury or KitKat versus fine chocolate, but in case you don't and you want to refine your chocolate intake, William kindly and patiently explained the basics of what makes exquisite chocolate. 

Criollo Forastero, Trinitario | cacao pods contain beans used to make chcolate

“You’ve got mass-produced chocolate and fine chocolate and it’s probably 90% to 10% or even higher. 

"The three types of cacao are: Criollo, Forastero, Trinitario. Forastero is the dominant species. All cacao grows 10 to 20 degrees north and south of the equator, but Forastero dominates the market in all the areas. It’s widely grown in western Africa. I think 80% of cacoa globally comes from western Africa. 

"Then you’ve got South America and the Carribean. In those areas Forastero will still grow, but you also have Criollo. Cacao is actually indigenous to South America, that’s where it all started. Over time it’s been taken to other parts of the world. It’s mainly the Forastero that’s been able to be grown in those other parts. The difference between a Forastero and a Criollo is huge. The Forastero’s got chocolatey notes, but it can be quite bland and short and doesn’t have that wonderful depth when you taste the chocolate. Criollo has all those things, and when it’s processed correctly it can be very smooth, elegant, round and has all different sorts of notes so when you’re tasting raspberry, cherry, cinnamon, tobacco – they are more  likely to be Criollo beans.

"There’s also the Trinitario, which is a cross between the two. About a hundred years ago or so there was a massive hurricane in Trinidad and after it they tried to regrow Criollos, but they couldn’t so they found a cross between the two to make the Trinitario.

"Criollo is susceptible to bacteria, it doesn’t like hurricanes, it’s quite a weak plant so up until the 80s when the fine market started to develop, wherever in the world, farmers grew Forastero because it’s robust, strong and they got the same price as for the Criollo. So maybe not in the Chuao Valley in Venezuela (famed for its beans), but in a part of the Caribbean which could grow Criollo they would still grow Forastero because you know you’d get the same price for your beans. In the 80s that started to change. Smaller companies started to send agronomers to those areas to do research and really the whole understanding of the cacao changed a lot."

Fermentation and Drying

"Cacao pods all grow on trees, they all get cut open, the beans get scooped out. The next step is how it’s processed. Fermentation and drying are crucial to encourage the flavour to come out. If they’re dried in the right environment, say on a sunny day and there are lots of raspberry trees around, the beans might draw some of those wonderful flavours. To do that - time and money. Easy way to do it is to ferment but then dry them in a big tumble dryer. Once they’re dried they go back to manufacturing plants. 

"Amedei is, in my opinion the best chocolate in the world. The size of their operation compared to some of the big guys is phenomenal. When they produce it they refine it, crush it into a paste, add more coco butter, sugar, vanilla. Those are the key clean ingredients. 

"Of course you can add other fats, vegetable fats and other hydrogenated fats or whatever else you want to add  - that has an impact on flavour of course."  

Conching 

"The final stage is conching, it’s a Spanish word. They used to have three big shells that go round, the chocolate would be melted and it would help make it smooth and take out tannings that may be in it.

"The longer you conch it the better it becomes. The longer you conch it the more expensive it becomes. So high street chocolate could be conched two to six hours. A higher end high street could be seven to 12 hours. When you get to the fine stuff it could be 40, 50, 50 or even 70 hours. 

"Quality of beans and quality production is going to give you good chocolate. I work with Amedei and that’s what I’m about. I make cakes, biscuits, chocolates, ice cream you name it and chocolate is my core ingredient, my most important ingredient, so as a chef I want it to be the absolute best it can be.  

"We buy big blocks of what we call couverture which means quality. From there we’ll melt that and do whatever with it."

Can we all just say AMEN to that? I feel I've been to CHOCOLATE school. Amen again.

This is a big year for William and his Japanese wife Suzue - they have all but inked a deal to open a concession in an iconic London department store which can't yet be named but which will no doubt be a match made in heaven. And just last month the couple came out with a chocolate making manual, William and Suzue Curley's Chocolate Manual, published just in Japan.

Last but not least, at the end of 2011 comes a gorgeous hardback cookbook that required 16 days just for the photography. The title of what will surely be a massive Christmas hit with Britain's chocolate-obsessed public is still under wraps, but I can reveal the book, published by Jacqui Small will be available for sale on Amazon and in William Curley's shops.  

The Chocolatier promises it will be packed with stunning photos and detailed recipes covering all the William Curley products: patisseries, chocolates, cakes biscuits, ice cream and drinks. What's more, he's rather excited about it. "It will be the best chocolate book ever printed in the UK by a long way." I don't doubt him for a minute - everything about the William Curley brand is exquisite, from food preparation to packaging. 

Both shops also offer courses in Truffles and Sea Salt Caramel making. Plus there are courses for children. William says the courses are fun, hands on and you take home what you make.

For the moment, if you've not got your Easter egg yet or for whatever reason you've never tried William Curley chocolate - go by one of his shops or have a look online (all addresses listed below). They'll be open until 8pm this evening and from 10-6 Easter Sunday and Easter Monday.

William's personal recommendations this Easter: Any of the Japanese-inspired chocolates (Toasted Sesame, Japanese Black Vinegar) and Muscovado Caramel.

Read more about William and Suzue Curley's chocolate empire here and here. 

 

William Curley Patissier Chocolatier shops

198 Ebury Street, Belgravia SW1W 8UN | 020 77305522

10 Paved Court, Richmond TW9 1LZ| 020 8332 3002

williamcurley.co.uk

 

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My Old Man: #Japan

HELP VICTIMS IN JAPAN - DONATE

 He’s a farmer now, but for decades my father was a high-flying international businessman. Even now he is frequently asked – “is there any country you haven’t been to?” and “what’s the most beautiful country in the world?” 

Growing up, I was always aware my father had a particular fondness for the Japanese. From the early 70s until his retirement in 2003 he travelled to Japan several times a year, working conferences and trade shows, visiting customers and soaking up the culture. Whatever the weather, my dad peppers his phone messages with a ‘hi dozo!’ and always an ‘arigato gozaimashita!’

 Business etiquette has probably relaxed, but back in the day knowing the nuances of a culture - how not to accidentally offend, how to hit the mark with small gestures - was essential, and in places like Japan where manner and custom are so highly regarded, how one handled relationships in and outside the boardroom was often a deal breaker.

In 1992 when I was a junior in high school my father was invited to give a talk to one of my classes about the culture and people of Japan. He started with a question to capture his teen audience’s attention - what do the capitals of Japan (Tokyo) and Oklahoma (Oklahoma City, where my high school was) have in common?

 We all waited.

They share a coordinate in their respective positions on the globe: latitude of 35 degrees north. 

Well how bout that, we all thought. OKC and Tokyo sittin’ on the same latitude.

  It’s been nearly a week since I woke up last Friday to a deeply alarming frenzy of tweets about a massive earthquake in Japan – a tsunami imminent. The series of colossal blows Japan has suffered since, and continues to suffer with the very possible growing reality of complete nuclear meltdown is more than I can remember any country going through in my lifetime.

I asked my dad, Michael A McDonnell, 69, what’s been running through his head since last Friday, watching the aftermath of the tsunami unfold.

He said: “It is an epic tragedy for the Japanese. I knew immediately they had dramatically underestimated the death toll because travelling in that area many years ago - I had a customer up in Sendai - you see along the coast it’s littered with small low-lying villages. There are mountains, but there are villages nestled in the valleys and beside estuaries. Those have all been wiped out. Gone.

“The Japanese people will respond in a very measured way and be very efficient in how they resolve the problems, rid the debris and get back to normal life. They are a unitary type of society, they follow instructions and rarely break with tradition. They are well known for doing things in mass, supporting the cause. 

"I was there in 1995 for the earthquake in Kobe and I saw a lot of destruction. Hell, two years later you'd never know it had happened, it was all rebuilt, but this is unimaginably worse.

“The Japanese are a noble people, innovative and private in the way they pursue everything in life. They never make rash decisions and, in my view they are very calculated in how they go after every venture – and this is one of catastrophic levels. Certainly WWII had an impact, however just from the memory of all those little fishing villages along the coast, the magnitude of this is so great - I think it will be measured as one of the greatest tragic events in Japanese history. 

“You don’t hear of looting or anything like that in Japan in this crisis. They have noble instincts, great honour and dignity. They are courteous, mannerly, respectful of others and protective of their own, of course. They are getting such a huge response from the rest of the world because of the respect held for them outside Japan.”   

Going through old photos looking for ones to scan to me for this post, my father found a letter “from my dear friend, Dr Tatsuya Yamaguchi, which he sent me after the Oklahoma City Bombing [in 1995].” 

My father said: “It’s ironic that I came across it now. I got several letters at the time, but for some reason I kept this one. Probably because it is reflective of the concern these fine people have for humanity.”

A message from my father's Japanese contact after reading this post:

"Ganbare Nippon, Ganbare Tohoku"

(Let's fight Japan, north east region of Japan let's fight)

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Images: Delegation from Mitsui, Japan (1988); Greeting the president of Mitsui at the Waldorf Astoria (1979); Argus (1976); tuna in a Tokyo fish market and letter from Tatsuya Yamaguchi sent May 16, 1995 - almost exactly one month after the Oklahoma City Bombing on April 19, 1995.

Thank you travelmath.com for latitude information

Ummmm........Gatorade

And James Franco.

Sunday is the Oscars and my laptop is acting stinking peculiar especially when it comes to images and image editing, so I’m gunna hold off even more ridiculously with  my London Fashion Week reports to bring you my love of 127 Hours and Gatorade (and James Franco).

A couple of months back my friend Matty who works for Stage brought me to a special screening of 127 Hours with a talk afterwards featuring director Danny Boyle and twitter of course. I hadn’t been paying attention to anything surrounding Boyle’s follow up to Slumdog so had no idea what the film was about. A girl sitting next to me whispered she’d heard reports of people vomiting in screenings on account of the gore in the arm scene. My whole body instantly sank with dread because although I’ve been working on it, I’m squeamish and my tolerance for blood, gore, bone and oddly wrists – even talk of blood - is pretty pointless. I might as well have never been born.

 But like I said I’ve been working on it so I decided to relax and just look away at the appropriate time. What’s odd is I can prepare poultry like nobody’s business, even sever leg cartilage and backbone, no problem. When the time came I put up my hand and looked at just a little corner of the screen, which was like his hair and a bit of rock. Worked a charm.

Not enough people are seeing this film! 127 Hours is HOT SPIT. Right from the start it’s so steezy-steeze, very Danny Boyle, high-octane and James Franco is, well, I love how Boyle describes the star’s mastery of Aron Ralston's mindset and thensome. “They’re weird, American actors. I’ve always read this, about how relaxed they are and it is very different from British acting,  British acting is quite stiff in a formal way. British actors tend to be, not uncomfortable with the camera, but they’re aware of it. American actors are like...he surfs into things,  he’s so relaxed, everything’s relaxed. The camera feels very, kind of easy with him. And I think it’s 'cause it’s their art form, the American’s, really. The French and Indians would disagree, but I don’t really think it’s ours ultimately.”

 

Actually Boyle had been asked about Franco’s surprising decision to host the Oscars and responded by explaining how unpredictable he is, which made me think Franco is probably more genuinely eccentric than we realise. But I like how Boyle links Franco’s randomness (his tendency to dress up in drag, por ejemplo) to his talent: “Because if he was predictable, if you could double guess him you wouldn’t be able to watch the film because it puts an intolerable burden on a single actor. His freshness and ability to create new moods and tones and intimacies is what actually makes it survive.”

I say Franco deserves the Oscar.

 

Now Gatorade.

I’m American and I love Gatorade, which I believe is now called G or some stupid shit. I hate ‘G’ so much over Gatorade I don’t even want to clue myself in by googling it. What if Google suddenly called itself G? 

 

 

There’s a scene in this film about Gatorade and how amazing it is, especially when you’re thirsty because you’ve been exercising in the heat. I laughed my hyena laugh when the old-fashioned Gatorade (not G) bottle appeared on the big screen – I knew exactly how Aron must have felt, kinda.

O man, Gatorade takes me back to my Oklahoma youth. I think I have earlier memories of Gatorade gum than I do of the sports drink. There was only one sports store in Edmond, my hometown, where you could buy it and it was insane – I’m getting all puckery and mouthwatery just thinking about the foil wrapping.

I missed Gatorade so much when I moved to England, there was even a newsroom joke about it in when the RTT moved to Twickenham. I finally managed to get one of the nearby newsagents to carry it but then I got a new job and left Twickenham a month later. Everyone thought it was funny because nobody else bought Gatorade except me - their loss. Nothing is better for hangover, which is the main reason I wanted it back then (post press day balm for the system).

Gatorade’s real purpose in my life was for about a dozen years before that, guzzling after an eight-mile run in the Oklahoma blisterning sun, mid-summer. I remember holding a full half litre bottle once standing to talk to someone after a long run in 100degree heat (once upon at time I was a little badass). This acquaintance’s head was turned for like 4 seconds and when they looked at me again the magic tangerine liquid was gone. He gave me a squinty look like something was wrong with me.

I could chug keg beer faster than the entire swim and soccer teams in college – something I was rightfully proud of – all due to my early Gatorade gulping training. 

Gatorade is the bomb, trust.

My husband who is British and runs and did not grow up with Gatorade now orders it in powder form from the USA. That’s the best way of doing it really because you can tweak the water-to-amazingness ratio based on how hot it is and how hard you’ve just worked your ass.

Anyway my point is: Gatorade and James Franco - go on and get you some. 

 

What it's Wort

It makes some peoples’ stomachs turn, but I cherish the heavily malted air that wafts down corridors of East Sheen and Barnes when it’s brewing time at Stag brewery in Mortlake.

Some days it’s so strong it must infuse nearby residents’ line-dried washing with a malty freshness.

Spokesperson for AB InBev, Mike Kelly, said: “As part of the brewing process wort is boiled up in the kettles and this leads to the distinctive aroma.”  

Over the summer it was announced the brewery’s anticipated closure would be postponed until at least December 2011, citing strong sales of Budweiser.I’m going to enjoy that distinctive and rare aroma while it lasts.

This post appears in the November issue of Living In Barnes & East Sheen.

Wheely Exciting

Barnes and East Sheen residents won’t have to travel to east London to witness all the Olympic sporting action come 2012. For one event it looks like we’ll just have to roll out of bed. As recently revealed by Cycling Weekly, it is understood that the 2012 Olympic Games cycling road race circuit has been re-designed and will now cross briefly over the edge of Barnes, along Upper Richmond Rd, on its way towards Richmond Park and beyond.

Olympic fever is bound to spread in our green corner of London as the games draw closer. Barnes also has two pre-games training camp sites on offer to foreign athletes ahead of the Olympics: Barnes Hockey Club (Lonsdale Rd) for hockey and Barn Elms for archery. I’m feeling a bit feverish already.

This post appears in the November issue of Living In Barnes & East Sheen.

Signs of Beauty

Finally I got round to phoning the council to tell them how much I love the black signs that popped up in parks across the borough a couple of years ago, instantly smartening up even the bleakest of grassy patches. Considering the signs’ stylish and un-council-like appearance, I suspected a designer was behind the sleek black prototype.

Richmond Council press officer, Elinor Ridgeway, worked on the signage project herself and gave me the back story. Turns out the ‘designer’ was the park-using public. Ms Ridgeway said: “In terms of priorities, parks is a huge in Richmond upon Thames so it was crucial we got it right. We went around with clip boards to all the big parks asking everyone what they wanted.” People were shown four drawings by professional designers. The black design was by far the favourite. In the end two designs were merged because most preferred the top of one and the lower part of another.

Ms Ridgeway added: “They are classic, sturdy and resilient to graffiti, but I also think that in 10 years they will still look fashionable.”

This post appears in the November issue of Living In Barnes & East Sheen.

Community Cuppa

If I said it were possible - in Barnes - to get tea and toast for £1 would you believe me? Served in a cup and saucer with a little teapot and a pitcher of milk on the side? I wouldn’t believe me either.

The Community Café, on Stillingfleet Road in north Barnes also has fair trade coffee made in a proper Swiss coffee machine, hot chocolate and an array of homemade cakes for £1. 

The Lottery-funded café, which is inside the Castelnau Community Centre, is open Monday to Friday 9-11am, and has proved very popular with everyone who knows about it , especially the school run crowd.

Mum Louise Everton, whose daughter attends Lowther Primary, said: “You won’t get a friendlier atmosphere anywhere else in Barnes. They serve proper coffee and delicious homemade snacks. It’s always really warm and cosy in there, even when it’s freezing outside.”

Nicola Thexton, who runs the café, said the project came about after asking the community what it wanted. “Everybody said the one thing they wanted was a café,” she said.

I highly recommend you visit the Community Café, located at 7 Stillingfleet Road SW13 9AQ. While you’re there check out the Pilates and boxercise classes also on offer at the centre. 

This post appears in the October edition of Living In Barnes and East Sheen.

My Brush With Charlestown

Saw Ben Affleck's latest flick, The Town, last night. It's set in Charlestown, part of Boston, and follows a group of Townies (criminal chavs essentially) who rob banks. Ended up being quite violent and this is what most audiences who don't know much about Boston's neighbourhoods will think of Charlestown now - that it's a bit dangerous and Irish mob-infested. 

That's kinda making it sound like I know all about it and I'm now going to tell you about the REAL Charlestown. I'm not.

In 1999 I was living in Connecticut, about an hour from Boston. I'd gone to Dallas to see my sister who was at business school at SMU. At a party there in the Big D my sister introduced me to her friend, an Irish American (like ourselves) who had been selected as the Rose of Tralee delegate for her region of America. If you've never heard of the Rose of Tralee competition, it's a tradition for Irish communities all over the world to find a 'rose' to send to Ireland for the final held once a year. Kinda a contest to find a well-rounded festival queen by looking at her "aspirations, ambitions, intellect, social responsibility and Irish heritage". Bit odd I know, but quite a big deal once you start looking into it.

My sister loved the idea so she and her friend convinced me to give it a go.  Being from Oklahoma I would have preferred to represent my home region, even if it meant I was up against whatever the Irish diaspora of Texas had to offer, but I was very much living and working in Connecticut at the time so I went online, made a few phone calls and discovered my closest option was a place called Charlestown.

 

Like most people, I don't remember much of times in my life when I wasn't happy or interested and this was one of those times. I wanted to be living in London but had taken a job, a good job, right out of college with a company headquartered in the backwoods of central Connecticut. I realise now I had no interest in being rose of anything. I have since learned to pay strict attention to intuition and avoid doing random, mismatched things such as this, but at the time I thought it would get me somewhere, look good on my resumé. 

So, memories of this brief and random run for the rose are so thin that I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't come across two photos of the Charlestown event in a clearout recently, I'd have have dropped the episode completely from memory. Then walking out of the cinema last night after seeing The Town I laughed pretty heartily and asked my husband if he wanted to hear about my time in Charlestown just because it was dumb and funny.

There were six girls wanting to be the Charlestown rose, I'm pretty sure they were all from Charlestown except for me. We met first at a restaurant in the town. One of the girls had gone and got her hair done at the salon just like Gwyneth Paltrow had for the Oscars, in a sleek asymmetric low bun.

I have more details banked for the previous year's winner, who acted as my host for a day showing me the local sites. Sadly I can't remember her name. She was half-Japanese, half-Irish American and had grown up in Australia. Her grandmother was from Charlestown. After taking the crown in '98 she'd spent her year as Charlestown's reigning rose attending events, waving from floats in parades and behaving impeccably. Her boyfriend was a skate boarding sous-chef in one of Boston's top restaurants. Her talent was her voice.

The weeks went by and the banquet night arrived when Charlestown's rose would be chosen from the six of us girls. I wasn't sure what the dresscode was but considering we were each going to be interviewed by a panel of judges I decided a suit was appropriate and wore a favourite, my Guess aubergine ensemble with (now I realise, looking at the photos) badly chosen light-coloured panty hose. And off I drove to Charlestown.

One thing of value I do remember was that in contrast to other parts of New England - certainly compared to where I was living in Connecticut - the people of Charlestown were so friendly and welcoming. 

I recall two basic things from that night: in my interview I was asked about the peace process in Northern Ireland and I got runner-up. The blond girl who had worn her hair like Gwyneth became the new rose - even though in this silly picture (above) it looks like I won because I'm sitting in the middle. She's got her leg up on mine.

The judges came up to me after and said the only reason I hadn't won was because I wasn't from Charlestown. Despite my genuine cluelessness about the situation in NI, apparently my answers came across well. I also remember being so happy with the mini accolade and very relieved I hadn't won. For months I'd been struggling to decide how I was going to quit my job and move to London. I was petrified I would never carry out my dream of living in the Big Smoke and when I didn't win gates opened over the Atlantic.

It was coming up on spring when all this happened - I quit and moved to London in August, 1999. 

After the rose was decided an Irish band started up and they occasionally took breaks so others could sing a Danny Boy or two in keeping with Irish tradition. I was sitting next to the previous year's winner talking about what she wanted to do next. I think it was travelling, or moving to another city, Toronto maybe. Her attention turned away, she was planning something. She kept eyeing the stage and saying in a tense yet entertained way 'just wait', but someone kept going up.

When it finally got quiet she said something to the band then stood in the middle of the stage. The lights went down, a spotlight hit her and she began singing with sounds I'd never heard before. It was in Japanese, her voice was clear, sad and feminine, like Piaf. She was so talented and it was such a startling performance that I was embarrassed by how much I loved it. I wanted a recording of it, but instead I kept asking her about the song, which was about a little bird.

She had been dying to sing her more off-beat stuff after a year of being an Irish rose. She wanted to show the town where her grandmother was from, so far from her own home, who she really was.

I drove back to my apartment that night, probably got home very late. And that's my brush with Charlestown.

In his holy aftermath

I write this too late really. Meant to post it days ago but work, in-laws and a strange brief illness (dehydration?) bumped it back.

The Pope's visit to Britain turned out warm & glowy for the most part, didn't it? 

My father dressed as Saint Patrick for the St Patrick's Day Parade, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Growing up I remember my father saying on more than one occasion that the Pope was the most powerful man in the world. Dad, are you sure? Not the President of the United States, the Queen or somebody like that? No the Pope is the most powerful man in the world.

I remember his reasoning started off with this impressive sentence: 'When the Pope raises his right hand, the world listens.' So when Pope Bendedict visited what I consider to be a pretty much secular UK at the weekend and the clouds parted and rainbows came out, I asked my dad if he still believed what he did back then.

"When I said that there was a different Pope. Pope John Paul II brought something to the papacy that others before him had not: a political clout. He tied up with President Reagan and Margaret Thatcher and made connections with the powerful people in the world at that time to bring down the communist regimes in Poland and Russia. I don't think the current Pope could have done that.

"This Pope doesn't seem to have the same magnetism or charisma that benefits relations with the political world. Compared to the previous Pope, he doesn't want to get so deeply involved. Pope Pius, who was Pope during the second World War was criticised for being too non-verbal about what was going on in Germany. John Paul II changed all that, and was specifically critical of the oppressive regimes in Russia and in his home country of Poland. He became good friends with Mikhail Gorbachev, Reagan, Thatcher and these alliances proved to be invaluable in bringing about a freedom people still have today.

"I watched a great interview of Tony Blair by Charlie Rose recently and in it Mr Blair said something about President Clinton that you could almost apply to this Pope; that a leader has to be faced with a domestic event and a major crisis that is a challenge to his leadership. Clinton never had this in his eight years. He said had Clinton been faced with such a crisis he would have excelled as one of the greatest leaders of all time. Pope John Paul II pursued a great challenge. He was Polish and had grown up oppressed. It was his goal to bring down these regimes and he was very successful. This Pope has not pursued a great challenge. He chooses to work behind the scenes." 

Thanks Dad.

EXCLUSIVE: Salvaged

Recently I was at Richmond Old Town Hall looking up the past inhabitants of my Barnes home using the Local Studies Collection’s historic directories. I came away with a fascinating list: eight decades’ worth of families who once called my house ‘home’. 

I also discovered the most exciting project going on in the borough. A massive archive of original architectural building plans, dating from 1880 to the mid 1960s, now being transferred to an online database for public access.

Building of a Borough, a Heritage Lottery-funded project run by the Local Studies Collection, is still two and a half years off completion. Once all 22,400 sets of plans have been scanned residents will be able to look up the original drawings, floor plans and other documents submitted by their home’s original builder or architect.

People wanting to go a step further will be asked to submit requests to view the actual plans, which will be kept in remote storage.

The plans belong to homes from across Richmond Borough, having once been submitted to one of six former planning authorities: Barnes, Ham, Hampton, Richmond, Teddington and Twickenham.

Notable discoveries so far have included the original designs for Richmond Ice Rink, demolished in 1992, and plans for what was intended to be All Saints Church, in Petersham. The building, now a home, was never consecrated.

A team of 50 volunteers are carefully working their way through 160 boxes of documents organised alphabetically by street. Until May this year the boxes had been locked away somewhere in the Civic Centre, gathering dust.

My source at the Local Studies collection told me these precious archives of colossal historic significance were only discovered when someone was caught tossing them in a bin. Ummm wha?

Project manager for the endeavour, Jane Baxter, said they are now one-third of the way through the archives. She and her volunteers have received high praise from the scanning and data capture firm.

An email to the volunteers from GeODC, based in Oxford, stated: “I can honestly say that it is very rare to receive data in such an immaculate condition and so lovingly cared for. Not only have the maps had all their fixings and bindings removed, but the cataloguing of the data record sheet, packet front and transference of the salient information onto the map, has all been diligently undertaken.”

To think, what is now being pristinely managed and delicately carried could have been sitting in landfill.

Now then. Time to find out who stopped the binning, who ordered it and all that. Michelle Curran would say there’s a deeper conspiracy going on. Job for the Ricky Twicky methinks.

A shorter version of this post appears in the current edition of Living In magazine for Barnes & East Sheen.

Bazar Perennial. Bizarre.

Not going to ask if it's just me; it's clearly not. Bazar is always looking for full/part-time staff. This sign is permanently up.

Do you think - in this job market - it's because nobody applies? No applicants are up to Bazar's standards? Have you applied to work at Bazar? Do you want to now? (Just to see if your retail sales magnificence will tear down this sign.) I want your thoughts.

Not Real Titty - A Milk Jug

Today is Barnes Fair. I won't be there, I'll be working. But to honour this glorious event I present this stupendous milk jug, shaped as a woman's breast. 

Bought it at Barnes Fair seven years ago. For a pound - one flippin pound. As my father would say, his hand lovingly patting the plastic dashboard of our old Toyota Corolla station wagon, 'I owe it money'.

Last weekend when Cousin Michael came, the night after we commiserated with the Argentines drinking Quilmes and eating much beef at Buen Ayre Argentine Grill in Hackney, I served him breakfast starring the titty jug. He was speechless, but managed to take this action shot:Enjoy the fair today and I hope you find you something good.

Here's a photo of me with some American friends last year at Barnes Fair. They thought it was great stuff.The autumn after this was taken, sitting in Glebe Rd Surgery waiting for Dr Corbet-Burcher to call my name, I picked up the November British Vogue with Georgia May Jagger on the cover. Her entire interview took place on Barnes Green on the day of Barnes Fair.

Lesson: sleb watch.

Georgia May photo from Vogue.co.uk

Models Wanted = Free Haircut

Making Waves salon on Church Rd, where I get my own locks lopped by Zora the amazing hairdresser, needs models on Thursday evenings to train two stylists. They're fully booked for the next two weeks, but you can phone now for the next free session. 

They'll be doing cut and blow drys (for FREE!) until September when they start colouring too. That, I have a feeling won't be free, but bound to be a bargain for a quality chop.

Models wanted every Thursday 5.30pm at Making Waves 54 Church Rd, Barnes 020 87485654

Maybe a Brew w/ a Heckuva View

Last night there was a residents' meeting to discuss a proposed change of use to what used to be New Grafton Gallery (49 Church Rd). They were giving away food.

Basically it's a GREAT location, overlooking Barnes Green, and developers wanna change it from an A1 to an A3. From being a lovely quiet food-free premises into a presumably busy café called BREW where they'll serve food and drink w/ a Turkish twist.

I missed the first hour of the consultation meeting but the place was still packed with uhhh 'concerned' neighbours when I got there. Most seemed all mad and sweaty about the prospect of the owners getting A3 status but then selling up a couple a years down the line, when whatever took its place would be dreadful and residents would have no say. 

My concern was how cute it was going to be. When I saw the notices I recognised BREW because I used to live in Northcote Road and I remember when BREW came along. It involved a lot of white - unstylishly modern (cold) white. And it was cramped. Sometimes that can work in Europe. Or in Soho, but to me it looked out of place, like they didn't do their market research, just did what they wanted. 

I didn't want Barnes having it's cute diminished by a big glowing-white unstylish café. Ain't a big fan of chains either. Ok there's only one other (I think).

Anyway turns out they hired proper designers this time and the design boards show a warmer, more natural aesthetic. One designer told me they plan to use lots of natural materials such as leather, marble and wood. The décor will have a Turkish twist too. (Pics from my phone, apologies)

Turkish lamps

Use of marble, wood, leather

This is BREW's 'signature tile' apparently

Contact the developers by email [email protected] 

Richmond Council received the application last week, number 10/1847/FUL. Letters opposing or supporting change of use have to be received by 1 August 2010. Write to Richmond Upon Thames Council Development Control, Civic Centre, Yorke Street, Twickenham, TW1 3BZ.

Car Porn | Goodwood Festival of Speed

 

Stop touching yourself. Now I better just come out and say I know jackall about cars, but whoodoggies did I enjoy the high-octane car porn at Goodwood Festival of Speed over the weekend. Made me think about what a world of its own it is, and how fun it would be to suck in the aesthetics of motoring's sexy, stylish and vibrant universe then pour it all over fashion or like the inside of your house.

I don't get off on sleek and suped-up Supercars - although I love that name - or even the F1 cars. Porsches, meh. In a platonic way I love the vintage concept cars, and in a passionate way I love Alfas. 

In the 80s when I was growing up, car makes were truer unto themselves, more stylised. BMW had a strong boxy ass. The Saab, which I always found masculinely elegant, had an extended front, signature long diagonal back and something about the rectangularness of the windows. Buggy-eyed headlamps on an old Mercedes said 'money' louder than the ones Madonna gets driven around in now. Seem to remember it was the in the 90s cars started looking the same: Beemer asses got curvy/less defined, Saabs stopped looking like Saabs and Mercedes stopped being so intimidating. Like suddenly they all had the same mother. 

Again I get cars like I get cricket, but two makes of cars get my blood pumping/turn my head: Aston Martins and Alfa Romeos. They just so pretty. More on that after this. 

Cute/EntertaininglyImpracticalinMostCases Cars:

My favourite was the 1957 Fiat 600 Multipla Marinella, Beach Bambini. The name kills me. The wicker seats and boat-style back-end slap me back to life. Ahhhh...even blankets to throw over your legs for cooler beach evenings.

Concept car montage:

 

These ones too:

Mini cool:

Mini NOT cool = the new Countryman:

Winner, Most Stylish:

Close Runner-Up:

 

The Rest:

Similar to the grounds at Wimbledon Tennis Club, everything at Goodwood's speed fest is done how it should be, touched with exquisiteness. Even up in the rally car trails. Cobbling all this together I remembered former model Jodie Kidd and how a few years back she got all into car racing and even won stuff. What's more cool than that is that she held the record for fastest celebrity lap on Top Gear for quite some time. And she's an expert polo player. 

One steazy bitch:

Photo courtesy of the Daily Mail newspaper

Bit of ALFA LOVE for ya now. It's Alfa's centenary this year. Car magazine has put out a special 100 years of Alfa Romeo 'WE LOVE ALFA' issue for Alfaholics, if ya want to get your piston-head paws on some proper Alfa porn. 

I've fallen in love with the pretty of Alfa's own Feel magazine, issue 13 (Centenary Special). 

All photos from Feel, which is produced by Northstar on behalf of Alfa Romeo. Editor: Andrew Gillingwater.

Again, all from Feel, photography by Bernd Kammerer. I love the candy-pop/Studio 54/lickety juiciness of these images. 

 

And once more, from Feel. Photography by Greg Pajo. Classic, divine - all that. And more, non?

 

My own Alfa shots from Goodwood.

This shot below bears a striking resemblance (ok a funnyish similarity) to a famous scene from a John Hughes film. I'll giveaway my copy of Feel to anybody who guesses the film. 

  
Speaking of giveaways. Here's my new Audi shoulder bag. Held by Ben, then me, posing under da hood. I strongly feel it is quite a wicked accessory.

 

Defo going back next year.

Happy 4th So, here's to frosted beer mugs

Happy Fourth of July from Big Smoke! Needless to say I love London and living in Britain, but I just wanna be at home in Oklahoma on the fourth. And at Thanksgiving. If I can't make it back this time of year I just let it pass by without much beyond a passing thought. With no Grand Lake o' the Cherokees, no fireworks, no Old Glorys flying goddamn everywhere it just ain't the same. Aint' the same.

Today though, lil' smokies, I want to honour the very American frosted beer mug. First time I kinda realised you could do this at home I was 19, over at my neighbours. He set down a freezing cold bottle of Bud or Coors, and said, 'don't drink it yet'. Moments later he gave me a tall, fresh-from-the freezer pilsner glass. 'It'll taste a lot better if you drink it out of that.' God's nectar chilled, then chilled again. 

Yah.

Last autumn when I was gettin' my lil' Boot house together I bought some Ravenhead dimpled glass tankards on eBay. Male and female versions (pints and half-pints). I always keep two of each in the freezer. I like drinking Doom Bar and Fuller's Chiswick, Pride, Discovery and Honey Dew out of them. Mmmm Fullers. Anyway, amber-coloured beers set off the frost something dreamy, as you can imagine. But for the moment I just had a lager to pour.  

 

And here's a little half-pint Ravenhead tankard next to a big'n.

 

And here's a commemorative edition Budweiser rodeo-themed tankard my mom gave my husband. I freeze this for extra-special guests. 

God bless America, especially in the mountains and in the prairies.

Signing off with Martina singing God Bless America. The sound-to-picture timing is slightly off, but she's singing live, trust me. I've seen this woman live, belting them out perfectly and passionately, song-after-song. Just like this:

Dare to draw

dare to joust is the coolest shop/art gallery in SW13. When it gets taken over by a hipper, more on-trend shop I'll report it, but for now Daniel Greaney's spot at 64 White Hart Lane is the bomb diggitest.

Last week when I spotted Ms Willoughby in her cute gym clothes hopping into her SUV (tweeted it) I was actually staring in the dare to joust window doing little whoohoos after seeing the sign for Life Drawing Classes. 

Just £10 per class, all supplies including easels, paper, inks, charcoal, even male and female models, are supplied.

Two sessions are available, both on Tuesdays: morning session 9.45-11.45am & evening session 7.30-9.30pm. 

All levels are welcome and refreshments provided.

Ring or email to book your place: 020 8876 9564 | [email protected]

dare to joust gallery is located at 64 White Hart Lane, Barnes, SW13 0PZ

What the hay?

I’m not the only one, cuz my friend Nina said she was running along the Terrace and wondered the same dern thing. Is that...a hay bale?

Yeah, in fact a hay bale hung on the scaffolding under each arch of Barnes Bridge during it’s lllllllloooonnnggg ol’ restoration. Now there’s just one bale left and two weeks til completion. Maybe they burned the other bales, or just cut the ropes and let ‘em drop and wash away.

So it’ll be finished in a fortnight, that’s according to ‘call me Cabbie,’ holding a paint tin and talking to me yesterday on the footbridge of the now pleasantly two-toned grey bridge.

But back to these curious hay bales. Having missed initial reports of their purpose in the April 2009 edition of Prospect (BCA's superb monthly newsletter) I, maybe like others who had a bad 2009 and didn’t read lovely community newsletters, presumed they were for ballast, to kinda weigh down the rickety scaffolding so it didn’t jiggle around in the bitter Barnesian winter winds. I was surprised to learn from Cabbie that it’s an olde worlde tradition to do with boat navigation.

“It goes back to before navigation lights, to warn boats. If the tide is in and there’s scaffolding it can be too shallow for some boats,” explained Cabbie, who works for the painting contractors.

According to Byelaw 29 (section 2) of the Port of London Authority’s River Byelaws 1978: “When the headroom of an arch or span is reduced, but still open to traffic, the following signals shall be suspended from the centre of that arch. By night: 1 white light, by day: a bundle of straw large enough to be easily visible.”

Oops I was calling it a hay bale.

Footbridgers haven’t been shy about offering their two cents worth regarding the bridge’s new colours, Cabbie mentioned. “We’ve had a few people complain. Most wanted it green, like Hammersmith Bridge. Others green and black. One lady said green and cream to me, and I thought that would have been nice.”

Ah well it’s done now – nearly – and I like it. I like it a lot.

The work, which started in March 2009 and cost £3m, was expected to finish in April, but was delayed by weather conditions.

That’s okay, it’ll be worth it. Cabbie said the paint has a 15-year guarantee. Meh.

Now then. A few days ago I spotted a bundle of straw sittin’ on the tow-path at Hammersmith Bridge. God knows it needs a facelift.