There's a reason UGG boots are called thus: they are ugly. If you want to look like you have totally flat, round feet, they're the way to go.

In case you ever need a list of all the recent UK web startups that got sold. It's all about the exit route.

I feel I owe you an apology, of sorts.

Usually words just fall out my head onto my keyboard, and I realise I've been a little vague, this week. I've been thinking about you, though.

Stuff happens. I've been at Jewish Book Week, and definitely have things to say. I went to a funeral, couldn't go to a shalom zachor (ironically, a beginning and ending in the same week), busy with deadlines-deadlines, I have a very busy weekend (including assorted Wandering Jews coming round tomorrow), and it's Purim on Sunday, and I haven't even thought about shalach manos, partly, because my head's fit to burst, and partly because I don't believe in over-consumption.

Also, a very old friend of mine is sick. Despite everything people say about blogs and diaries and letting it all hang out, that's not really my style. Especially because he's not really an online kinda guy, so it doesn't feel right. But let's just say, I feel a little sad.

So this is in perpetual beta, really - but then, so's life, right? - but my erstwhile tech department has been beavering away at the new-look (and that's not a shop) sashinka.com site.

So it's goodbye to all the old green with the hard-to-read white text. And hello to a new about page (I've held off or five years, but hey), lots of recipes (humous, thai green curry, with more to follow), and a new-and-improved my-writing page, including a couple of old favourties (watch me work that back catalogue), including The Meeting and Ze Chermans.

Immersive worlds can be dangerous - this bloke died from staying online too long. Lesson to us all, I don't doubt.

Hey, it's Power Down tonight in Islington. A carbon-neutral club night, how cool is that.

Trust, 2.0

I don't really know why this story came into my mind today.

Maybe because I was researching (work) stuff online and it reminded me how easy it is to find out pretty much anything, these days. We are, after all, the google generation.

So, long long ago, before the internet and the tyranny of the inbox, I worked for an events company and it was fun, but hard work and I had close relationships with my colleagues. I had a lot of fun. But I was younger: I could drink more and faster back then.

A couple of years later, I was going for a job that related to a sector that Frederick, one of my colleagues, had done a lot of work in. Nowadays, if you want to find something out, you just google, but back in 1994, or whenever it was, research and filing were much-prized skills. So I called him - we were both in different jobs, and said, "hey, Fred, remember that project you worked on? Could you send me the brochure?"

And a week or so later, in the post, it arrived. And he'd scrawled his signature across every single page of it, in six inch high letters.

Because, he clearly didn't trust me.

Now, I just wanted to remind myself about the subject, because I hadn't done that much work in that sector, and wanted to have some keywords to mention in the interview. Until his pre-scrawled brochure arrived, the thought of passing his work off as mine had not even crossed my mind.

See, he's a bloke who I was at university with. Except I was mostly in the union and he was mostly in the bar, so Fred and I didn't hang out that much.

Coming to London, he moved in with his girlfriend in Golders Green (he wasn't Jewish, he just had a thing about Vovlos) and they made magical music together. Then he had an affair with someone at work, dumped girlfriend A for new woman B, and moved into the house she'd got in her divorce. Through guilt, he carried on paying the rent on girlfriend A's flat in Golders Green. And the car payments.

I went to Fred and woman B's wedding in Surrey: it was lovely and English. I got lost because (at that stage) South London and its environs were a long way to me. A month or so later, they came to dinner, and things felt strained. A month after that he left her for... someone he'd met at work.

Sense a pattern emerging?

Anyway, we lost touch, partly because I couldn't totally handle his behaviour, and I hadn't seem him for years. A few months ago, I was in Madrid airport, and there'd been a huge tradeshow, and it was heaving. And there he was: flanked by a bevvy of adminstrators, clearly the show director, or something, by now. His boyish youthfulness had sallowed to a thirty-something sleaziness. I so didn't want to fall into conversation with him, that I turned away and found myself deeply interested in the bookshop.

Trust.

It's a thing.

Check out shulshopper - there are no London shuls (yet) but it was clearly a social-software-meets-chicken-soup project waiting to happen.

Personally, I think shuls should have credit ratings. And kiddush ratings.

I have one phrase to say to Starbucks and its corporate marketing geeks: geography is not a flavour. Or even - given that it's bound to be a global campaign - a flavor.

Geography is, well, geography. Flavours are wonderful tastes that enhance your food, create texture, culinary experiences. I'm actually so incensed by this abuse of the English language that I am - for once, temporarily - lost for words.

Gah.

I realise I may be the only person who cares about such matters (yeah, right), but look, you can get the nutritional information on starbucks drinks and cakes.

It's not great reading. Basically, you should have tea/herbal tea, or if you really need coffee, a regular brewed coffee or an Americano. On the cake front, the news isn't good. The lowest calorie thing you can have is a mini treacle tart, but I've got to tell you, I've never seen them. Failing the minis, it's the marshmellow twizzle (145 calories, 4.9g fat), or from the skinny range, carrot cake slice (192 calories, 2.5g fat). I'd give the skinny muffins a miss - they don't taste that great, they're 350ish calories, although low on fat.

You asked. Or you didn't.

13022007074

13022007074
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk.

Bloke was murdered, broad daylight, in Cricklewood. I'm not sure I have quite the same risk factors, and I don't live that near, but still.

Obvioulsy I recommend making your own humous (I have chickpeas soaking as we speak/I type), but if you buy M&S humous, apparently they've recalled some for salmonella-related reasons.

Looks like every blogger in the world has a book deal.

So the $100 laptop looks like an incredible invention, great for the devleoping world blah blah blah, but you know that everyone just wants one for themselves. Built in wireless, no basestation? I'm there.

Interesting Guardian piece about how we eat too much sugar - kids are eating as much as nineteenth century factory workers working fourteen hours a day.

It's the low fat trade off: we've all (some) started eating low-fat, but the trade off for processed food is that they have more sugar. If that fat goes, it has to be replaced by something.

What I didn't know is that fruti is being bred to be blander and sweeter, although I guess I should have guessed, especially since the arrival of the Pink Lady apple, which is even sweeter than Golden Delicious, and that's pretty sweet.

Did you hear this news story about the pardoning and susbsequent adding to the memorial of two World War One soldiers? I was really moved to tears, watching Harry Farr's daughter , who is 94, saying that justice has finally been done.

It seems remarkably unfair that it's taken nearly ninety years to fix this; apparently lots of soldiers were shot for what we would now call PTSD. Facile, I know, but war and all its associated actions just don't do it for me.

I particularly like the last line of the local paper piece: "the soldiers' names will be carved on to the war memorial this summer." Because right now, in the photos, anyway, it just looks like they've sellotaped a piece of paper to the memorial.

So the power outage seems to have fried my ethernet card, as well as one of my USB slots. Such is life. I have other kit - I'm working on my laptop, but it's frustrating, because I can't be as seamless as I usually am, emailing and IMing and checking stuff online. Oh well.

Tuesday it should all be fixed. Gah. I do seem to rely on technology.

Financial Advice

Notwithstanding the fact that I'm - obviously - not regulated by the FSA because I'm not an IFA, I give a lot of people informal financial advice. Dunno why. Because I have become more efficient over the years with my money.

Anyway, it's coming up to new Cash ISA (and stocks and shares ISA) season, and I came across the Scarborough Building Society's MySavings ISA which I heartily recommend to you all. It pays a massive 6.3%, which beats the National Savings 5.8% and then some. You can't transfer into it, so it's just for new savers (start it from April, if you already have one for this year), and like all cash ISAs, it has a maximum of £3k. It's a regular saving plan, but that's cool, just set it up from your bank. It pays less if you make more than one withdrawl or don't save regularly, but that's fine, because you don't really want to withdraw money from your ISA, as you can't get the tax break to put it back.

For some reason, this doesn't show on the best buy tables at MoneySupermarket or on the MoneySavingExpert's article.

A couple of weeks ago, I ran into an old friend/acquaintance, and she said to me, "how are you? I haven't read your blog for ages." And I did the usual no-requirement etc. And she replied, "let me guess; you've had computer problems, you've been to the cinema..." I tuned out, actually. Does that mean I'm so... predictable? Dull? Boring?

I say this because I have diagnosed my tech problem (with both E3 and Israel help); my ethernet card is fried, for some reason. I have talked to Evesham, and the bloke on tech support, lulled into a false sense of security by my apparently knowledgable facade) tried to persuade me that I could take out the 56k model in my PCI slot and replace it with an ethernet doodar. I took the machine apart, but you need really small hands and tiny screwdrivers. I am going to pay Evesham fifty earth pounds to come with the right part and do it for me.

Only problem is, all their systems are down, so they can't book me in. And what's the guessing that they can't come till like Tuesday?

In other news, as I mentioned, I went to the cinema last night. So it's true: I'm a failed cinema buff with tech hassles. What's new?

I was at the ICA tonight, catching up with an old friend (S) over a bite to eat and a terribly depressing movie about Iraq.

On the way home, the tube driver announced that train wasn't stopping at West Hampstead or Willesden, as there was a power problem. When I got out at Kilburn, it was pich black; not street lights, no houselights, no (blaring) music. Deathly hush. Deathly dark. It was kinda like I imagine the war was: people talking to each other, cameraderie.

Strangely, I met my flatmate on the corner of Mill Lane and we walked home, and lit candles and didn't look at the internet because nothing worked. It was kinda fun. Lying in bed, in the candlelight it was so stealthily-quiet. Super-hush. I loved it.

In all, the lights were off for maybe an hour. It did cross my mind that it was really good for the planet. If I had an electrisave meter... it wouldn't have worked, being powered by electricity.

What's really anoying now is, a slight technical hitch. My desktop PC is connected to the cable modem via an ethernet cable. There is another ethernet cable to my wifi. So the wifi works, which proves that the cable modem works (I'm writing this on my laptop), but for some reason, the desktop can't get internet access. It thinks that an ethernet cable is unplugged, but then it always thinks that if there's a problem. It's its generic thinking.

I called the Virgin (previously Telewest) 0845 helpline, but they told me to (a) reboot (which I had already) and (b) they don't support bluetooth (it also thinks bluetooth is unplugged, even though I don't have that either).

See, this is what's annoying about geekery. Everything was fine till the powercut, no cables have been moved, but now it doesn't work, and I don't know enough to know how to get it to work.

Oh well. Perhaps I'll just go to sleep, and maybe it'll work in the morning (fat chance, I hear you thinking).

All/any advice gratefully received.

wefeelfine
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk.

Do you know about WeFeelFine?

It's fabulous... it collates all the feelings (ie sentences beginning "I feel..." ) from blogs, and makes them intro pretty images, montages... it's like the collective consciousness, but done over all Damian Hirst. I like.

I just discovered Jane Lui today.

Now here's a thing.

My little story about the frummer on the train got linked by DovBear (presumably of Mezeritch, but I don't actually know him, even if I do have a degree specialising in the history of Hasidism, so I know Dov Baer was a disciple of the Baal Shem Tov. But hey, it's the internet age, you probably know this too).

So this is what's been exercising my mind. Check out the comments. I've obviously got semi-embroiled in a debate about what "frum" people do and if they do or don't sit next to each other in a mixed-gender way in a variety of planes/trains/automobiles/simchas. I don't have strong views about that - the web's about linking and referencing (or, as I should now call it referenciness), but I got to thinking about this comment from LkwdGuy:

Very nice.

I would also note the very different attitude displayed by that (non frum) blogger vs. (frum) Mrs. Shear.

Frum Mrs. Shear:
On several occasions, both men and women have stopped by my seat and asked me to move to the back of the bus. I have politely - and firmly - refused this "invitation". This is not a Mehadrin bus and there are no signs indicating that it is.

Non frum blogger:
I didn't sit with him because he was sitting in a two seat, and I wanted to sit with a table, and also, sometimes those guys don't like sitting next to women for modestly reasons, and I wouldn't want to embarrass them.

See, I'm the non frum blogger.

And I'm wondering how he's surmised that. I don't think I have a problem with it, per se, and I know that by charedei/Golders Green/Boro Park standards I'm not frum-frum, but I'm still wondering. Because, for all he knows, I could be wearing a snius (modest, only translated because google won't really help you here) housecoat and a snood. While having an indepth knowledge of the London club scene and eighties rap music. Unusual, I grant you.

Partly, because I had this conversation with a friend recently where I described myself as 110% Jewish: pretty much everything I do in my life is governed by Jewish values, customs or laws. I like it like that. It's a bit much for people who don't think that way, I grant you, and I don't like to label myself, having recently come over all post-denominational (I said that to some cousins at the barmitzvah at the weekend, and they just looked at me like wtf?).

But how does one decide these things? I keep strictly kosher (at home), apart from mostly eating fresh fruit and vegetables, which makes it pretty easy, I go by the London Beth Din kashrus list, and only cook with kosher wine. I have a slight question over gevinas akum given that (a) I am a vegetarian, and (b) the custom in the UK is to use non animal rennet anyway. I celebrate and observe all the festivals, even the silly ones, I am sabbath-observant to a degree. OK, when you're frum-frum, there are no degrees. I give tzedaka. I have (relatively) good middos, although I (a) fear that this is not something one should say about oneself, like being pretty, and (b) suspect that it counts against any humility I might have. Hence moderately. Hey, doesn't Moderately Good Middos sound like an eighties band, but with sheitls? I am committed to Jewish life and community in a way that to the chareidim world probably just look like social action, and that's a bit hippy/liberal/left-of-centre Jewish.

Aside: I had a very interesting conversation with a reform Rov over the summer, who said wouldn't it be great if Reform Judaism was known for the ben-adam-le-chavero commandments (the second six about relationships between man and man), because it seems like orthodoxy's very much about the man and G!d stuff. But this is a very big conversation I won't start now.

So, bottom line. Probably, by a strict ruling, I'm not frum. And let's face it: orthodoxy is about strictures and strictiness (mishpocha with referenciness). I just don't want other people to say it. I think it's OK if I say it, and ... feels weird if someone else does.

I think that, deep down, I think everyone (Jewish) should follow all the rules properly, even if it's not what I do now. Like when people ask, are you frum? And you reply, "not yet."

Life's a journey. It's better when you have a bus-stop outside your house.

Well, my email inbox is heavy with news and views on Ben Goldacre. Like, listen to him here, on the guardian podcast, talking about Gillian. Let's all agree here: he's not just smart and witty, he's got a really nice voice, too. Voices do it for me, I have to say.

Also, he has invented the word "referenciness", which I heartily approve of.

Here's what most (many) people are asking me: is he Jewish? Short answer - I don't know. Running him through the Jewometer at Sashinka Towers, I'd say the following:
- Ben, sounds like a Jewish boy, right? 7 points
- Goldacre - sounds like it used to be Goldstein/Goldfine etc. 9 points
- career choice - doctor only trumped by Hedge Fund Manager for those in their thirties. 9 points
- Lives in Kentish Town - north London, some points, but not exactly West Hampstead or Belsize Park. 5 points
- Type A personality/Oxbridge education/high achiever type: 7 points, although you'd get those points from any other once-were-immigrants minority, so lose a point. Final points: 6.
- Social action: Cares about rightness and doing the right thing, often a Jewish thing, especially for those on the Liberal/Reform/Masorti perspective. Also, lots of other people who aren't Jewish, so points: 5
- Hair: check it out, something of a Jewfro. Points: 8

So that's 42 points out a possible 60, which makes him 70% Jewish. It also probably makes him 70% Asian, so I'd add the caveat that this is clearly on a guessometer rather than real-science basis.

If you want a really good laugh, you should definitely listen to Hadley Freeman's commentary on London fashion week. It's not exactly a podcast, it's kinda a voiceover with pictures (stills). Waddya call that? Vidcast? I know: television.

Anyway, whatever manner of new/old media animal this is, it's hysterical. Not least because I'd always imagined (when I took a day off work to think about these things) that Hadley would sound terribly Hampstead-daahling, and she just sounds normal.

It's kinda the inside-track: the sort of insider-insight that people who work on fashion magazines get all the time, and lesser mortals like you and me have to wait for monthly magazines to read. Except, it doesn't matter how well connected/directional you or your wardrobe are, I'm just not recommending the snood/horns look. It's silly. Repeat after me: just s-i-l-l-y.

I think I may be slightly in love with Ben Goldacre after reading today's scathing hatchet job on Gillan McKeith. When I say hatchet-job, of course, I mean reasoned, scientifically valid, referenced piece.

I really do.

Bloke's a genius. He's totally taken her to task for all her "here come's the science" jiggery fakery, and because he's a Proper Doctor, it all makes sense. And he can write. And he lives in North London. Kentish town, to be precise.

Interesting sidenote: I read the piece on the old-fashioned way - read the dead tree version the train, and it's different. I hardly ever buy a paper nowadays because I'm online 25/8, so what's the point. But there's something exciting about seeing the masthead, knowing there's a story that'll grab you; opening the paper and seeing the (brilliant) G2 cover - which you don't get online. And... the whole... positioning. It's different. When you read online you hardly ever know what the "big" story - the longtail of online journalism means all stories are pretty equal. So there's less of an editorial edge. So you read more of what interests you, sure, but a lot less of what you "should read."

Anyway, just saying. And look: he's a self-confessed geek. The best sort.

So I'm in Manchester (Cheadle, obviously), spent the weekend at my cousin's (well, technically, first cousin once removed, call me a genealogist if you will) barmitzvah. And yes, I shouldn't start sentences with so, but hey, I'm a blogger. No editor, that's the thing. Well, part of the thing.

I'll say more later, when I have a chance, because I've had a wonderful, warm, family-oriented, emotionally charged weekend.

But while I remember, I just want to write this.

I think I've said before, that I have a thing about frummers and trains. Like, when I see frummers (people in black hats/peyot/dressed like eighteenth century Polish noblemen) I want to sit with them and talk Yiddish. Mostly, they don't think I look Jewish (frum) because (a) I don't dress badly/modestly enough and (b) I have fair(ish) hair. But anyway. Like, I like to surprise them... just get chatting, and then it turns out I speak idiomatic Northern Yiddish, or enough to scare them that I know where they're coming from. Broughton Park, mostly.

So there was this bloke in my carriage, older, frum, black hat, beard, the full kit and caboodle. I didn't sit with him because he was sitting in a two seat, and I wanted to sit with a table, and also, sometimes those guys don't like sitting next to women for modestly reasons, and I wouldn't want to embarrass them.

A terribly well preserved woman-of-a-certain age sat next to him; I'm guessing they were both late fifties/early sixties. And when she sat down, I thought, huh, you're not in for much conversation. But when she said hello, he said hello back, and I earwigged their conversation all the way to London: he was going to his daughter in Hendon for shabbes, and by the time the two hours and ten minutes was up, he'd taught her some Yiddish, and they'd swapped grandchildren photos and stories, and he'd quite openly explained lots of Jewish stuff to her in a slightly kiruv way, but hey.

It was cool. It made me feel good that there are open-minded frummers. And everytime he called his daughter Rivkey (which was a lot of times because as we all know, you can never be too careful) he was sure to tell her that (a) there had been no disasters and (b) he had lovely company.

Just interesting, is what I'm saying.

In other news, I sat with someone tonight, at the barmitzvah, who reads my blog, but he didn't want to say too much in case I wrote about him. So I'm just saying, hi, D. I'm not saying anything, just hi.

As you can see from my recent photo set, I hung out a little with Deborah Lipstadt on her UK visit last week; I am, after all, her blogmother.

Last Sunday, a few of us went out for dinner, to Novellini in Golders Green (this is what happens when you try to accomodate kosher/vegetarian eating requirements; you have to eat out in a kosher milchig restaurant). The patisserie is particularly fine, so I'm not complaining, even if I technically don't really eat carbs, and even if I do, there's really no point in patisserie, from a nutritional perpsective.

So the waitress comes over, and tells us that "the specials are written here", she points to the menu. She runs through them, and there was something that Deborah was interested in, and she light-heartedly teased the waitress (who, in my memory, has a Polish accent) - "but where's the carp? You said it was was written here?"

The waitress was sharp as anything. "Oh," she said to Deborah, "You shouldn't believe everything you see written down."

But not as quick as Deborah, who responded, "don't I know it."

Things that currently annoy me

I have had the noro (noro, noro, see you tomorrow my son) virus for three days and feel crap. Although improved: Tuesday, I couldn't stand up.

I still can't search my blogger archive and frankly it's like not having a brain. I like to check things. I can't. I mean, they're owned by google: fancy not being able to search. It's a core competency, right? Unimpressed by general upgradiness. It's more of a downgrade.

I have a client who hasn't paid me for something since October, and it's upsetting me. I like to do the work, deliver, get paid. I have taken advice, even though I hate doing that kind of thing, but sometimes needs must.

I have just finished the first round of a new thing, and it's fun and interesting and I'm kinda pleased with what I did (noro-permitting). Whoops, this is supposed to be a list of things that annoy me. Wrong list.

I am going to Manchester tomorrow, and just tried to book a ticket online and it didn't work and told me there was something wrong with my delivery method, which iI couldn't work out. I called the stupid 0870 number but they said "call back at 8am". Sheesh. Where's an Indian 24-hour call centre when you need one?

I wanted to buy this handbag in Coast and I forgot. It's an evening handbag, and I'm going to my cousin's barmitzvah. But then, I can differentiate between what I need and what I want. I can live without another handbag. I think.

Humous update

So in answer to Janice's question: the chickpeas are soaked and cooked by hand. I am converted.

The humous recipe is online, although it doesn't take account of (relatively) recent conversion to hand-soaking.

My za'atar is personally shipped by J from Israel and it's fabulous. You can buy za'atar here in your local (if you live in Kilburn) pan-Arab/Lebanese style shop, or if you live near a Tesco that "does ethnic" there's some brand that does it in plastic pyramid shaped things, which is not bad.

For those who are interested in these things, I have just bounced back after 24 hours with the (self-diagnosed) norovirus.

For some reason, I can't get the lyrics of Dire Straits Skateway out of my mind: I keep hearing, "noro, noro, waxy, I'll see you tomorrow my son." Seems like it can do things to your head.

So I have over 4,500 posts and I get error bX-6gp0zg when I try and search. The so-called help forum tells me other people have had this, but there are no answers.

Let's just say I'm regretting upgrading, albeit that I had no choice.

homemade humous

homemade humous
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk.

I'm always talking about my humous so I thought I'd show you how it looks - I made a quick batch for lunch, with carrots to dip in it.

It's the regular recipe, garnished with chick peas, a little bit of olive oil, and sprinkled with za'atar.

I had a whole lesson yesterday on how to use my camera, so now I can do these close-up-y I'm a foodie shots. Yay.

Did anyone "watch" OnlineCaroline (now deceased, apparently) a couple of years ago? It sounds like a cross between Bridget Jones, 24, and some camgirl, but I'm curious to know what it's really like.

An alleged letter bomb at Capita headquarters - conveniently almost adjacent to Scotland Yard.

Do you think it's someone annoyed about the congestion charge?

Deborah Lipstadt
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk.

Deborah Lipstadt being interviewed by Al Jazeera this morning.

Ottolenghi, Islington

Ottolenghi, Islington
Originally uploaded by sashinka-uk.

So Wednesday last, F was in town, and we dined at Ottolenghi in Islington, which is totally my kind of place. It's all tapas-y with a mediterranean hint, and I had the most orgasmic raspberry meringue for desert.

Also, you sort of feel like you're at a private dinner party; it's a long table with exactly the chairs my parents had in the 1970s (which both F and I observed).

I just spoke to someone (a web person, no less) who in response to my question "what do you think of user generated content?", said, "what do you mean?" And after a few versions of asking the question, it because clear that she had no idea at all about the concept.

Coupla weeks back, a strategy person at a huge media company said to me, "what are these online games of which people speak?"

Hey. Manchester has been chosen as the site for the first super-casino. Not that I totally think they're a good idea. But Manchester.

So, there I was, walking along Shepherd's Bush Green, and saw Donny Tourette and Peaches Geldof walking hand in hand in the street. And I couldn't help thinking to myself, "that's the secret granddaughter of Hughie Green. She's a thoroughbred entertainment machine." It's like she was bred to be on a celebrity reality show.

Don't you remember? The last thing Paula found out before she shuffled off this mortal coil, was that Hughie was her dad. Talk about opportunity knocks*.

*Wow. I just read the wikipedia entry. I mean, Lena Zavaroni. Talk about a blast from the past. Lot of anorexia stories, recently. Ana Carolina Reston, that was a tragedy.

I've just upgraded to the New Blogger. Hope it works.

A little pre-Paschal, I realise, but just came across the Internet Haggadah. No warranties blah blah blah. And they are still spelling Internet with a Capital Letter.

Today is Holocaust Memorial Day.

Well, actually it was yesterday (27th) but some events took place today, presumably for, er, reasons of observing the Jewish sabbath.

I just saw the segment on Jewish music on the Heaven & Earth show.

They name checked the Burning Bush, Sophie Solomon, Oi Va Voi, Mattisyahu.

It wasn't bad, it really wasn't bad, honest. But they could have just done some research. Like all the "types" of Jewish music? Sefardic, Yiddish Klezmer, Cantorial? Not exactly. YY Rubinstein describing Hasidic Jews (in relation to Mattisyahu) as really orthodox? He should know better.

I know TV is soundbite driven, but all these things are nuanced. And, as Jews, we're nuance driven. The subtle difference between your seemingly identical shul and mine, the apparently similarity of where we came from. All these things need a little debate. And bagels.

Of course there was mention of bagels. Sophie Solomon saying that before she got into klezmer, being Jewish was just her dad bringing home bagels and smoked salmon on a Sunday morning. Hey, that makes me Jewish, too. Ad everyone in Waitrose.

I've noticed - who hasn't - this massive Jewish cultural revival, and Yiddish and klezmer are part of it. I am developing ideas, but I have to go to a pidyon haben. Really. I've never been to one.

Over a lunch, I heard a banker and an FT journalist chatting.

The journalist says, in response to whether they can cover silly stories, what the litmus test is, "we have a test for that. How would we feel if it the story was reported in Private Eye."

To which the bulge bracket banker responded: "we have a test, too. How would we feel if it the story was reported in the FT."

A friend told me this story tonight... her friend was in Argos, wanting to buy an MP3 player. They checked out a few, then made a decision, and said to the sales assistant, "can I have a quick look at this one?" So she took it out, he takes a look, and says to her, "I can't see where it's made."

She takes it off him, gives the MP3 player a detailed look, turning it over in her hand and says to him, "look, here it is. It says "Built in Antenna."

Did you hear the Davos report on Second Life on yesterday's Today programme? You can here it again here.

And you can watch Zefrank on SecondLife here.

Me and a friend always meet in a Costbucks, even though my anti-globalisation gene doesn't totally/really approve of them.

I don't actually drink coffee: I only drink coffee out. I'm a social coffee-drinker. Coffeeist.

But there's a lot of coffee out there. In the hairdresser they offer me coffee. And every single meeting I go to, people have high-end coffee kit and do the business. It's almost as if work's the side-issue. Coffee is the main issue. Like, I often "have coffee" with people who are not friends; work colleagues, ex colleagues, possible clients, friends of friends. Having coffee is big.

So you need a place to do it.

Thoughtful piece in today's Guardian on cafefication culture.

It's just crossed my mind that Oyster Cards are probably called that because the world is your oyster. Look: 60 other people have kinda thought about this in some way.

Although, really, the city is your oyster.

And then again, maybe not.

through the glass door

through the glass door

OK, I know. Enough with the snow, already.

weird, huh?

weird, huh?

Surreal. Snow on the bush.

car snow

car snow

I love the granularity of the snow: it looks almost like sugar.

snowbike

snowbike

Perhaps a little too cold to cycle.

footprint in the snow

footprint in the snow

Not that deep, but attractive.

snow in my garden

snow in my garden

Flickr was flaky this morning - the wonder of snow at like 8am.

34sp's ears must have been burning: As I posted that, it started working again. As if by magic...

Look. I'm numbers one and two on google for 34sp.com lousy company blog - presumably because they've fallen over again.

I realise shit happens etc, technology yadda yadda, but it just seems to happen a lot with them. Coupled with last week's 1and1 issues (which I didn't even blog because reading about other people's technical hitches can get a tad dull, I realise), I'm stuck.

Here's the deal. I have 163 email addresses (slight exaggeration: five) spread over two ISPs - 1and1 and 34sp. This way, I can always work even if one goes down - I just use the other. It costs me a little more, but given that everything I do is email based, it works on a low-stress basis.

Except now. I sent out a bunch of mails on my 34sp address, because 1and1 was flaky last week. Now, 34sp is flaky and people are trying to respond but can't.

Aaargh.

And I know 34sp are a bit slow on the uptake, and I've been meaning to move, but I need someone who does IMAP and multiple domains, and that's not so many people.

Modernity can get very annoying. Yes it's fabulous that I can communicate with people all over the known universe and do things at the speed of light and blah blah blah. But I've got used to it. I expect a minimum level of service, and even though I'm calm, I'm just slightly narked that I can't do stuff. Now.

Some (naysayers and doom-prophets, to be sure) say we live in a technology twilight zone - the last few years of when everything works properly before spam and outages and the energy roll over mean we're all wandering around with candles and wifi is but a distant (fond) memory.

Who knows. But right now: I just want things to work.

Also, Flickr is flaky, so I can't blog my photos. Gah.

Y'know, I kinda get a little ticked off when people say a blog is just an "online diary" but I never have a succinct, easy answer to what else it is.

So here's a piece from the Sunday Times that kinda wound me up (although interesting) about the couple who make the big time in blogs (Ben and Mena to you and me).

I saw that India Knight/Neris Thomas book, and kinda even flicked through it. Every woman's secret, right?

But Zoe Williams is spot on - you can't really be taken seriously if you go on and on about you weight.

Anyone ever been to Beautiful and Damned at Boogaloo? I have nineteen twenties clothes. I'm thinking about it.

So, I finally got into bed (long day) and Leon the Pig Farmer is showing on BBC2.

Made by fellow Mancunian Gary Sinyor in 1993, I have to say, it's not aged that well. The Jewish stereotypes feel... well, stereotypical, and while back in the early nineties it was kinda cool to see a "Jewish film" but... beer for the non-Jewish workman? Regional accents? Works for his parents in a net curtain business? Camp gay farmer's son?You like to think life would be more... nuanced.

Anyway, back in 1993, I was working abroad in my first job, and I came back for the weekend, and everyone I knew - and I do mean everyone - was an extra in the wedding scene and it was too late for me to do it and also I didn't have any party clothes in my weekend bag, and I had to spend the weekend on my own.

I've got over it. But still. I saw Gary in the summer, we were on a panel together about Jewish identity, but we didn't discuss the film. Or our.. shared history (landsleit, stuff happens.)

Diaspora Blues or Insider Trading?

There were two articles in last week's (11 Jan) Economist; one a leader entitled Diaspora Blues, the other in the international section entitle Second thoughts about the Promised land. I can't like either, as the Economist is seriously pay-for-play.


Both covered the same ground; Jewish identity is changing because as Israel is no longer a focal point of Jewish identity. Jewish identity doesn't need to be predicated on "my country right or wrong."

Now, I'm not going to argue for or against these positions. But I will say this: while I don't subscribe to the keep-it-in-the-family approach to Jewish politics and community, and I'm happy to say in public (online, here) whatever I'd say around a friday night dinner table, and I don't talk quietly when non-Jews (I know, I know..) are listening, some subjects are just insiderish.

So my first thought was: there's somebody totally insiderish on the Economist staff. Unzerer in high places are not uncommon, but this argument, this position comes from a Jewish/left/post-Habonim position. It wouldn't surprise me if some short, balding bespecated future editor of the Guardian (my stereotype, my bad) had pitched a story to John Micklethwait and he'd bought it.

Because this piece is not a broadsheet leader. It's not a think-piece in the New Statesman. It's involved-Jew shabbes-table fayre, or post-social-action drink, pure and simple. It cites concepts (social action, tikkun olam, Jewish cultural revivals) so accurately, so specifically, it has to be an inside-job.

And then, I get to the end of the non-leader piece. Tony Lerman if the JPR (Jewish Policy Research Institute), a man about whom there has been a certain degree of controversy over his views on Israel recently, is quoted extensively under the "don't worry, be Jewish" heading.

So, it seems to me, and it's an opinion, that's all, that both these articles are the result of Tony Lerman, or his press people, if he has them, pitching the idea to the Economist. Because however good a journalist you are, you can't know this much stuff, this accurately.

Whether this is good or bad, I don't know. It's just interesting.

NB: I realise I'm a little late to the party on this, last week and all, hardly internet time, but I've been busy. Forgive me.

DJ Tan getting on down...

DJ Tan getting on down...

My friend J wanted to start a Rosh Chodesh group, and then there was a bit of debate, and our nascent group ended up going to The Blessed Beat at the Spitz, to see the Ghettoplotz crew (I saw crew ironically: a twentysomething bloke with a clipboard asked me and my crew to, er, "hang" while we were at the door. Now, as you all know, Jews wait impatiently, argue, demand, but hang they do not. But then, he's a guy who grew up in the generation who want to be Ali G.)

But anyway, they played a great set, with new visuals and an excellent vibe. I danced, took photos, saw people I hadn't seen in a while. Hey, it's a Jew Do, that's what you do.

Hey, I have just imported all the Jewish holidays and candle lighting times and everything into Outlook from hebcal.com. I love them.

Comment to Andy Duncan in response to his "racism is a complex issue" statement: "when someone fails to pronounce your name properly, makes fun of the way you eat, because your culture is different, makes fun of your accent, that's racism."

Andy responded that they have intervened twice, once with Daniella last night, and once with Jade, as we can see tonight. But it's subjective. Rigorous process in C4 to deal with complaints they've received. Key concern to deal with what's gone on in the house appropriately. (The OFCOM guy's first question this morning was about this, and they said they had 24,000 complaints, easily a record for them).

Andy was asked whether essentially it's an issue of C4 complaince lawyers deciding whether stipulations of the programme code have been met.

Andy said that they've checked with Shilpa, she doesn't think it's racism.

Summary of Andy Duncan's keynote:

We know the British people. We get diverse. We have a new website. Shameless is an iconic British programme. Regional, based in Manchester. Next year, sisxteen Shamelesses. We want to be like America. Paul Abbot's a genius. Skins average writer age is 22. We are yoof. It's all about innovation. Social networks. Commitment. Innovation. Outstanding. Dig at Panorama-lite. On-stream and off-stream contributions. Nurturing the independent sector. Economic impact of Channel4 is £2bn. Plurality of sources, suppliers, regionality. Money money money. Talent policy. We are people people. You wouldn't believe how much we spend on training. Creative economy, we make a huge contribution. PSP. Don't be complacent. Policy issues of the decade; BBC; switchover; newmedia/UGC; acheiving plurality of public service. It's our twentyfifth anniversary year, we wear t-shirts and do good stuff for the people.

Here are some things I've noticed:
- everyone who works in television calls it telly
- the words of the day are "compelling" and "narrative"
- people keep showing ad reels, and it's annoying
- whenever pubs go gastro, they paint themsleves matt black

Andy Duncan

Andy Duncan

I know this is terribly old media of me, but I really feel that Andy Duncan should have dressed up a bit: he's just wearing a t-shirt.

He's just read out the press statement about Big Brother and the "apparently racist" comments. Also, he says that Big Brother "goes to the heart of who we are". So any press is good press?

Now he's going on to his keynote, covering, bigger picture digital, the vision for Channel 4 2012 and beyond, remarks on the OFCOM review of Channel 4, and the delivery of the Channel 4 remit, and the wider and positive impact Channel 4 has on wider UK society.

And now he's showing an advert. His. For Channel4OD (which I'm quite excited about).

Everyone's just itching to ask about Big Brother. You can tell.

He looks a little... hassled. It's been a busy day. That's what they pay him the big bucks for.


Update: I just read this profile and now I know being informal is Andy's "thing". And he sounds like a great guy.

Andy Duncan from Channel 4 is just about to give his keynote, and it's only 44 minutes since Carphone Warehouse dropped its Big Brother sponsorship over racism row.

The internet, it's great, isn't it?

I'm at the Oxford Media Convention in Oxford (of course: trains were totally crap this morning, took two hours to get here). Jemima Kiss is live blogging across the room from me, so there's not a lot for me to say about content. One person's notes are much like another's.

Here's a weird thing. There are very few people here with laptops, and a lot of people writing notes in notebooks. Which is OK, but a little retro, no? A guy sitting behind me asked who "these people" are with laptops. Are we journalists? I looked round the room, and thought, we're the online-folk.

I just heard someone use websensed as a verb. As in, "we couldn't acces those sites, they were just websensed out."

Did you know that Brits love google more than micro$oft?

It's the pre-Paschal season, so I'm delighted to discover that I'm still on the Google front page for coconut pyramids.

Truly, madly, deeply

Truly, madly, deeply

I saw this sign somewhere in town. I think it's a club, right?

And While London Burns A (green) operatic audio tour across the City. Download it to your MP3 player now, you know you want to.

Great piece on the economics and logistics of why people don't repair things anymore. Like I have a kettle I've had for fifteen years (shhhh, don't talk too loud, it might hear me and break), and I know when it dies it'll be over. I like the olden days of household husbandry, or whatever you call it.

Did you know that, according to Time magazine, you are the person of the year?

TODAY IS A BIG DAY

Blogwise, I mean. Today, five years ago (well, at 3.22 in the afternoon) I decided to blog, because I met Luke and he'd been doing it since May 2000, and had an eighteen month head-start on me.

Through him, I found other blogs (there were not so many then; Meg, Tom, Shauna)and realised there was this... thing out there, blogging, which was about writing (to me) and the internet and that was my bag.

My style's changed in five years. I don't recommend you go back and read the early stuff because (a) it's not that interesting, because (b) the really interesting stuff has all been taken down. It took me a while to get my blogging feet, and I went straight on hiatus in February, but by April I was writing regularly, and I haven't really stopped since.

I feel fairly sure I've written a lot of words (maybe a million) in that time, and although most of them are not so great, some of them are good, and all of them have let me write and that's what I love doing. Sure, I've had my ups and downs (who wouldn't in five years) and I haven't stopped using brackets too often, and have developed my own idiosyncratic writing style, which includes slightly odd punctuation and extremely rare usage of exclamation marks. That's the joy of not having an editor.

So, what've I learned in five years?

I like writing

I really like writing

How and where to draw the line

Red tops will do anything for a story

Other bloggers are really nice people

The world moves fast - I can write what I think quicker than someone on a newspaper can get it subbed, and I can pick up the phone and ask questions the same as anyone

And what's... happened in that five years? Well, without being too personal, which I try not to be nowadays, I think I've grown and changed quite a bit. Whether it's down to blogging, I don't know, but I think blogging is partly responsible for my improved state, although I guess I could have just had a word document on my laptop, but (a) I have one anyway, and (b) what fun would that be?

Blogging is really about the conversation. Sometimes it's a conversation I'm having with myself, sometimes I hit a nerve and people join me. Quite often, actually. I get a lot of mail. Blogging is iterative. Blogging is something I hate describing to people at dinner parties (it's just a website, right? Or a diary.) Blogging - or writing this regularly - helps me process, sort, all the stuff going on in my head, perform without leaving my house, it's even helped me earn a living.

That's the main thing. When I started, I was wannabe writer with broadband and a laptop. I remember being really angry about the first Guardian blogging competition, because Tom seemed to think I was a professional writer, and started saying it was unfair that I might win. And now... I make a chunk of my living from writing. I still haven't finished my novel (although it's a different novel from the one I started back in 2002), but I'm way closer to getting to where I want to be, even if I'm not exactly moving at internet time. Before my blog, I'd done push-marketing: sent stuff out to editors and agents, sat and waited. PB (post blog) it's pull-marketing: the people really do come to me. It's not why I blog, or started blogging, but it's helped me get closer to what I want, and sometimes it's the journey not the destination.

So... I'm rambling. But hey, if I can't ramble on my Blogiversary, who can?

In my new minimal lifestyle (less belongings, I wish), I don't actually need anything. And I don't really believe in asking for presents. Although, obviously, I like receiving gifts as much as the next person.

But if you've enjoyed my writing over the last five years, I'd invite you to make a donation or micro-donation (all sums help, I have to raise £5,500) to my humanitarian aid mission to Moldova in May. This is absolutely an invitation, not an imperative, and feel free to give or not give as you wish.

And thank you for reading. If you weren't reading, it would be a word document on my laptop. How retro.

This story: is both bizarre and disturbing. Disturbing in that a woman died for no good reason at all. But bizarre that a radio station (or anyone) would come up with a "hold your wee for a Wii" competition. The world is getting very, very scary.

I saw Happy Feet last week (not my natural choice, but I loved it and ended up in tears), and the soundtrack is fabulous.

Now I've read more chicklit novels than the average person I'm sure (all for science, I tellya), and I've seen a fair few movies, too - here's Emily Barr's piece on what makes the perfect chickflick.

Do you think we'll really be able to lose weight with an 'obesity-busting chewing gum'?

I have got my email inbox down to less than 900. This sounds a lot but (a) it was over 2,000 and (b) I regard less than 500 as a triumph.

There are a bunch of websites that give you houseprice information - it's just the Land Registry data, with a nice front end, really. So you don't know if the place is gold-plated or a burned-out shell.

At the weekend, a conversation led to this idea - there should be comments on these sites. My preferred site is Houseprices.co.uk but they're all much of a muchness. What you really want is local colour, "did you see what the Levines did to their kitchen? Abortion." "I mean, they ripped out all the fitted furniture and carpets, and did wooden floors and fireplaces, can you believe?"

Comments, that's what would differentiate one set of houseprice data from another. A libel lawyer I'm not (although I don't know if you can libel a house, I suspect not), but it would be interesting, no?

just click your heels...

just click your heels...

I'm not on commission from Primark, honest, but I saw these yesterday and they're reduced from £12 to £6, and I took the photo because they have my flatmate's name written all over them.

Which reminds me of a Primark story overheard in the (long) queue: one woman says to another, "this is the only place you'd shoplift to save time, not money."

Of course that's not true. There's Matalan, as well.

In a surprising move (most City commentators expected rates to stay at 5% for a short while) the Bank of England raises interest rates to 5.25%. Not great news for un-fixed mortgages, but good news for savers and the next cash ISA season. Might even dampen property prices. They wish. It's all about lack of supply, in a macro sense.

The Jewish Book Week 2007 programme is online. It's good. Book tickets quicky. Although not so quickly that I can't get any.

Two great pieces from the New York Times* from angst-ridden (but cool) writer Shalom Auslander** Celebrity Crazy and Love Child.

***

* Use login/password sashablog/sashablog.
* Also, isn't the internet great? I can read the New York Times in Kilburn. A few years back, I was a techheadhunter, and we were very high end and I had to wear a suit everyday and they made me tie my (slightly unruly) hair back and not wear chunky jewelry. It was a very silly, oak-panelled business. Kinda like being an estate agent for people, but without the intellectual stimulation. Anyway, me and my lead partner used to go to week-long lunches to "get the brief" for the new CTO, and we'd come out and look at each other and say "webbiness and globality" then, which was what most people wanted. And also, it doesn't matter what the brief is: usually people hire the person they like, even if they don't quite fit the brief.
** I heard Shalom Auslander speak on a panel at Jewish Book Week last year, with Naomi Alderman. He was so very angry that you could feel the tension in his life just from watching how he sat in his chair, even. I don't know if that much anger is good for a person. Even though he says in the Love Child story that he doesn't like anger anymore, so maybe the therapy's working.
** Also, in the Therapy short story, I don't really get why he keeps making a date with his therapist? Can you do next Tuesday? How's Thursday? It's not coffee with a friend, it's supposed to be a regular commitment. Like Woody Allen says; with strict Freudian therapy, if you die, they make you pay for the sessions you missed.
*** Yes, I'm rambling. My mojo went to Marbella, but it may have returned****.
**** Or may not have done. We'll see.

Five Things People Don't Know About Me

I am bad when people tag me for things, because I suspect I'm meme-resistant, but hey, Meg's my buddy, so, here goes...

1 I'm going to Moldova in May on a humanitarian mission
Yes, Moldova, a country immortalised by comedian Tony Hawk's book, Playing the Moldovans at Tennis, used to be part of Romania, and is next door to where my maternal great grandparents came from at the turn of the previous century. They left because of the pogroms in around 1897, which makes me third generation. There's a tiny Jewish community left there, and I'm going on a trip with a dozen or so other people, and we're buying four vans (which we leave there for them to use as minibuses/ambulances) filled with clothes, medicine, aid in general. I have to raise £5,500, and if you'd like to support me, you can do so here.

2 I was a charity trustee...
For a couple of years, a couple of years ago, and because I'm self-employed, it was only when I did my accounts I realised how much time it had taken, and I'd actually earned 40% less that year. And I'd felt really busy. Learn from this what you will. I don't - obviously - disagree with charity, I just learned that I have to learn where to drawn the line.

3 I have multiple names for various reasons
It's a long story, that I won't go into here (because I'm not that interested/don't want to bore you/it's late) but it ocassionally creates entertaining scenarios like "do you have a sister?" etc. The complex life is not worth living.

4 I wrote a book by accident
This can happen. As you know, I've been working on my novel for three years and blah blah blah. I got into a diversionary project by mistake this summer (and bear in mind that Google tells all its employees to spend Friday's on their interesting diversionary projects and it's a very creative/lucrative thing, viz gmail, froogle etc). And my diversionary project turned into kinda a book, and I wrote 75,000 words when I should have been doing something else. Washing my hair?

5 I used to be a telephone counsellor
I really enjoyed it, although I did feel slightly out of place. Like everyone else was a social worker/advice worker/nurse, and they spoke Public Sector and I spoke Bottom Line. So they were all really good at the "I'm wondering how you're feeling about the issue around the issue..." I'm a straight talker, and that's what people pay me for, mostly. I learned some good listening skills and how to reflect and be empathic and that was good. And it's stood me in good stead: I'm the sort of person if someone's having an affair/thinking of leaving their partner/done something terrible, I'm the person they call to talk to. It's happened to me a lot of times now, so there's not much left that can shock me. The human condition is: painful, sometimes. People have hard things to think about. And when I go on long train journeys I try quite hard not to sit next to someone who looks like they have a big secret, although, as we all know, most people have big secrets, especially the ones who look like they don't.

So there you go. It's tricky with my kinda blog, because a lot of what I write is personal, to a degree. And the stuff I choose not to say, there's a reason for. Also, I have a terrible memory, so it's possible I have said these things before and therefore you already know them... I hope not.

Fresh ugwu, fresh ewedu

Fresh ugwu, fresh ewedu

I don't actually know what ugwu or ewedu are, but at least they're fresh.

So, State of Play IV is happening now in Singapore, and I didn't go because (partly, apart from eco-footprint etc) they're were putting videos live online. So, er, podcasts and recorded videos? Empty. Great, the on-demand age, isn't it.

I'm very sad that Magnus Magnusson died. For a reason I don't totally understand, I have a very warm spot for the Mastermind host. Maybe because one of my little catchphrases is "that'll be your specialist subject on Mastermind". Mine, of course, will be UK blogging 2001 - 2004.

I know it's five year's old, and I stumbled across it in a typical web way... (I was looking at the site of the artist Zoë Mendelson), when I happened on this brilliant piece she wrote when discovered she had type one diabetes at the age of twenty five.

I am Angry of Kilburn when it comes to this year's round of fare rises.

In fact, I went out to lunch on new year's day, and think I bored a (potentially new) friend rigid with my mini-rant on fare rises and poor transport infrastructure. Frankly, the woman couldn't gather her handbag quickly enough and jump into her 4x4 (this is dramatic licence: I don't know what car she drove, or even if she drove a car.

But it's crap that they made us get Oyster cards because they're "cheaper" and now bus fares have risen 20% (£1 from 80p) and we're now the most expensive place to travel in the world.

Great.

Which is why I love this entertaining piece in the Guardian; An insider's guide to cheap railwaty tickets. Especiall this bit:

The most stylish and ridiculously brilliant fare-saving tactic, however, is this: do you travel around the country reasonably regularly after 10am but don't qualify for any discount cards? Wherever you live, march into your nearest station and demand a season ticket for the three-minute journey from Ryde St Johns Road to Ryde Esplanade on the Isle of Wight.

This, the cheapest season ticket in the UK, will set you back £116. Buying a season ticket automatically gives you a "Gold Card" - which entitles you to a third off almost all off-peak UK fares. You can also upgrade to first class for £5 return on most of your journeys if you want to give yourself a treat.

I am so thinking about getting an electric car. There's even an electric car hire company, although their pricing seems a little.... well, unclear. Anyway, here's TfL's green-y stuff. All well and good, but soon we'll all be spending so much on our travelcards we won't have a penny left for anything else anyway. Not even, say, Green & Blacks chocolate. Or Boden clothes. Darling.

Always late to the party, me (although it's apparently sometimes fashionable). Did anyone see Second Lives on Channel 4 in the summer? Thanks to the joy of Youtube, this looks like the Tim Guest segment.

Have I ever mentioned that I love Sunday morning's Heaven and Earth show? I think it's partially because I have a degree in comparative religion, and I never thought it could be TV. Sometimes, even, cool TV.

Anway, Sunday, I discovered that Fiddler on the Roof is on at the Crucible in Sheffield, and I really want to see it. Check out the Guardian review.

The last few years, I've been very taken with voluntary simplicity, and the slowness movement(cooking, life, travel) and all that jazz. Now I discoverLong Now.

This Life (reprise)

So I had a group activity last night (watched with a bunch of buddies, having seen the end of the last series on video - how last century, I know). It left a lot of questions unanswered - what happened to Miles' first wife? How did Ferdy die? Why wasn't there an apostrophe in the Writers Week (sic) poster at the British Library talk?

Criticisms? Well, Amy Jenkins hasn't had any serious success since she first conceived the original series (despite her fulsome wikipedia entry), and last night felt a little formulaic. Almost like she wrote a list; war in Iraq, ipods, fertility, yummy-mummy angst. So there was some of the old magic, and the script was pretty good... but you can't help wondering about the meta-ness of the whole thing.

At the time, I remember Amy Jenkins being censured to some degree for basically writing about her own friends sharing a London house, and when she came to write about other things, they apparently were not so critically acclaimed. And now, that's what Egg's doing; it's kinda like Amy's writing about herself, and Egg comes out all OK in the end, even though you don't totally know what his and Milly's relationship is really like.

The great characters were still there, but they've turned into caricatures; Anna is a desperate single; Warren is a hippy life coach; Miles is a failed hotelier ... Hobotel just sounds like Habbohotel for grownups, right? (not everything is entirely clear, like a lot of Amy's stuff, too many loose ends. She prides herself on being "plotless" in a modern way, but it's slightly unsatisfying).

Amy's clearly been reading Malcolm; I so recognised Anna's little monologue about some scientist who can tell how long couples will stay together from analysing fifteen minutes of conversation... and then a friend texted to remind me it's from Blink.

There's a great Telegraph piece (commenting on Tony Garnett's ground breaking direction), and the music (apparently selected by Ricky Gervais) is brilliant, spot-on. And there's a whole BBC microsite (which N last night described as midrash) where you can find out everything about everyone... like, did you know that Egg and Miles are best friends in real life and really were best men at each other's weddings?

Like all modern TV, it's a commentary on everything that's gone before; there's shades of Friends (opening shot in the fountain), Peter's Friends, Big Brother and every other celebrity thang... but for a brief moment I felt like it was ten years ago, and that may or may not be a good thing. Although, even though they're in a £7m mansion, they still all wander around in their pajamas like there's only one bathroom. Some things never change.

I just came acorss The Right Ingredients, who bill themselves as "food and drink delivery", although in market parlance, they're in the semi-cooked marketplace. You know the deal - you choose a menu, and they deliver all the weighed-and-measured ingredients. You have all the thrill of cooking without the hassle of shopping and preparing. Well, maybe a little chopping.

Reminds me of Leaping Salmon... but then they went out of business, apparently. Do you remember, they had a little shoplet on the forecourt at Victoria?

So are you watching the This Life ten year reunion? It's tonight at 9pm.