Halloween freaks

Happy Halloween!
I feel it appropriate now to comment on how Brighton really is full of Nut-nuts. Yesterday when I was going to my shrink, I walked past a man in Saltdean (and bear in mind this is on the edge of Brighton, in an area full of posh white haired people) who was singing 'Here Comes the Sun' at the top of his lungs as he walked towards the cliffs. As we passed each other I couldn't help but smile, as the sound of singing such a song at 8.30am cheered me up somewhat, which caused him to pause mid song... 'Here Comes the- Hi there- Sun'........
Then today on my way for an early morning jog, a man across the road shouted 'Happy Birthday' to me. I ignored him (well- it's not my birthday you see) and he then shouted 'HOW OLD ARE YOU TODAY LOVE?'.... I carried on walking... 'I SAID HOW OLD ARE YOU TODAY???'.... at this point I took advantage of my jogging attire and just ran off.
Best go and do some proper writing now....

Rice Cakes and Late Night Giggles

I know my health guilt has started to kick in again when I hungrily nip into Holland and Barratt on my way to picking up Sadie from school to grab a bag of lightly salted rice cakes; dried items that would fail to satisfy even the immature tastebuds of a toddler. I know it's even more serious when I accept the shop assistant's offer of purchasing a copy of H&B's 'Hypochondriacs Monthly' publication 'Healthy' Magazine. Do you know I was once stupid enough to pitch an article idea to them about hypochondria itself? Of course, they ignored my idea for a piece on a serious anxiety disorder, as the condition is what sells their waffle in the first place.
Onto more serious issues, my bike got nicked over half term while we were away. This has pissed me off severely. What kind of prick steals a bike that has a child's seat on the back? Ok- so Andy originally found the bike abandoned outside Brighton Station two years ago, but having phoned the police and found out the bike hadn't been reported stolen- we kept it. Perhaps the rightful owner spotted it after all this time and sawed my lock off. It was a bugger not having it as it meant that when I took Sadie to her weekly swimming session today we had to walk to the pool, which is only 1/4 mile away, but took an hour there and an hour back (with bedraggled wet locks). I have a big problem with my patience when it comes to dawdling four year olds. It is not a pretty sight, especially when I combine my crossness with the soggy drowned rat look.
Went to a stand up comedy night tonight in Hove at The Forager, with Joy and Geoff- our old mate Steve Saul was there and his refreshing quirkiness shone like a beacon in the mist of mundane joke-telling wannabes. Also- Zoe Lyons was absolutely ace- why is it that lesbian comedians are so funny? Can anyone enlighten me? The last night we went to the only women who made me laugh were gay- what's that about?
next night is last tues of Nov; visit www.myspace.com/peoplevstandupcomedy

Recycled Jessica Rabbits and Pumpkin Revelations

So this weekend we cut the jaggardy face from our £2.50 pumpkin, placed a scented candle in it and our Halloween celebrations began. We told innocent spooky jokes (the favourite being 'Why was 6 afraid of 7? Because 7 8 9....') to amuse Sadie and Minoo, her sleepover buddy, and then when they'd gone off, we devoured my cheesy sweet potato shepherd's pie with roasted pumpkin pieces and seeds. It was yum. (Below are two of my Autumn recipes, including this one, if you are interested....)
Jamie Oliver recently pointed out on his comforting latest effort 'Jamie At Home' something rather informative, yet obvious, about pumpkins: When you cook them you can remove the seeds but then keep them to cook and eat. I have been cooking pumpkin around this time of year (and out of season too- especially butternut squashes) for most of my adult life, and I have NEVER thought to do this. I actually take myself to the supermarket and buy bags of pumpkin seeds, having discarded the pips of the pumpkin flesh when making soup or whatever, stupidly condemning them to the bin. Since seeing this programme I have mentioned this idea to many other pumpkin fans and they had never thought of it either- even the ones who had studied catering. So it's not just me being thick then. For those who've never got into pumpkin seeds they are very good for your sex drive, and are also nice sprinkled on salads and roasted veg.

Just been on the phone to Rachael who caught me off guard and made me splutter my peppermint tea when she started talking about recycled dildos. And imagine- these days you can even get vegan condoms! Oh my lord. Full of interesting facts that one. Oh how the eco sexual puns kept on coming. Hope I haven't ruined your appetite...

Autumn Orange Soup
1 tbsp olive oil
1 small onion
1 crushed garlic clove
1 cm square ginger, peeled and grated
1 small butternut squash, diced and de-seeded (hang on to your seeds!)- skin can be kept on as it softens (another Oliver wonderfact)
1 large sweet potato, peeled and diced
50g red lentils, washed
1/2 litre vegetable bouillion stock
salt and pepper

Saute onions, garlic and ginger in oil. Add diced veg and mix into onions for 2 mins. Add stock and lentils, bring to boil and simmer for 10-15 mins. When everything soft. put soup in blender or mash with potato masher. Meanwhile heat a small frying pan, and when hot add pumpkin seeds and cook until darkened and crisp. When soup ready sprinkle seeds on top and add salt and pepper. Voila!
(Also can put watercress leaves on top of soup at end if you're a health nazi)

Cheesy Sweet Potato Shepherd's Pie with Roasted Pumpkin
2 onions, chopped
500g beef mince
1/2 punnet cherry tomotoes, chopped
1 tablespoon chopped parsley and fresh basil
2 tablespoons veg oil
250ml vegetable stock
1 tsp marmite (thanks to Annabel Karmel for this tip)
salt and pepper
Topping:
3 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and chopped
1 knob butter
2 tbsp milk
100g cheddar cheese
Side:
Contents of Halloween head, chopped (keep the seeds)
3 tbsp Olive oil
Salt

Fry onion and tomatoes in oil until soft. Add mince and cook until brown. Then add stock. Stir in marmite, herbs and seasoning, and cook gently for 20 mins. Meanwhile, place pumpkin pieces and seeds in a roasting tin. Coat in oil and plenty of salt and place in hot oven.
For topping, boil potatoes until soft, and then stir in butter, milk and 30g of cheese, and mash. When mince mixture ready pour in casserole dish, put mash on top and then grate remaining cheese over.Cook in oven for 10 mins. When ready serve with roasted pumpkin.

Soundtrack: Suede- Metal Mickey

And on today's menu....

We're back from our Yorkshire adventure! We missed little Sadie lots -having said that, she's wimpering for me now when she should be dozing off and I'm going "ARGH! Please sleep!"- but she seemed to have a fab time in Sleepy Sleaford with her Narnie and Dad Dad. She's come back having learnt to rap- my dad really is quite a dude.
This week, Andy and I enjoyed luxurious BnBs (aside from the Royston Vasey-esque toothy woman we encountered in our first port of call 'Bottom House Farm' near Robin Hoods Bay), walking on the -spookily reminiscent of American Werewolf in London -misty moors towards our oasis of a cosy pub, eating pie in Heartbeat's Aidensfield Arms (we were very disappointed Gina wasn't working that night- only a couple of nice young Hungarian chaps who kept saying "WHAT?" to everything I said), sweating buckets in semi-nakedness at the mixed night at the Turkish Baths in Harrogate, charity-shop shopping for warm fluffy clothing in Pickering (see above pic of Andy sporting his choice of what looks like a dead rabbit on his head), spying on all the creepy goths who were hovering around the graveyard at Whitby Abbey in preparation for their Halloween celebrations, and discussing the life-preserving qualities of whisky (my 90 year old grandma swears by it) with two 87 year old Yorkshire men in Thirsk.

At our last BnB in Sinnington, run by Jane Otter, who practically became our cuddly great aunt while we were staying there, we sat up one night, like the pair of wannabe pensioners that we seem to be these days, with our long walks and early nights with a good book, reading Jane's collection of 'Christmas Crackers' - an assortment of anecdotes compiled by John Julius Norwich- whoever he is. He quoted some hilarious menu translations and here's the one that made me wet myself laughing:
(from a Polish menu): 'Salad a firm's own make; limpid red beet soup with cheesy dumplings in the form of a finger; roasted duck let loose; beef rashers beaten up in the country people's fashion.'
Brilliant.

Yorkshire Stripper

We are in Harrogate in a pub with limited wireless connection. It's very hot in here, despite being cold outside, so Andy has his top off. Will write soon with tales of Yorkshire .... keep reading.
p.s. hot tip: Alisdair Sawday's B+Bs are always a hit. check out http://www.sawdays.co.uk/

Ladies Only

Oh- yesterday turned out to be PMT by the way. God, since rapidly approaching, and then turning, 30 I've been feeling absolutely shit around this time of the month- anyone got any tips? I've been taking Agnus Castus every day for 2 months but still feel like I'm about to start the menopause for about 5 days before... hot flushes, exhaustion, mood swings, flu-like symptoms and paranoia ('plague of the pussies'? Cats are not that scary)... Small apology to any men reading this, but when a quarter of your life is taken over by this curse, it needs a mention. Incidentally, I have had to go over this last paragraph more than once to correct grammatical mistakes- the monthlies turn me clumsy and bad at spelling.
My antidote to this wretched day was to spend it drinking white wine and eating fish pie with 89 year old Dick (yes- Dick- my spelling is correct this time), Tamzin's mother in law. What a great woman. She told me all about her children's home that she and her husband ran many years ago overlooking Lake Windermere. She looked after 12 children, three of which were her own, who were between the ages of 7 days and 15 years. Puts me to shame even mentioning a gruelling day with my one kiddiwinkle, which I can be known to do, especially once a month.
I'm also going to see another amazing lady this weekend- we're off to my nan's (or Narnie Em as we call her) 90th!! - 90?!?- and there's me complaining about the physical symptoms of my third decade of life as a woman.. I'll shut up.

Soundtrack: Franz Ferdinand- What You Meant

Urgh

Oh shitey shite I'm fighting a coldy nauseous thing just before I go away on my Yorkshire holiday. Sod's Law will mean I'll spend the whole time in bed snivelling and not feeling like a tipple or even any nookie. What a waste. I suppose with Sadie at my mum's I can at least sleep uninterrupted, unless Andy insists on doing his usual and dragging me out of bed each day at some ungodly hour to do some "couple yoga" or a coastal hike ("Well- we've got to make the most of it while we haven't got Sadie...").
Bugger. Am off for a lie down. Ooops no- got far too much to do... best be off.

Plague of the Pussies

A few weeks ago now we woke up around 3am to the sound of a cat miaowing outside the door of our first floor flat. We've lived here for over two years and no one in our block owns a cat. We opened the door and a cute little cat ran around a bit and I threw it out the front door onto the streets, in the hope it would never want to come back. I love animals but someone out there wouldn't want their beloved Ginger becoming fond of me, plus Sadie was getting ideas about it becoming a member of the household. It kept coming back though. I often find it sitting outside our door, looking up at me with it's giant watery eyes, like Puss In Boots in Shrek, and it likes to strut around our flat in it's glittery collar (it's obviously very loved) for no apparent reason. I never stroke it, I never feed it. What it wants from us is a mystery.
Then tonight, whilst watching the Phil Spector documentary, I thought I heard the tinkling of a cat collar. I put it down to paranoia and also realised it might be a sound from the telly as the Ronettes would often use jingly bells in their background music. Then I heard it again. I opened our flat door and in ran another feline, of the black and white variety. I hissed it out, as it tried to scratch me every time I went to pick it up. What the bleeding hell is going on? I have never in two and a half years had a cat come up to my flat and now there have been two in a month! Something fishy's going on. Maybe it's my penchant for stuffing my face with Omega 3 rich oily finned things these days in the hope of growing some brain cells. Maybe the faint aroma of Poisson to these cats is like a kebab shop vent to a pissed bloke. They can't resist the draw of the odour of my tuna steaks and salmon parcels. At least I'm guessing that's the reason.
And how they get into the building is completely baffling us. All very weird and very halloweeny.

Soundtrack: Squeeze-Cool for Cats

Erratum slip already

Started my home study course today. It's the first time I've studied in ten years, unless you count the 9 months I practically did a PhD in pregnancy and childbirth through the amount of books I read. I grabbed a moment to read through the introductory notes, while Sadie was in her art corner being an imaginary teacher to her teddies. I sat down and read a couple of pages, and the next thing I woke up 20 minutes later wondering where I was. Obviously I was still on the sofa with my course notes on my lap. Rivetting stuff. Oh well- I hadn't had a cat nap for a while. Must have needed it after such a wild weekend. Plus the central heating was whacked up. Sorry Rachael. And as for copy editing and it's core credentials... don't ask me.

Soundtrack: Melanie Safka-Brand New Key (Andy's favourite tune)

Books and snuggles and Amy Winehouse

Gosh I appear to have been having a life and not been writing my blog for a few days. Must update you on my exciting daily habits forthwith:
Took Sadie to Brighton Jubilee Library on Friday afternoon to relax on the sofas and read her endless books. It was really lovely to snuggle her for a long time. At home it's easy to be with her but not really be with her. And she loves books my girl. And snuggles.
Friday pm I went to the Robin Hood pub (fab pub with board games and indie music) with the gorgeous Sarka and met up with the RADIANT Rachael and her crowd of merry male journos. Was very proud of myself as I went home at 11pm having had only 2 pints. I must be seriously under the influence of Alex James.
Saturday afternoon Andy, Sadie and I took the bikes to Shoreham to find a secluded beach in the surprisingly sunny October weather. We sat against the rocks watching the waves crash. Andy did a spot of exploring, while Sadie and I focussed on the smaller delights to be had on the East Sussex coastline and hunted for pretty shells. I then realised that there were only men on the beach, who were either strolling along or standing behind pillars and posts. Dotted along the back of the beach were closed wind shelters with the odd man going to visit them. We quickly realised we were in a gay cruising area and carried on collecting shells. Well, this is Brighton after all.
Sadie spent the night having a sleepover with her little mate Natasha, so Andy and I went to Lewes for a romantic stroll down the high street, a couple of glasses of red wine in the Harveys Brewery pub, and an Italian feast in Lazzati's (I opted for the spaghetti with chilli, olive oil and garlic, while Andy had the steak in mushroom sauce- both were delicious). We were in bed by 10.30pm, having discussed the possibility and hilarity of us getting married. We both fell asleep scowling, uncertain of what the evening's conversation topic meant to the two of us.
Sunday, today, is Joy's birthday celebrations and we've just been on the beach with her and a few pals enjoying the sun, a portion of chips and a pint. Geoff had a Bloody Mary before lunch which is outrageous. Dirty bugger.

Soundtrack: Amy Winehouse- You Know I'm No Good

Save the cheerleader save the world

My, Heroes is a great tv show is it not? Watched it last night and can never quite believe how good it is...
I am off to try and save a few lives- well, maybe one or two accidents. This morning on my way to taking Sadie to school I witnessed the second accident on the "crossing" on the main road at the end of our street. A little boy (about 8 yrs old) ran across and was hit by a bicycle- obviously not the most serious accident in the world, but two years ago Sadie was hit by a double decker bus on the same spot. She was miraculously unharmed, except for a scratched hand and a small bruise on her head, and the boy today was just in shock, but these incidents have spurred me on to call the council and request for a proper zebra crossing to be put there.
Also- I don't know what's happening to this area- it used to be quite sophisto, but last night, when I popped out, a drunken, middle aged couple staggered towards me and the man asked if I'd like to come home with them for a threesome! And all I'd done is gone out for 5 minutes to drop the Mr Bean DVD at the video shop! Christ. We shall have to move, especially if they don't sort out that crossing.

Good Golly Miss Molly

My latest magazine pitch I've sent off is about breastfeeding ('oh god here she goes the hippy twat' I can hear you all muttering). I can't seem to get away from this mothering malarkey. It's now deeply imbedded in my womanly veins and I seem to have a lot to say on the matter so why not write about the subject? After all, it's a topic that most of the world is fascinated by at some point in their lives. I suppose I wish that I could multi-task better; be a supermum by day making brownies and reciting Charlie and Lola off by heart, and by night be a hotshot food writer, book reviewer or music critic, instead of just writing about childrearing. I guess the outside world will reach me gradually, as it's started to.
It's only in the last year that I feel I can see again. My world for over three years was focussed intently on one little person. There I was, head down, getting stuck in and trying my best to do everything right. I think I've done well in my job as full time mum; Sadie seems to have turned out happy and healthy so far. And now I lift my head up and there's a whole world out there, still spinning around with zillions of wonderful, exciting, colourful, interesting people to meet, places to see and things to do.
Having kids, and then coming out of the first few years of it still smiling, is like being given a second chance at life. Whereas in the early days every ounce of free time was like gold dust, now those spare moments are in adundance (Miss Spector's over at her best friends' for dinner right now) and I intend to enjoy myself.
Now I find I can actually finish reading a book in a week, I have time to listen to music or commentary on the radio, I actually finish reading the Sunday paper, I can take my time cooking a magnificent meal for two, I can write and I can take a deep breath and enjoy my time instead of hurriedly cramming in things to do when free and actually getting nothing productive done at all.
Andy and I are making the most of this liberating period to have a little holiday in the October half term. Sadie is off to my mums for 4 days and we're going to Yorkshire to explore the moors, visit the Turkish baths, and, more importantly, have a few rather overdue lie-ins. We can't wait.
Incidentally, despite all this lust for me-time, I spent an hour today cuddling, feeding and burping (yes she did puke all over me) five month old cutie-pie, ginger top Molly, my friend Tamzin's second sproglet, and, as much as my life is back, I still felt a huge pang in my womb for another little life-zapper. Isn't nature a powerful thing?


Soundtrack: Definition of Sound-Wear your love like heaven

My arse is rested

Today was a right shitty, rainy one, but enjoyable nevertheless. Spent the morning chatting away to my pschotherapist (I really don't need to see her any more but it gives me a great excuse to spend an hour sitting on my arse). Did my usual burble and blub and then, after picking Sadie up from school, went down on the pebbly beach to rendez-vous with one Rebs Tully- an old bookseller colleague from way back (haven't seen her since I announced in a pub to a few friends I was pregnant- well, I had to explain- they were stunned as I ordered an orange juice).
We dined on nettle soup in the delicious Due South (http://www.duesouth.co.uk/), having managed to get a window seat with a view of the crashing waves- I thought the girl from Hackney might appreciate a bit of scenery. Was ace to see her, and it seems, what with our shared interests in running and writing and boys, we now have a lot in common. I hope to catch up with her again very soon over a self-help book (written by her) and a bottle of wine.
Sadie and I then slobbed out to a Mr Bean DVD and ate popcorn. We closed the curtains and turned out the lights to pretend the lounge was a cinema. I love having a kid- it gives you the perfect excuse to behave like one. Plus I got to spend another hour of the day sitting on my arse. Off to work on The Book.

Soundtrack: Blur-Coffee and tv

Sunday Sunday

I love Sundays. They turn me all twee and vaguely middle aged, but once a week I just about get away with it. I love the slow mornings, listening to classic fm whilst planning our day's trip to the countryside. Today, after my sunny run along the seafront, we drove to Wakehurst Place (as we're- eek - National Trust members so twas free)- the Kew of West Sussex- for a picnic and a walk around the beautiful muliticoloured tree gardens. We supped tea and nibbled flapjacks outside the manor house, whilst little Sadie pushed her dolly around in her buggy collecting fallen leaves and woodlice. Home now and cooking roast beef to Radio 4, whilst supping a rather cork flavoured glass of wine. Don't come too quick Monday Monday.
Exciting week as both Sadie and I have been asked to be bridesmaids for two separate lovely friends of mine- hers for Joy and Geoff next June, and mine for Caroline and Ewan in 2009. Ah- always the bridesmaid and all that. But congrats to these ladies and gents!! And I have to say both couples are both two of the most suited couples I've ever met so about time too you lot!!
Joke of the week: I've just started going to the gym and I used a machine for an hour and then felt really sick. It was a great machine though- it did Kit Kats, Snickers, crisps........

Not drowning but running

Over the last few months I've found something that I can get as much of a buzz out of as the old liquor. The buzz is in fact better as it makes me feel alive and the feeling stays that way, whereas with my old buddy the bottle, it makes me feel euphoric and then very gloomy, sometimes even half dead, especially if I have too much.
I have started running along the seafront- I try to go every other day, and now that my mornings are free and the sun is shining it's the perfect time to get a fix of those endolphins (sic), some vitamin D and lower my risk of heart disease at the same time. The only downside is I have to show off my camel's hoof in my tight running leggings and end up looking like Phil Mitchell I'm so beetroot red.
Have just got back from a 20 minute run in the autumnal sunshine and sea breeze. The men who are working in my street digging up the sewers, who for some reason always say "Hello babe" when I go past (I've always attracted the classy type), always ignore me when I'm on my way back from a jog, hair scraped back and my face all shiny. It's yet another bonus to this exercise malarkey- scare off the leary roadworkers.
The wonderous Lucy Bullen and I are planning on doing a half marathon next year- watch this space...

Thank you for leaving us gizzly

We've just discovered that Sadie's grandad, the late Prof Wally Spector, shared a mistress with Fidel Castro! How mad is that? Wally died 20 years+ ago .. Shame Sadie won't ever meet her pathologist grandad - he sounded like quite a character and was apparantely a very gentle and funny man. His legacy to us is the word 'gizzly' which we use at home to describe the jelly-like substance found on slightly under-cooked eggs...

Booze Glorious Booze

I love the stuff but I'd like not to love it so much. It must be in my genes. I recently finished Alex James' autobiography and he was a right pisshead in his twenties, but when he hit his thirties he became a tee-totaller. How the flip did he manage it? I know he was a terrible drunk, which you see- I'm not, I'm a rather charming one. Monsieur James reckons once he did give up the bottle he got so much more done which is the main reason I want to quit the dopamine fixes. I turned 30 two months ago and have drunk more since then than I had planned. Of course the plan was to quit completely, like I suddenly did after 10 years of inhaling dirty Benson and Hedges, but I can't seem to do it. They do say mothers are the worst. Alcohol is the complete antidote to a day with children. Sadie goes to bed- I crack open the Cabernet Sauvignon. Sadie goes to bed - I crack open the Shiraz. Sadie goes to bed - I crack open the Merlot. And so it goes. Trouble is my man isn't even much of a drinker so I end up necking about 7/8ths of the bottle. Sad really. I suppose I'm what health experts refer to as a ' female binge drinker'. If I was going out every night I probably wouldn't notice it, but as we're now parents and we're staying in it seems a lot more tragic somehow. Especially if you combine the heavy wine drinking with late night tv. It leaves one feeling rather empty and depressed.
I'm now sitting here at 9.30am necking cup after cup of nettle tea to ease the catholic guilt.

10.40am: I really shouldn't laugh but I can't believe a pot of burning chillies caused a terror alert. And the Thai man who runs the restaurant is quoted as saying "I'm confused". Poor bloke.

Soundtrack: Maximo Park - Our Velocity

My god she's growing up

I can't believe it. I'm sitting here tapping away, doing what I like, twiddling about and taking my time, and my little Sadie is playing on her own in her room. After four and a half years it's happened- I am getting my life back bit by bit as she's needing me less and less. Scary but wonderful at the same time.
So what am I going to do with all this regained freedom? It's like being born again I tell you! Well, apart from starting a blog, I have just signed up to a copy editing course to help eventually contribute more financially to my little nest of three. I'm also planning on getting some more articles published (probably in parenting mags as that seems to be my most broad area of knowledge now- and to think there was a time I wrote for More! magazine about blow jobs....). I'm also scarily broody as hell, but can't 100% decide whether to have another sprog. It would be lovely and beautiful and everything, but they are SUCH f@*+ing hard work (no that's not an email but the computer thinks it is). We shall see. I also need to work on The Book.
ONe of my latest article ideas is connected to this decision making and is related to Post Natal Depression (i'm not going to tell you the whole idea- someone might steal it!), which I am scared of happening to me a second time. I now know that I had it but my GP failed to notice, despite me liturally falling apart both physically and mentally in front infront of her very ignorant eyes. The plan is to go and see a midwife to have a chat.
Best go and finish making hungarian goulash a la Annabel Karmel. She's the best.

Soundtrack: Kylie- Love at First Sight

Be My God

My hero Stephen Fry is everywhere at the moment and it's heavenly, to steal a word that Nigella uses to descibe chocolate fondue . He's turning 50 the old gem and it seems he really is a national treasure these days. Our evenings have been taken up with various 'best of Stephen' moments.
I'm half way through his book'The Ode Less Travelled' (and have been since Christmas) but I feel compelled to complete his 'How to' guide to poetry forthwith as it really is a wonderful guide to writing ditties. This man has been a comedian, a writer, and actor, a director, a presenter- he is a genius of everything, except perhaps competing as an Olympic athlete. When I was 15 I had a homage to him on the back of issue 3 of Beaumont Fee, my self-obsessed fanzine. It had a picture of him photocopied from The Liar with the words 'Be My God' written underneath (words taken from a very early -circa Justine and Brett era- and very amateur Suede single)....and to this day, 15 years on, he still is an iconic figure in my life. There aren't many chaps like Mr Fry about, but then again if there were he wouldn't be such an enigma. What I love is that he's so unpatronising in his intelligence. I know a lot of people who are far cleverer than me (not a difficult trait to find) but use it to humiliate and toy with "lesser beings" (not my term, it's just something I feel patronising people must see others as), but Stephen Fry is generous with his knowledge and language and makes it accessible. There was a fantastic quote on tv the other night, I think it was from Phil Jupitus, that what Stephen Fry does is make you want to learn more, to read more and to be more like him.
I'll sign off now to do some reading of 'The Ode.....'
x
Soundtrack: McAlmont and Butler - Yes
Other heroes include: Peter Cook, Kenneth Williams, Derek Jarman, David Bowie, Rick Stein, Eddie Izzard, Morrissey, John Hegley, Martin Parr, Mike Leigh, Simon Pegg
Heroines: Dusty Springfield, Nancy Sinatra, Jane Grigson, Francoise Hardy, Linda Smith, Polly Harvey, Jane Tomlinson, Audrey Hepburn,