That I've been meaning to read / post / etc
(I never understood, before, when people used to say to me, how do you have time to blog? And I used to say, I don't even understand the question. All my time was my own, and I'm a fast worker and I get stuff done, and it was no big deal to post like ten times a day. Now, with a baby and house and partner etc... juggling seems to be the new me, and the stuff I want to do somehow gets to the bottom of the list)
Malcolm Gladwell on overconfidence - must read this, despite being slightly underwhelmed by seeing him in person in November
Disappointed that Shiny Media seems to have gone into administration. I like to think I helped them on their way to fame and fortune, putting Chris Price on the Guardian Changing Media Summit 2006 blogging panel. Wish I'd had a slice of the alleged £4.5m funding. Wish them all the best of luck - although microblogging and the old ad revenue model: personally, still not convinced
In the Night Garden: I am down with Iggle Piggle and Macca Pacca (even if D says I don't know all the characters) - now a firm part of Zaphod's bedtime routine and totally worth the licence fee (and undoubtedly better if you're stoned)
Train: a board game about the holocaust
It Felt Like a Kiss at the Manchester Festival - dead sad we didn't get to see it, but delighted that it's coming to London, apparently, in the autumn. I love Punchdrunk, D loves Adam Curtis: it's our perfect evening out
Jay McInerny is looking a lot older than he used to (but then, aren't we all)
Obama's purple folder: if you know me well (or at all) you will know that purple is my theme colour, and I am delighted that I share this small characteristic with Barak / the leader of the free world
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Thursday, July 09, 2009
From the Golden Book of the JNF
An inscription, I'm guessing from the fifties or sixties, in memory of my maternal great grandfather, Chaim Sugarman, made by my grandparents Hilda (Hinda) and Sam (Simcha). I've even seen the photo of my grandparents actually receiving it.
There's something very satisfying about knowing where you come from (in my case, the Old Country).
There's something very satisfying about knowing where you come from (in my case, the Old Country).
Levens Hall Leaded Window
Excellent trip yesterday to Levens Hall (we're in Cumbria). After you've bought your (quite expensive ticket) and they've told you you can take the buggy in, turns out you can't, so I went round on my own while D and Zaphod took in the topiary garden.
And they don't tell you till you're inside that you can't take photos (not as information, but as a telling-off if you get your camera out). Apparently, the insurers don't like it. Like I'm casing the joint to refurnish my Kilburn home. Hardly.
But I couldn't help sneaking a couple of photos. Give me a challenge, blah blah blah...
And they don't tell you till you're inside that you can't take photos (not as information, but as a telling-off if you get your camera out). Apparently, the insurers don't like it. Like I'm casing the joint to refurnish my Kilburn home. Hardly.
But I couldn't help sneaking a couple of photos. Give me a challenge, blah blah blah...
Lavender Cupcakes
I can't tell you how Nigella I felt making these. OK, in my childhood they were called fairycakes, but like everything nowadays they've been rebranded.
And not a Nigella recipe, a Hummingbird Cafe recipe, except I didn't think they're soaking the lavender in milk would work, so I heated it slightly to infuse properly to get the flavour.
Lavender courtesy of J's garden. Cakes eaten by F, W, J & E on their trip from NY. Where, of course, cupcakes are traditional fayre. Oh, the land of the free.
And not a Nigella recipe, a Hummingbird Cafe recipe, except I didn't think they're soaking the lavender in milk would work, so I heated it slightly to infuse properly to get the flavour.
Lavender courtesy of J's garden. Cakes eaten by F, W, J & E on their trip from NY. Where, of course, cupcakes are traditional fayre. Oh, the land of the free.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Michael Jackson has died
So D and I couldn't quite go to bed last night; the news that Michael Jackson died turned us both into news buffs: channel surfing and web watching (twitter went down, that's how you know there's real news).
Kinda reminded me of when Diana died, except there wasn't that everyone cares thing, more of a everyone from the seventies and eighties cares - like, do my friends teenage children care? I'm guessing not.
Aside: D and I were reminiscing that when Diana died twelve years ago, we didn't know each other, but we were across the Kilburn High Road from each other, little knowing what the future held.
I have Thriller and Off the Wall as real, old-fashioned albums, tucked away in my parents house, probably turntable-less, reminding me of a previous technical era, as much as the music. And they were probably among the first albums I bought - I might even have been in junior school.
When I was a kid, all the cool kids could do the (early) Michael Jackson dance with the slidey feet.
And the music. Was mesmeric. I remember bat mitzvah discos where they played Don't Stop Till You Get Enough and Thriller and everyone danced, even the people who didn't want to.
Maybe Wacko Jacko is like Woody Allen - it's the early works that count. I mean, the skin thing, and the alleged kid thing, and letting all the money go to his head, and hanging one of his kids out of a balcony, and just, well, the ... weirdness made him less interesting. Of course now there's a lot of weird celebrities who let the money go to their head (you always read about contracts stating how huge the entourage is and how they only drink freshly squeezed organic guava juice) but most of them don't have any huge talent.
Jackson, on the other hand, for all his (later) weirdness, really knew how to make music and dance: an old fashioned entertainer. Put all the other crap to one side. RIP, Michael, and like half the planet, I'll be looking out my albums for one last listen.
Kinda reminded me of when Diana died, except there wasn't that everyone cares thing, more of a everyone from the seventies and eighties cares - like, do my friends teenage children care? I'm guessing not.
Aside: D and I were reminiscing that when Diana died twelve years ago, we didn't know each other, but we were across the Kilburn High Road from each other, little knowing what the future held.
I have Thriller and Off the Wall as real, old-fashioned albums, tucked away in my parents house, probably turntable-less, reminding me of a previous technical era, as much as the music. And they were probably among the first albums I bought - I might even have been in junior school.
When I was a kid, all the cool kids could do the (early) Michael Jackson dance with the slidey feet.
And the music. Was mesmeric. I remember bat mitzvah discos where they played Don't Stop Till You Get Enough and Thriller and everyone danced, even the people who didn't want to.
Maybe Wacko Jacko is like Woody Allen - it's the early works that count. I mean, the skin thing, and the alleged kid thing, and letting all the money go to his head, and hanging one of his kids out of a balcony, and just, well, the ... weirdness made him less interesting. Of course now there's a lot of weird celebrities who let the money go to their head (you always read about contracts stating how huge the entourage is and how they only drink freshly squeezed organic guava juice) but most of them don't have any huge talent.
Jackson, on the other hand, for all his (later) weirdness, really knew how to make music and dance: an old fashioned entertainer. Put all the other crap to one side. RIP, Michael, and like half the planet, I'll be looking out my albums for one last listen.
Friday, June 12, 2009
On Tanya Gold and her hatred of wedding lists and dinner parties (and her writing in general)
I have loved Tanya Gold's writing since at least 2004 but I worry about her.
On the one hand, she's smart and funny. And although she seems not to like it when people say this, writes in a kinda-Jewish way which I like.
On the other hand, she let's it all hang out. She wrote that piece in the Guardian saturday magazine a year or so ago about getting back in touch with all her ex-boyfriends and details of their (then) sex life. Fascinating, in a car crash kinda way. But, too...
Too much. Too personal. Too honest. It moves beyond what's in a personal blog in the early nineties that no-one probably reads, to being in a major newspaper and everyone knows who you (and your friends and family) are.
There's always that delicate line when you're a writer. Being honest, un-nuanced, is considered a good thing. But how much of yourself do you share?
Like, if I'd just invited Tanya to my wedding, I probably wouldn't be that happy about this piece. (And no, I didn't have a wedding list: I agree. Wedding lists are for people who don't have two tea-towels to rub together because they're nineteen and live in Stamford Hill. We, on the other hand, were rather Noah's Ark: two of everything (and then some)).
On the one hand, she's smart and funny. And although she seems not to like it when people say this, writes in a kinda-Jewish way which I like.
On the other hand, she let's it all hang out. She wrote that piece in the Guardian saturday magazine a year or so ago about getting back in touch with all her ex-boyfriends and details of their (then) sex life. Fascinating, in a car crash kinda way. But, too...
Too much. Too personal. Too honest. It moves beyond what's in a personal blog in the early nineties that no-one probably reads, to being in a major newspaper and everyone knows who you (and your friends and family) are.
There's always that delicate line when you're a writer. Being honest, un-nuanced, is considered a good thing. But how much of yourself do you share?
Like, if I'd just invited Tanya to my wedding, I probably wouldn't be that happy about this piece. (And no, I didn't have a wedding list: I agree. Wedding lists are for people who don't have two tea-towels to rub together because they're nineteen and live in Stamford Hill. We, on the other hand, were rather Noah's Ark: two of everything (and then some)).
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Royal Mail profits may almost have doubled
according to the BBC, but they don't seem to deliver on their core competencies.
I'm waiting for three important documents in the post and it's been a few weeks.
Oh well, profit. That's what counts. Service, who gives a f***.
I'm waiting for three important documents in the post and it's been a few weeks.
Oh well, profit. That's what counts. Service, who gives a f***.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Even Tesco has got into online video
So, just about to do my weekly armchair shop, and I discover that Tesco has a series of Top Tips Videos (can't help wondering how many marketing peeps it took to come up with that great name).
Video quality: poor, kinda home-video-esque. Voiceover: slightly sarcastic, and a poorly written script which forces some woman to say "Sunday just can't come soon enough!" at the end of the yorkshire puddings video.
But they're good - I might even try poaching eggs just in water instead of in one of the several egg-poaching paraphenalia we have.
Video quality: poor, kinda home-video-esque. Voiceover: slightly sarcastic, and a poorly written script which forces some woman to say "Sunday just can't come soon enough!" at the end of the yorkshire puddings video.
But they're good - I might even try poaching eggs just in water instead of in one of the several egg-poaching paraphenalia we have.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
And we're at phase four
I take pandemic preparedness quite seriously. The current WHO phase of pandemic alert is phase four. Phase five is an actual pandemic.
Of course, a lot of the hoo-har is as much the media coverage, when it's getting to that slow news season; the Guardian even has a special web section for swineflu. And there might even be a swineflu Typhoid Mary.
Of course, a lot of the hoo-har is as much the media coverage, when it's getting to that slow news season; the Guardian even has a special web section for swineflu. And there might even be a swineflu Typhoid Mary.
UK homes to get swine flu advice
UK homes to get swine flu advice, the BBC tells me. And I can only think of one thing (as a marketer, and originally a direct marketer in the days when direct mail meant a lot of print / envelopes); that's a huge print job for someone.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Requiem for The West Wing
After coming up for nearly two years, I have just watched the final episode of The West Wing. I've dedicated approximately 150 hours, spent time with the characters, learned about incredible TV writing (from Aaron Sorkin), laughed, cried, understood what the Electoral College is...
... and all I can say is: wow. Brief lull in the fifth series, where the lack of Aaron's writing really showed (he wrote the first four "Emmy winning" seasons single-handedly) but it picked up again in season six.
A (wise and US-TV obsessed) friend said to me, when he realised I was only in season three, how lucky I was to have it all before me, waiting, for the first time. And it's only now it's over that I understand what he meant.
I'm going to miss all the characters. They really felt real. I'm totally going to miss the weird out-of-context Jewish references (often by not-even-Jewish characters) that I feel like Aaron wrote just for me to spot.
And I feel inspired. To write. To walk-and-talk. To say "what's next" (ironically, of course), and to imagine the lives of the people I got to know (Josh, CJ, Donna) afterwards. That's the power of really good writing: it lights a touchpaper in your imagination.
What's next?
... and all I can say is: wow. Brief lull in the fifth series, where the lack of Aaron's writing really showed (he wrote the first four "Emmy winning" seasons single-handedly) but it picked up again in season six.
A (wise and US-TV obsessed) friend said to me, when he realised I was only in season three, how lucky I was to have it all before me, waiting, for the first time. And it's only now it's over that I understand what he meant.
I'm going to miss all the characters. They really felt real. I'm totally going to miss the weird out-of-context Jewish references (often by not-even-Jewish characters) that I feel like Aaron wrote just for me to spot.
And I feel inspired. To write. To walk-and-talk. To say "what's next" (ironically, of course), and to imagine the lives of the people I got to know (Josh, CJ, Donna) afterwards. That's the power of really good writing: it lights a touchpaper in your imagination.
What's next?
Chocolate cloud cake
I also made Nigella's chocolate cloud cake (kinda... more orange, no cointreau, heart decoration optional) as it's basically a Pesach recipe. All chocolate and eggs, not a lot else. Basically, a baked chocolate mousse, but delicious.
I made it for the first seder, and it seemed to go down pretty well.
Here's the recipe.
I made it for the first seder, and it seemed to go down pretty well.
Here's the recipe.
The taste of Pesach: eingimach
It's pesach (actually chol hamo'ed, the days in the middle) and before Pesach started, I made eingimach, a traditional passover betroot jam.
It is truly the taste of my childhood. I opened the jar, on the first morning of yom tov, and the rich, sweet, slightly gingery smell transported me to my parents seventies kitchen, sitting having breakfast with Grandma Frieze, first day yom tov, matzah, and butter, and a shmear of eingimach. As a kid, I never liked the almonds, but I guess tastes mature, because as an adult, they quite did it for me.
And I realise that we are the adults our parents were when we were kids. I was the person going round, erev yomtov delivering my eingimach, and people's children are eating it, and I'm auntie (not that anyone does that anymore) Sasha, the grown up who made it.
Check out the recipe and more photos here.
It is truly the taste of my childhood. I opened the jar, on the first morning of yom tov, and the rich, sweet, slightly gingery smell transported me to my parents seventies kitchen, sitting having breakfast with Grandma Frieze, first day yom tov, matzah, and butter, and a shmear of eingimach. As a kid, I never liked the almonds, but I guess tastes mature, because as an adult, they quite did it for me.
And I realise that we are the adults our parents were when we were kids. I was the person going round, erev yomtov delivering my eingimach, and people's children are eating it, and I'm auntie (not that anyone does that anymore) Sasha, the grown up who made it.
Check out the recipe and more photos here.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Obama (Santos) in London
(Yes, still watching the West Wing, in series six).
I can't believe that Obama is here in London. If I didn't have a baby I'd totally be hanging out in town trying to catch a glimpse of him in person.
He's a politican you can trust (we think). He has a stylish/normal wife (we're pretty sure). He tells it like it is. He feels like someone you were at university with whom you always knew would make it, big time. I'm loving how he stood up to AIG. I can't believe he's here in my city, hopefully changing my world. I've been trying to reach A, an american friend of mine, for a couple of days, and I think she's just glued to the TV, soaking it all up.
So I can't quite beleive that what the G20 leaders get to eat is... Jamie Oliver's alright-mate fayre. Showcasing the best of British (samphire /sea kale), sure, but I think that Barak Obama and his ilk live in a world of diverse palates. A world of (religious) vegetarians, ethical vegans etc, so I can't quite beleive he's had the gall to serve "Goat's cheese starter (v)" as the "veggie option" as opposed to the more fullsome "Organic salmon from Shetland, served with samphire and sea kale, a selection of vegetables from Sussex, Surrey and Kent, and Irish soda bread."
Check out his menu.
And Jamie, don't let me think that my entire (almost) vegetarian cuisine is an afterthought.And vegetarians don't even get protein in the main course?
Get real, petal. Having ordered lunch (in the events industry) for tens of thousands of people over the years, I wouldn't dream of serving lamb - a lot of people would have a problem with that. Chicken or salmon is a little lighter, too.
Next time, Gordon, call me. I can get it for you (wholesale). How cool would it be if the G20 leaders came into town and Sasha from Kilburn, just a regular citizen, cooked the lunch?
I'm working on my menu....
I can't believe that Obama is here in London. If I didn't have a baby I'd totally be hanging out in town trying to catch a glimpse of him in person.
He's a politican you can trust (we think). He has a stylish/normal wife (we're pretty sure). He tells it like it is. He feels like someone you were at university with whom you always knew would make it, big time. I'm loving how he stood up to AIG. I can't believe he's here in my city, hopefully changing my world. I've been trying to reach A, an american friend of mine, for a couple of days, and I think she's just glued to the TV, soaking it all up.
So I can't quite beleive that what the G20 leaders get to eat is... Jamie Oliver's alright-mate fayre. Showcasing the best of British (samphire /sea kale), sure, but I think that Barak Obama and his ilk live in a world of diverse palates. A world of (religious) vegetarians, ethical vegans etc, so I can't quite beleive he's had the gall to serve "Goat's cheese starter (v)" as the "veggie option" as opposed to the more fullsome "Organic salmon from Shetland, served with samphire and sea kale, a selection of vegetables from Sussex, Surrey and Kent, and Irish soda bread."
Check out his menu.
And Jamie, don't let me think that my entire (almost) vegetarian cuisine is an afterthought.And vegetarians don't even get protein in the main course?
Get real, petal. Having ordered lunch (in the events industry) for tens of thousands of people over the years, I wouldn't dream of serving lamb - a lot of people would have a problem with that. Chicken or salmon is a little lighter, too.
Next time, Gordon, call me. I can get it for you (wholesale). How cool would it be if the G20 leaders came into town and Sasha from Kilburn, just a regular citizen, cooked the lunch?
I'm working on my menu....
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
earworm...
For some reason, whenever I hear the phrase norovirus, I can't help thinking of Dire Straits lyrics - except in my mind, it says "noro noro, vaccine, see you tomorrow, my son."
Which is my way of saying I/we have been smote in a rather ante-paschal way. I'm about 12 hours behind D, so I'm hoping it's all over by the morning (as I have my final Pesach shop to do).
Which is my way of saying I/we have been smote in a rather ante-paschal way. I'm about 12 hours behind D, so I'm hoping it's all over by the morning (as I have my final Pesach shop to do).
Monday, March 30, 2009
Not exactly ego surfing...
So don't ask me why, but I had a sudden desire to google on New Jew Manifesto, which I wrote back in May 2004
Anyway, it appears that I have been quoted in a paper entitled Vernacular Narcissism, Jewish Postassimilation, and the Comedy of Sarah Silverman by an academic called David Moscowitz, which he presented at the annual meeting of the NCA 94th Annual Convention, in San Diego.
Sadly, I don't seem to be able to find the paper online. So if you're reading, David, could you send it to me?
Anyway, it appears that I have been quoted in a paper entitled Vernacular Narcissism, Jewish Postassimilation, and the Comedy of Sarah Silverman by an academic called David Moscowitz, which he presented at the annual meeting of the NCA 94th Annual Convention, in San Diego.
Sadly, I don't seem to be able to find the paper online. So if you're reading, David, could you send it to me?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Chance Encounter
So, this is how it is.
You've been up all night with your baby son for like six nights in a row, and it's starting to be so you can't tell the difference between night and day (in fact, Friday night I woke up at 4.30 am with phantom baby cries). Let's just say: you've looked better.
In an effort to have something of a normal life, you decide to meet a friend for coffee at Swiss Cottage. Swiss Cottage is one of those places that is too hard to park in (all roundabout, no pavement) and you have to go on the tube, but it's happened more than once that I've gone down to Kilburn tube with Zaphod in the buggy and then the lift is out of order and I've had to shlep him up like 50 steps to the platform, which with my residual pregnancy complication, frankly is no fun.
Which is how I found myself waiting at the C11 bus stop.
It's a sunny day, and I (relatively) jauntily walk up the the bus stop; there's a youngish guy there, smoking a roll-up.
"Yer just missed one," he tells me. The C11 is notorious for arriving only sporadically anyway. His look says "you might as well walk" but aforementioned postpartum yet residual pregnancy complication means walking to Swiss Cottage (which I would have thought nothing of a year ago) is totally out of the question.
I sit down. Could be a long wait.
I angle the buggy so Zaphod isn't in direct sunlight. He is wearing his cool Gap denim jacket (hand-me-down from S, actually the gift I bought her, rather greenily recycled) and his superhero t-shirt (father = comics geek) and his jeans with easy access press-studs (which kinda turn them into a skirt) and a stripey beanie (looks cool but stops him from scratching) although all apart from beanie are hidden by the ridiculous baby cocoon the buggy company don't tell you need to buy till you already bought the buggy and you're a first time mum and you've not got the hang of baby temperature control / layers etc.
Actually, in some respects, having a baby is rather like having a doll: lots of clothes changes, lots of cuddles, and even goes to the toilet (like April Showers - although she only peed).
The guy at the bus stop looks over at Zaphod.
"Cute kid. How old is she?"
"He's five months," I reply. It is kinda hard to decode gender with babies, but the denim getup should kinda give it away.
"You the grandma or the mother?" He asks.
!!!!
(and you know how much I hate exclamation marks).
Now I know I'm tired, and I don't have makeup on, and haven't lost the babyweight, but sheesh. I stay calm.
"Do I really look like a grandma?" I ask him.
He's embarrassed.
"I'm having a bad day, man," he says, drawing on his cigarette. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't even look at your face," he says, looking at my face. I'm not convinced he thinks I'm the mum even now.
He's got a few days' beard, and looks frankly like he could with a shower. He's asian, wearing jeans and a hoodie, and that large kippah that I don't know the name of, and got a faraway look in his eye and a lilt to his voice. His body language says he fee's bad about insulting me.
"See, I'm just having a bad day."
And I think mostly because he feels bad, or maybe because he just wants to talk, or possibly because I have a friendly face, he tells me his story.
I came here from Yemen seven years ago, left my family. I was just a teenager. And I met this girl, she's not a muslim, her family are Christian, she's from Poland. We lived together for six years. I really loved her. I mean, I lived with her, yeah, man. I didn't just hang out and visit and go home, I knew her. I loved her. And now she's gone, going back to her country.
He looks at me; I think he's going to cry.
And I gave everything for her. Broke off with my family in Yemen because she's not muslim. And - how old do you think I am?
Conscious of his earlier faux pas, I don't want to get it wrong. Also, it's hard to tell.
"twenty three to thirty four?" I hazard.
He continues.
I'm a grown up, yeah. I was really in love with her. I'm hurting, man.
I'm worried he's going to ask for a hug or something.
And I've got a proper job, yeah. I could look after her.
He looks at me.
I work in the City, yeah. Canary Wharf (convenient on the Jubilee line, I can't help thinking). I earn £28k yeah.
It's this detail, his salary, that's stuck with me most. I mean, English people, they don't really talk about money, and certainly not how much they earn. But this guys just proud of how well he's done.
I venture a question.
"When did all this happen?"
Three days ago. I can't go to work. I can't eat. That's why I'm sitting here. Today's the first day I've been out.
I want to offer him something. I see my bus coming.
"We've all been there. It really does get better. I'm so sorry." I smile at him: I've had a tiny, human insight into someone else's life. Kinda makes my sleepless nights seem less... of a problem.
He smiles.
Good luck, mate, with the baby, he says to me. Sorry 'bout what I said.
I got on the bus.
When I looked back, he'd gone.
But then it does take forever to get the buggy on the bus with one hand and get your pass out with your other hand, and hold on with your cashpoint hand and use your fourth hand to swipe your pass.
You've been up all night with your baby son for like six nights in a row, and it's starting to be so you can't tell the difference between night and day (in fact, Friday night I woke up at 4.30 am with phantom baby cries). Let's just say: you've looked better.
In an effort to have something of a normal life, you decide to meet a friend for coffee at Swiss Cottage. Swiss Cottage is one of those places that is too hard to park in (all roundabout, no pavement) and you have to go on the tube, but it's happened more than once that I've gone down to Kilburn tube with Zaphod in the buggy and then the lift is out of order and I've had to shlep him up like 50 steps to the platform, which with my residual pregnancy complication, frankly is no fun.
Which is how I found myself waiting at the C11 bus stop.
It's a sunny day, and I (relatively) jauntily walk up the the bus stop; there's a youngish guy there, smoking a roll-up.
"Yer just missed one," he tells me. The C11 is notorious for arriving only sporadically anyway. His look says "you might as well walk" but aforementioned postpartum yet residual pregnancy complication means walking to Swiss Cottage (which I would have thought nothing of a year ago) is totally out of the question.
I sit down. Could be a long wait.
I angle the buggy so Zaphod isn't in direct sunlight. He is wearing his cool Gap denim jacket (hand-me-down from S, actually the gift I bought her, rather greenily recycled) and his superhero t-shirt (father = comics geek) and his jeans with easy access press-studs (which kinda turn them into a skirt) and a stripey beanie (looks cool but stops him from scratching) although all apart from beanie are hidden by the ridiculous baby cocoon the buggy company don't tell you need to buy till you already bought the buggy and you're a first time mum and you've not got the hang of baby temperature control / layers etc.
Actually, in some respects, having a baby is rather like having a doll: lots of clothes changes, lots of cuddles, and even goes to the toilet (like April Showers - although she only peed).
The guy at the bus stop looks over at Zaphod.
"Cute kid. How old is she?"
"He's five months," I reply. It is kinda hard to decode gender with babies, but the denim getup should kinda give it away.
"You the grandma or the mother?" He asks.
!!!!
(and you know how much I hate exclamation marks).
Now I know I'm tired, and I don't have makeup on, and haven't lost the babyweight, but sheesh. I stay calm.
"Do I really look like a grandma?" I ask him.
He's embarrassed.
"I'm having a bad day, man," he says, drawing on his cigarette. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't even look at your face," he says, looking at my face. I'm not convinced he thinks I'm the mum even now.
He's got a few days' beard, and looks frankly like he could with a shower. He's asian, wearing jeans and a hoodie, and that large kippah that I don't know the name of, and got a faraway look in his eye and a lilt to his voice. His body language says he fee's bad about insulting me.
"See, I'm just having a bad day."
And I think mostly because he feels bad, or maybe because he just wants to talk, or possibly because I have a friendly face, he tells me his story.
I came here from Yemen seven years ago, left my family. I was just a teenager. And I met this girl, she's not a muslim, her family are Christian, she's from Poland. We lived together for six years. I really loved her. I mean, I lived with her, yeah, man. I didn't just hang out and visit and go home, I knew her. I loved her. And now she's gone, going back to her country.
He looks at me; I think he's going to cry.
And I gave everything for her. Broke off with my family in Yemen because she's not muslim. And - how old do you think I am?
Conscious of his earlier faux pas, I don't want to get it wrong. Also, it's hard to tell.
"twenty three to thirty four?" I hazard.
He continues.
I'm a grown up, yeah. I was really in love with her. I'm hurting, man.
I'm worried he's going to ask for a hug or something.
And I've got a proper job, yeah. I could look after her.
He looks at me.
I work in the City, yeah. Canary Wharf (convenient on the Jubilee line, I can't help thinking). I earn £28k yeah.
It's this detail, his salary, that's stuck with me most. I mean, English people, they don't really talk about money, and certainly not how much they earn. But this guys just proud of how well he's done.
I venture a question.
"When did all this happen?"
Three days ago. I can't go to work. I can't eat. That's why I'm sitting here. Today's the first day I've been out.
I want to offer him something. I see my bus coming.
"We've all been there. It really does get better. I'm so sorry." I smile at him: I've had a tiny, human insight into someone else's life. Kinda makes my sleepless nights seem less... of a problem.
He smiles.
Good luck, mate, with the baby, he says to me. Sorry 'bout what I said.
I got on the bus.
When I looked back, he'd gone.
But then it does take forever to get the buggy on the bus with one hand and get your pass out with your other hand, and hold on with your cashpoint hand and use your fourth hand to swipe your pass.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
CURRENT FACEBOOK STATUS
Sasha is up again with Zaphod - calpolled. Started weaning, and **still** up all night - but then, how much difference can a tenth of a teaspoon of carrot puree make?
FACEBOOK STATUS
I haven't been doing nothing... honest:
Sasha is up again. 3.30am. How many times does it have to be before it's a habit.... oooh, he's gone back to sleep while I'm typing this...
20 March at 10:32
Sasha is seriously considering weaning Zaphod. who knows if that means he'll stop partying in the middle of the night, but he *feels* older / ready...
20 March at 01:15
Sasha has been up for like ten days, now
19 March at 17:05
Sasha is tired
17 March at 04:53
Sasha On reflection, I think he does have a cold - after a small bottle, he's still sniffly and crying. So, not hungry. Sick? Did calpol, he seems to have settled.
13 March at 10:48
Sasha Well, Zaphod is up again. He's not hot (was the last times) or sniffly (ditto), just, well AWAKE. I have fed him, rather than given him calpol. Weaning?
13 March at 10:21
Sasha has cracked open the calpol, which appears to have totally knocked Zaphod out
12 March at 15:51
Sasha 's up again - can't tell if it's teething, or cold, or both :)
12 March at 11:03
Sasha 's been up four times in the night (with Zaphod)
11 March at 15:28
Sasha is considering making more jam (pear/ginger/chilli). it's about the only thing I can do on maternity leave, as it requires about 10 mins actual concentration
02 March at 18:03
Sasha is up again. 3.30am. How many times does it have to be before it's a habit.... oooh, he's gone back to sleep while I'm typing this...
20 March at 10:32
Sasha is seriously considering weaning Zaphod. who knows if that means he'll stop partying in the middle of the night, but he *feels* older / ready...
20 March at 01:15
Sasha has been up for like ten days, now
19 March at 17:05
Sasha is tired
17 March at 04:53
Sasha On reflection, I think he does have a cold - after a small bottle, he's still sniffly and crying. So, not hungry. Sick? Did calpol, he seems to have settled.
13 March at 10:48
Sasha Well, Zaphod is up again. He's not hot (was the last times) or sniffly (ditto), just, well AWAKE. I have fed him, rather than given him calpol. Weaning?
13 March at 10:21
Sasha has cracked open the calpol, which appears to have totally knocked Zaphod out
12 March at 15:51
Sasha 's up again - can't tell if it's teething, or cold, or both :)
12 March at 11:03
Sasha 's been up four times in the night (with Zaphod)
11 March at 15:28
Sasha is considering making more jam (pear/ginger/chilli). it's about the only thing I can do on maternity leave, as it requires about 10 mins actual concentration
02 March at 18:03
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Virgin Mobile appears to not exactly have great customer service
Yes, I'm back with the old customer service stories.
So I decided to buy a backup pay-as-you-go phone, as neither of us have phones we can totally rely on (and I hate my HTC Touch Diamond with a passion) and now we're Responsible Grown Ups it seems like the thing to do.
It took an age to find the Virgin Mobile PAYG Tariff and I wanted to know how long your minutes last (as in when do they expire) as we're probably not going to use it that often. So now I've been hung up on three times. Of course, they don't say they're going to hang up on you; they say that they need to put you through to some other department (which when you call back doesn't exist) and put you on hold and eventually you get the "the other person has cleared" message and you know they put in their call centre system that they solved your problem in less than the alloted three minutes or whatever it is, so they can get the extra payment but I can't even find out basic product information.
Something is very rotten in the state of call centres.
So I decided to buy a backup pay-as-you-go phone, as neither of us have phones we can totally rely on (and I hate my HTC Touch Diamond with a passion) and now we're Responsible Grown Ups it seems like the thing to do.
It took an age to find the Virgin Mobile PAYG Tariff and I wanted to know how long your minutes last (as in when do they expire) as we're probably not going to use it that often. So now I've been hung up on three times. Of course, they don't say they're going to hang up on you; they say that they need to put you through to some other department (which when you call back doesn't exist) and put you on hold and eventually you get the "the other person has cleared" message and you know they put in their call centre system that they solved your problem in less than the alloted three minutes or whatever it is, so they can get the extra payment but I can't even find out basic product information.
Something is very rotten in the state of call centres.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
middle eastern flatbreads
Thursday night, with the help of my able assistants (aka nephew and niece) I made a fabulous batch of middle eastern flatbreads, topped with za'atar. Based on a Jamie Oliver recipe, but kinda made my own, now.
Forgot to say, you can see the recipe here.
Forgot to say, you can see the recipe here.
carrot and ginger jam
I've been making a lot of jam recently (never let it be said I have too much time on my hands), most recent batch was carrot and ginger, to an old Mrs Beeton recipe, except with kiddush wine instead of brandy. Seems to have gone down well, so far.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Victor Keegan on new small businesses
I love Vic Keegan: he is smart and insightful and thoroughly charming in person. Loving today's piece on the flowering of micro-startups and entrepreneurial happenings in London. Of course, I'm on maternity leave :)
Monday, February 09, 2009
How smart are you?
Must be all the humous (or easy questions) - I got 20 out of 20 (and beleive me, it's quite some time since I did that well at anything) on the BBC's How smart are you? quiz.
All Hail The Smart Growth Manifesto
I've often wondered about growth - of the business kind - surely, I thought as a fresh-faced graduate tasked with acheiving x% growth each year (just for my bit of the business), eventually it'll all topple over? And how much more so for huge corporates and economies? I mean, isn't it a bit like a chain letter or just overeating? Umair Haque has put together the Smart Growth Manifesto which appears to be a little downturn-friendly.
Top 100 foods to improve your productivity |
The Guardian's got a cute little interactive diagram of the top 100 foods to improve your productivity - I should be way brainier given the amount of humous I eat.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
my kez recipe
So, the kez worked out fine. The big picture is the final product - kinda like cream cheese, but (a) less fat (I'm guessing, as I didn't use cream) and (b) it had more of a ... zing to it. The top pic is the start, the middle pic is pouring it into the muslin after it had gone yoghurty (about 24 hours) and the bottom pic is the kez tied into a muslin cloth draining in the fridge. Frankly, quite a lot of work, but then in the olden days, apparently, you couldn't buy philadelphia / cream cheese etc. Not sure I'd do it again apart from the dinner-party-conversation aspect. Or if I was on maternity leave.
As far as I know, no-one alive knows either of my grandmother's kez recipes, so through the wonder of the interweb, I have cobbled it together based on google-savvy, key words and guesswork. Also, my dad was pretty insistent about it being hung on the washing line to drain, but I feel like there are health and safety constraints to this. Or maybe she only made kez in the winter?
Anyway, here's the recipe:
Ingredients:
Just under 2 litres of whole milk (I was adivsed not to use skimmed or semi-skimmed)
60 ml buttermilk
Instructions:
1 Heat the milk in a heavy large saucepan over a low heat until lukewarm - About 90°F. to 100°F - you can also do this in the microwave
2 Pour the milk into large bowl, and stir in the buttermilk.
3 Cover with a kitchen towel, and leave to stand for about 24 hours at room temperature until the mixture has formed a soft curd, rather like yogurt.
4 Line a large colander with a clean muslin cloth (I bought mine in Lakeland) and set the colander in the sink. Pour the milk mixture into the lined colander, and let it drain for around 10 minutes.
5 Fold the cloth over the curd to cover it. I tied it losely by drawing opposite corners together and tying into a knot. Hang This over a wooden spoon and leave it in a deep bowl, so the muslin doesn't touch the base.
6 Refrigerate until a thicker cheese forms, draining off the liquid after 8 hours, about 24 hours.
7 Transfer the cheese to a small container. Cover and store in the fridge for up to 4 days (although mine got eaten a lot quicker than that).
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
West Wing thought: tuesday
I am so deeply entrenched in the West Wing (series five), that I can't help wondering if Simon Hochhauser, the The President of the United Synagogue, is also known as POTUS.
Monday, February 02, 2009
quite a lot of snow, for Kilburn
Everyone's talking about Snowday - we went out at the crack of dawn and just played with the wonder of it all.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Kez, stage one
I started my kez last night, and it looked like this... kinda milky, really. I've taken a sneak peak (remember peek freans?) and tonight, it's looking a little more solid. So it may have worked. More, later.
Reclaiming my Romanian heritage
As you probably know, way back (like turn of the last century) my great grandfather left Vaslui, just outside of Iasi, to make his way to the new world, aka Manchester.
I've been reclaiming my Romanian heritage, and given that mămăligă is the national dish of Romania (it's now Moldova, where my family came from), I've been making it for a while. The smetna/smatana is turning into a sourcing problem, and I often add mushrooms. I'm yet to find out what the English equivalent of brinza (cheese) is, but I suspect it's kinda feta-like.
Romanians, we're all about the dairy products. Hence my interest in kez (cheese).
I've been reclaiming my Romanian heritage, and given that mămăligă is the national dish of Romania (it's now Moldova, where my family came from), I've been making it for a while. The smetna/smatana is turning into a sourcing problem, and I often add mushrooms. I'm yet to find out what the English equivalent of brinza (cheese) is, but I suspect it's kinda feta-like.
Romanians, we're all about the dairy products. Hence my interest in kez (cheese).
Sad about John Martyn
I am listening to John Martyn's Solid Air album in tribute. I just read that he died aged 60, which, frankly, is sounding younger and younger. And he's one of the triumvirate of English folkies.
Cleanliness is next... milkiness?
So there's been a strange confluence of thought, here at Sashinka Towers.
Firstly, having a baby, and sterlising everything, and washing my hands in antibacterial soap like ten times a day has made me think about how clean is clean, and if dirt is good - turns out the New York Times (sashablog sashablog if you want to read it) have been reading my mind: A Little Dirt Is Good for You is a piece about whether our immune systems are being affected by not having the odd bit of dirt in our super-clean society.
Then, as you know, I've been thinking of recreating the kez (cheese) both my grandma's used to make from milk and buttermilk, and drain in a muslin cloth on the washing line.
To this end, last night I heated whole milk to 90 degrees, and added buttermilk, stirred and left it at room temperature. I know you're supposed to wait 24 hours before something happens, but I took a peek this morning, and it's still pretty.. well, milk like. My dad felt that because the milk is pasteurised, it won't work (which may be true), so I've been reading up on raw milk (aka fresh milk) - fascinating piece from the Guardian about raw milk and it's pros and cons.
Meanwhile, I may have to find some, as my kez is not doing what it's supposed to, methinks.
Firstly, having a baby, and sterlising everything, and washing my hands in antibacterial soap like ten times a day has made me think about how clean is clean, and if dirt is good - turns out the New York Times (sashablog sashablog if you want to read it) have been reading my mind: A Little Dirt Is Good for You is a piece about whether our immune systems are being affected by not having the odd bit of dirt in our super-clean society.
Then, as you know, I've been thinking of recreating the kez (cheese) both my grandma's used to make from milk and buttermilk, and drain in a muslin cloth on the washing line.
To this end, last night I heated whole milk to 90 degrees, and added buttermilk, stirred and left it at room temperature. I know you're supposed to wait 24 hours before something happens, but I took a peek this morning, and it's still pretty.. well, milk like. My dad felt that because the milk is pasteurised, it won't work (which may be true), so I've been reading up on raw milk (aka fresh milk) - fascinating piece from the Guardian about raw milk and it's pros and cons.
Meanwhile, I may have to find some, as my kez is not doing what it's supposed to, methinks.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Aubergine with coriander and tahina
Tonight, I made this, based on an Ottolenghi recipe.
It's quick and easy, which is always good.
For two people
1 small aubergine, brushed with olive oil
Dressing:
1/2 a mild red chilli, desseeded and cut into strips
A lot of coriander, finely chopped
2 cloves of crushed garlic
Olive oil
Lemon juice
salt and pepper
Tahina:
Tahina paste
Water
Lemon juice
Cut the aubergine into chunks, brush with olive oil
Put the chunks on a hot griddle pan for 2 minutes to get chargrill marks
Place chunks in roasting tray, season with salt and pepper
Put in 220 C / Gas mark 7 oven for 18 minutes
While it's in the oven, mix the dressing ingredients together
Make the tahina; mix with water and lemon juice
To serve: marinade the aubergine in the dressing, and when ready to serve, drizzle over the tahina. I served it on a bed of rocket, which was nice.
Whole thing takes 25 minutes. Delicious.
It's quick and easy, which is always good.
For two people
1 small aubergine, brushed with olive oil
Dressing:
1/2 a mild red chilli, desseeded and cut into strips
A lot of coriander, finely chopped
2 cloves of crushed garlic
Olive oil
Lemon juice
salt and pepper
Tahina:
Tahina paste
Water
Lemon juice
Cut the aubergine into chunks, brush with olive oil
Put the chunks on a hot griddle pan for 2 minutes to get chargrill marks
Place chunks in roasting tray, season with salt and pepper
Put in 220 C / Gas mark 7 oven for 18 minutes
While it's in the oven, mix the dressing ingredients together
Make the tahina; mix with water and lemon juice
To serve: marinade the aubergine in the dressing, and when ready to serve, drizzle over the tahina. I served it on a bed of rocket, which was nice.
Whole thing takes 25 minutes. Delicious.
Turn Your Old Mobile Phone Into Cash! - 23/01/2009
Once, a really long time ago, an ex-boyfriend looked round my flat aka technology graveyard, and said to me, "do you know about Ebay?"
Now I'm thinking of collecting up the myriad dead mobile phones in my posession and turning them into cold hard cash.
Now I'm thinking of collecting up the myriad dead mobile phones in my posession and turning them into cold hard cash.
Obama Staff Arrives to White House Stuck in Dark Ages of Technology - washingtonpost.com
Entertaining washingtonpost.com story about how Obama staff get to the White House expecting to be all Facebooked up and they're stuck in the dark ages of technology.
I've been living in a parallel universe, because - obviously - I watched the Obama inaugauration, but also managed to time my watching of series four of the West Wing to get Jed's second inaugauration to coincide - watched Barak at like 3pm and then Jed in the evening. Talk about overload. Except, Obama is Jed Bartlett, right?
I've been living in a parallel universe, because - obviously - I watched the Obama inaugauration, but also managed to time my watching of series four of the West Wing to get Jed's second inaugauration to coincide - watched Barak at like 3pm and then Jed in the evening. Talk about overload. Except, Obama is Jed Bartlett, right?
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Latest batch of banana and chocolate chip cake - consumed at our NCT class reunion - seeing ten or so babies all lined up on the sofa when last time we were all together they were on the inside was quite some experience.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Friday night dinner
When I was pregnant, I could hardly function, and certainly stopped cooking a few months in. So it's a real pleasure to jump back in the saddle.
Tonight I'm making (since I currently eat fish)
Humous with za’atar and pine kernels
Middle eastern flatbreads
* * *
Baked salmon with pesto crust
Couscous with cardamom, saffron and pomegranate
Green salad with French dressing
* * *
Poached pears with ginger and chilli
Romanian sultana cheesecake
I'll let you know how it goes. One of our guests has dropped in home-baked challah, so it's quite The Good Life here in Kilburn.
Tonight I'm making (since I currently eat fish)
Humous with za’atar and pine kernels
Middle eastern flatbreads
* * *
Baked salmon with pesto crust
Couscous with cardamom, saffron and pomegranate
Green salad with French dressing
* * *
Poached pears with ginger and chilli
Romanian sultana cheesecake
I'll let you know how it goes. One of our guests has dropped in home-baked challah, so it's quite The Good Life here in Kilburn.
New president, new template
Not really, but I'm still on an Obama-induced high, about how good the world is (can be) and everything.
So, totally unrelated, but my CTO (aka husband) has just done something I've been meaning to do for ages: blog-spring-clean.
So YACCS finally closed its doors, like a finally salary pension scheme, so my comments were buggered, and the templates was one I hacked together about five years ago, and didn't really have template titles, and I couldn't do half of what new Blogger did because I wasn't so XML etc.
So... voilà . A work in progress (WIP), and probably will change some (I imagine the blue turning lilac/purple at some point). But special thank to D who just knows what I need, and you, if you're still reading.
So, totally unrelated, but my CTO (aka husband) has just done something I've been meaning to do for ages: blog-spring-clean.
So YACCS finally closed its doors, like a finally salary pension scheme, so my comments were buggered, and the templates was one I hacked together about five years ago, and didn't really have template titles, and I couldn't do half of what new Blogger did because I wasn't so XML etc.
So... voilà . A work in progress (WIP), and probably will change some (I imagine the blue turning lilac/purple at some point). But special thank to D who just knows what I need, and you, if you're still reading.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Opleygn is nor gut for kez, ober nit far a khasene
(delay is good for cheese, but not for a wedding)
I don't really know why, but I had one of those random thoughts pop into my mind, which turned into a random link journey. It went something like this: I bought some celery in Lidl because it was cheap and also because I have my grandma's celery glass she used to use. Then, I was thinking about Quark, as a I have a great Romanian cheesecake recipe a friend's grandma gave me from the old country (which I was thinking of making because there are a lot of sultanas in my store cupboard). So I googled quark, and came across this recipe for what they call quark, but what sounds really like the kez (Yiddish for cheese) my grandma used to make and hang off the washing line. I personally don't remember this, but my dad told me. So I think the recipe is something like this one.
My dad things that now milk is pasteurised it might not work. I don't know enough science to know. So I have bought high-fat milk (which is not my custom) and buttermilk and I will keep you informed.
I don't really know why, but I had one of those random thoughts pop into my mind, which turned into a random link journey. It went something like this: I bought some celery in Lidl because it was cheap and also because I have my grandma's celery glass she used to use. Then, I was thinking about Quark, as a I have a great Romanian cheesecake recipe a friend's grandma gave me from the old country (which I was thinking of making because there are a lot of sultanas in my store cupboard). So I googled quark, and came across this recipe for what they call quark, but what sounds really like the kez (Yiddish for cheese) my grandma used to make and hang off the washing line. I personally don't remember this, but my dad told me. So I think the recipe is something like this one.
My dad things that now milk is pasteurised it might not work. I don't know enough science to know. So I have bought high-fat milk (which is not my custom) and buttermilk and I will keep you informed.
I have mixed feelings about Jonathan Ross (aka Wossy) twittering like an addict on crack cocaine, but I am loving his latest tweet:
Gotta go. Wife thinks I'm cheating on her with 13,933 people. G,night.
about 14 hours ago from web
Gotta go. Wife thinks I'm cheating on her with 13,933 people. G,night.
about 14 hours ago from web
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Holland and Barret, Golders Green
Thing is, you don't know when the 30 minutes started, he might have just left.
Friday, January 09, 2009
Sunday, December 21, 2008
I meant to say this ages ago, well, last week when Gordon Brown made that gaffe and said he was saving the world (not the banking system), he got it wrong. It's save the cheerleader, save the world, Gordon.
Happy Chanukah
Tonight (well, this afternoon) was the first night of Chanukah / Hanukkah - the festival of lights. Actually, a minor festival that got bigged up because, depending on how the calendar falls, is adjacent/overlapping with Christmas. And as well all know, christmas is a mega-yomtov (I know this because this year I received my first serious amounts of christmas presents. It truly is the season of giving, in a save-the-economy kind of way).
Zoe sent me a link to Songs in the Key of Hanukkah by Erran Baron Cohen (who is Ali G's brother, and must be mightily sick of his fifty-word bio anywhere always saying that.)
I've been into Erran's music for years - his former (?) band, Zohar, had two excellent albums, Elokeinu and Onethreeseven, and used to have a residency in a bar opposite the Roundhouse in Camden before it got refurbished and I was (almost) a proper groupie.
I'm slightly out of the loop - being on maternity leave - so I've jsut downloaded the album, and I'm loving it. I'm especially loving (a) the Dreidl Dreidl song, which is a kids' song I used to sing in cheder with Auntie Sheila and is now, like, real music, and (b) the guest artists, especially Y-Love, who I totally fell in love with at Limmudfest this summer (I was seven months pregnant, I suspect it was not reciprocal. Also, I'm married.)
Here's what I'm thinking. Being Jewish never used to be cool. Like, when I was a kid probably most of the people I knew quite fancied dressing up as chasidim, and doing crossover breakdancing / weird kazatska / Russian dance that Jewish people insist on doing at weddings, and taking kids songs, and funking them up and getting people to rap to them... and now you can.
Suddenly, we're an ethnic group, even though most of my childhood people (adults) said Jewish in the voice (whisper) you use for saying people have cancer. We could kinda pass as ... whatever we're supposed to passing for, and that was good. Now, we're almost as funky as some underground bhangra club. If only people in Stamford Hill who don't have TVs knew.
I lit the Chanukah candles for the first time with Zaphod. My son. Weird saying that.
I have not yet made latkes but I have been researching some good recipes. Sour cream and apple sauce are my preferred accompaniaments.
This is a brain dump of some of the stuff in my head right now.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
if girls say had a lovely time what should i say - Google Search
The combined wonders of stats tracking and google tells me I'm first on google for if girls say had a lovely time what should i say?
My answer (cynic): she's not interested, but polite.
My answer (believes in hope/love/open mindedness): she had a lovely time, she wants to see you again.
Yer takes yer pick. But believing the second makes you a lot happier, in the long run.
My answer (cynic): she's not interested, but polite.
My answer (believes in hope/love/open mindedness): she had a lovely time, she wants to see you again.
Yer takes yer pick. But believing the second makes you a lot happier, in the long run.
The Last Days of Decadence | Shoreditch, London
If I wasn't mostly staying home / sleeping, I'd definitely be checking out The Last Days of Decadence in Shoreditch, not least because I have more nine twenties clothes / Art Deco accoutrements than you can shake a stick at.
A friend said to me that "7pm doesn't even exist when you have children," so it may be that I don't even get to the theatre for like another fifteen years. I hope not.
A friend said to me that "7pm doesn't even exist when you have children," so it may be that I don't even get to the theatre for like another fifteen years. I hope not.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Cold callers? Crank callers...
I just got a phone call on my mobile from 01792 350023 and when I picked up some blokey clearly reading from a script said "I'm from CCA, consumer credit advice, and I want you to know this isn't a sales call."
Except it is. And the script is way bad. And the blokey was a does-not-meet (in the language of some consulting firms performance appraisal), and when I asked for their website address, he gave me this , and he answered everything I asked with "oh, so you don't have any debt?"
Call centres are the modern equivalent of working down the coal mines. Except the output is annoyance, rather than energy.
Except it is. And the script is way bad. And the blokey was a does-not-meet (in the language of some consulting firms performance appraisal), and when I asked for their website address, he gave me this , and he answered everything I asked with "oh, so you don't have any debt?"
Call centres are the modern equivalent of working down the coal mines. Except the output is annoyance, rather than energy.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Expedition: Brent Cross
Many new mums have told me that they spent their fourth trimester in Brent Cross - especially if it was winter, as it's guaranteed to be warm.
Aside: Brent Cross is the Westfield of North West London
And look - Westfield have done some rather interesting paid search - google on Brent Cross and you get Westfield - like you live in Hendon but you'd google and go to Shepherds Bush? I think not.
So I decided to take Zaphod to Brent Cross, specifically John Lewis and Mothercare because (a) I had something to take back to John Lewis, (b) I'd heard tell of their mother and baby room, and (c) Mothercare is about as much sophistication as I can handle, right now.
First, parking is a pain. No space, apart from a disabled one, is wide enough to let me open the passenger door far enough to get into the back seat and extract Zaphod's Maxi-Cosi-fan-Tutte car seat from its clip-in seat base. So if you parked next to me and have an imperceptible dent in your drivers' side door, sorry, don't park next to me again.
Second, it's not that easy to (1) extract the child, (2) leave the child in the car seat on the wet tarmac while you get all the other kit, (3) remember the changing bag, (4) get the pram out of the boot, (5) open the pram with a deft foot movement which is nothing at all as easy as the annoying woman on the Bugaboo DVD makes it look, (6) add the adaptors to the car seat so they fit on the pram, (7) do it all quite quickly. And if it's raining, there's like 14 other things to remember/do.
Third, people - The Public - are annoying. So after all the stress of getting out of the car, Zaphod was a little unrelaxed, as was I, and people give you dirty looks if your baby's crying and one women - a stranger - even came up to me and put his dummy in his mouth before I'd even had a chance to say to her "excuse me, who are you, and when did you last wash your hands".
Before I'd even done any shopping/unshopping, Zaphod was hungry, and I thought cool, I'll go to the parent/feeding/changing room in John Lewis and we can breastfeed there. Breastfeeding in public, I still find a little tricky and I thought this would be perfect. The room is the size of my dead-small ensuite bathroom. It has three chairs and two changing tables and is next door to all the loos (there is a parent with child toilet, which is great, because I queued for ages in the child-free women's toilet only to discover the buggy doesn't fit in).
But once I'd got into the parent room and squahsed the buggy in, and taken my coat off and balanced him on my lap and unhooked my bazookas, it just wasn't that easy, and I tried and tried and just got really stressed. After a short while, I gave him a bottle (we're mixed feeding) but I don't know what the answer is, because if it means he doesn't get breast milk every time we go out, then I feel like we shouldn't really go out.
Aaaargh.
The parent room had about six buggies in it and loads of mums and it was a bit like that puzzle where you have to move the letters around but each time you move one letter, it affects all the others; I needed to change his nappy, and it required three other women to reverse out.
By now, two hours was up, and we hadn't actually done anything.
Coming out of the parent room, people got annoyed with me because I couldn't manouvere fast/well enough and I ended up sitting in the sofa department in tears with Zaphod crying/shouting and feeling like, sheesh, is this what it'll be like for the rest of my life?
Clearly not. After a certain age, and certainly for adults, you don't have to wear a full-lenght snow suit to go out, and you definitely don't have to lie on your back to put it on. Although I got pretty close when I was pregnant. Weebles wobble but they don't fall down. Apart from in my case.
Next - will I ever be able to exercise again?
Aside: Brent Cross is the Westfield of North West London
And look - Westfield have done some rather interesting paid search - google on Brent Cross and you get Westfield - like you live in Hendon but you'd google and go to Shepherds Bush? I think not.
So I decided to take Zaphod to Brent Cross, specifically John Lewis and Mothercare because (a) I had something to take back to John Lewis, (b) I'd heard tell of their mother and baby room, and (c) Mothercare is about as much sophistication as I can handle, right now.
First, parking is a pain. No space, apart from a disabled one, is wide enough to let me open the passenger door far enough to get into the back seat and extract Zaphod's Maxi-Cosi-fan-Tutte car seat from its clip-in seat base. So if you parked next to me and have an imperceptible dent in your drivers' side door, sorry, don't park next to me again.
Second, it's not that easy to (1) extract the child, (2) leave the child in the car seat on the wet tarmac while you get all the other kit, (3) remember the changing bag, (4) get the pram out of the boot, (5) open the pram with a deft foot movement which is nothing at all as easy as the annoying woman on the Bugaboo DVD makes it look, (6) add the adaptors to the car seat so they fit on the pram, (7) do it all quite quickly. And if it's raining, there's like 14 other things to remember/do.
Third, people - The Public - are annoying. So after all the stress of getting out of the car, Zaphod was a little unrelaxed, as was I, and people give you dirty looks if your baby's crying and one women - a stranger - even came up to me and put his dummy in his mouth before I'd even had a chance to say to her "excuse me, who are you, and when did you last wash your hands".
Before I'd even done any shopping/unshopping, Zaphod was hungry, and I thought cool, I'll go to the parent/feeding/changing room in John Lewis and we can breastfeed there. Breastfeeding in public, I still find a little tricky and I thought this would be perfect. The room is the size of my dead-small ensuite bathroom. It has three chairs and two changing tables and is next door to all the loos (there is a parent with child toilet, which is great, because I queued for ages in the child-free women's toilet only to discover the buggy doesn't fit in).
But once I'd got into the parent room and squahsed the buggy in, and taken my coat off and balanced him on my lap and unhooked my bazookas, it just wasn't that easy, and I tried and tried and just got really stressed. After a short while, I gave him a bottle (we're mixed feeding) but I don't know what the answer is, because if it means he doesn't get breast milk every time we go out, then I feel like we shouldn't really go out.
Aaaargh.
The parent room had about six buggies in it and loads of mums and it was a bit like that puzzle where you have to move the letters around but each time you move one letter, it affects all the others; I needed to change his nappy, and it required three other women to reverse out.
By now, two hours was up, and we hadn't actually done anything.
Coming out of the parent room, people got annoyed with me because I couldn't manouvere fast/well enough and I ended up sitting in the sofa department in tears with Zaphod crying/shouting and feeling like, sheesh, is this what it'll be like for the rest of my life?
Clearly not. After a certain age, and certainly for adults, you don't have to wear a full-lenght snow suit to go out, and you definitely don't have to lie on your back to put it on. Although I got pretty close when I was pregnant. Weebles wobble but they don't fall down. Apart from in my case.
Next - will I ever be able to exercise again?
Sunday, December 07, 2008
What do people (women) do on maternity leave?
People - some people - have asked me this. Like one friend said to me, basically, what do you do all day?
First of all, I should say, that being at home is not quite the party I led you to believe last week. It's nice. It's lovely. It's easier than running a business, but there's a relentlessness to the responsibility that is quite overwhelming, sometimes. Like, some days, when D comes home, I just give him Zaphod and go and have a rest and beleive me I was never the kind of woman who needed a lie-down during the day. Conversely, I often used to operate in two competing time-zones simultaneously (Asia and the US) and could survive on little sleep for sure, but it was different.
Back to what Zaphod and I do.
We have spent a lot of quality time with the PVR. I am in Season Three of the West Wing, have The Wire waiting for me, and have watched all flavours of CSI and NCIS multiple times. I've also been catching up on girl-flicks: this week, A Boyfriend for Christmas, Mean Girls and Legally Blonde 2. Next week, geek-girl flicks, including The Net.
Aside: you know at the end of Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan breaks up the plastic crown to share it because she's seen the light of goodness? Well, she throws out more crown than there actually is. The continuity people were not on top of this.
Also, I've got back to cooking. This is good because in the last three months of my pregancny I basically stopped functioning, apart from for work. I couldn't walk (annoying pregnancy complication called SPD (I dare you not to click that link if you're a woman - it's really better not to know. You'd still like to have kids, right? Don't ask people about their birth experiences, and don't ask about complications), and I was in a bad mood, and I couldn't go upstairs, even. People don't know, because for work I just had to carry on, but I was living on pain killers and the kindness of friends (Z and J) who filled our freezer with home cooked goodies as I couldn't even make a piece of toast. Now, I've made chilli and banana cake, the inaugural humous (due the talent of my in-house Natural Search Director, I'm now number two on the whole internet for humous, whodathunkit), and next week I might try and make curry.
When you have a baby everything takes longer. So we can't really do more than one "thing" a day - today we went to visit a sick friend.
Mostly what I do is: change nappies. Feed. Burp. Feed. Change Nappies. Play with Zahpod. Cuddles. Change nappies. Washing (there is a lot more washing than you can frankly ever imagine). If there's time, I play on the interweb, including doing our Tesco order. Half-read a paper/book/article.
Sunday morning: I wrote this on Friday, and it never got finished, which is the story of my life right now. One friend said to me "you'll never have more quarter-drunk cups of tea in your whole life".
Or half-written blog posts.
People - some people - have asked me this. Like one friend said to me, basically, what do you do all day?
First of all, I should say, that being at home is not quite the party I led you to believe last week. It's nice. It's lovely. It's easier than running a business, but there's a relentlessness to the responsibility that is quite overwhelming, sometimes. Like, some days, when D comes home, I just give him Zaphod and go and have a rest and beleive me I was never the kind of woman who needed a lie-down during the day. Conversely, I often used to operate in two competing time-zones simultaneously (Asia and the US) and could survive on little sleep for sure, but it was different.
Back to what Zaphod and I do.
We have spent a lot of quality time with the PVR. I am in Season Three of the West Wing, have The Wire waiting for me, and have watched all flavours of CSI and NCIS multiple times. I've also been catching up on girl-flicks: this week, A Boyfriend for Christmas, Mean Girls and Legally Blonde 2. Next week, geek-girl flicks, including The Net.
Aside: you know at the end of Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan breaks up the plastic crown to share it because she's seen the light of goodness? Well, she throws out more crown than there actually is. The continuity people were not on top of this.
Also, I've got back to cooking. This is good because in the last three months of my pregancny I basically stopped functioning, apart from for work. I couldn't walk (annoying pregnancy complication called SPD (I dare you not to click that link if you're a woman - it's really better not to know. You'd still like to have kids, right? Don't ask people about their birth experiences, and don't ask about complications), and I was in a bad mood, and I couldn't go upstairs, even. People don't know, because for work I just had to carry on, but I was living on pain killers and the kindness of friends (Z and J) who filled our freezer with home cooked goodies as I couldn't even make a piece of toast. Now, I've made chilli and banana cake, the inaugural humous (due the talent of my in-house Natural Search Director, I'm now number two on the whole internet for humous, whodathunkit), and next week I might try and make curry.
When you have a baby everything takes longer. So we can't really do more than one "thing" a day - today we went to visit a sick friend.
Mostly what I do is: change nappies. Feed. Burp. Feed. Change Nappies. Play with Zahpod. Cuddles. Change nappies. Washing (there is a lot more washing than you can frankly ever imagine). If there's time, I play on the interweb, including doing our Tesco order. Half-read a paper/book/article.
Sunday morning: I wrote this on Friday, and it never got finished, which is the story of my life right now. One friend said to me "you'll never have more quarter-drunk cups of tea in your whole life".
Or half-written blog posts.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Type when the baby sleeps
A lot of people say "sleep when the baby sleeps" and obviously this makes sense because Zaphod - while he does sleep for maybe 16 hours a day - needs a lot of attention when he's awake, so the time for me to nap is clearly when he's sleeping.
Motherhood is quite lovely, and not necessarily sleeplessly tiring (so far) just a bit of a full-on job when it comes to 24-7. I had a long chat with a friend tonight who was telling me that with her first baby she was overcome by the change in her life, and what to do, and what it meant and what she would do next.
I feel a little of that, but mostly I feel like, how great is it to not have 400 emails a day and voicemail and text messages and three different phoneslines 120 people can try and reach you on. My office phone is unplugged (with a message to email my assistant). Hardly anyone calls my home phone and that's ok (people seem to think I'm so delicate they should text D (husband) rather than communicate with me, and I don't mind that. This morning I listened to the fives messages on my mobile phone and they'd been there since Monday and it didn't matter. Five in a week - I used to have like ten in a day.
Perhaps I will turn into that famous rockstar who could only be reached by faxing his mother.
Basically - and so far - looking after Zaphod is a complete holiday compared to working, only with extra crying. And lovely cuddles.
And suddenly, I feel like I have a lot to say. Surely most of it will have been said before - but perhaps not with my unique wit and individual take on the universe/NW6 - but like the best books, I guess I'm writing for one (me). Although I won't mind at all if you enjoy it.
So now, I'm typing when the baby sleeps.
A lot of people say "sleep when the baby sleeps" and obviously this makes sense because Zaphod - while he does sleep for maybe 16 hours a day - needs a lot of attention when he's awake, so the time for me to nap is clearly when he's sleeping.
Motherhood is quite lovely, and not necessarily sleeplessly tiring (so far) just a bit of a full-on job when it comes to 24-7. I had a long chat with a friend tonight who was telling me that with her first baby she was overcome by the change in her life, and what to do, and what it meant and what she would do next.
I feel a little of that, but mostly I feel like, how great is it to not have 400 emails a day and voicemail and text messages and three different phoneslines 120 people can try and reach you on. My office phone is unplugged (with a message to email my assistant). Hardly anyone calls my home phone and that's ok (people seem to think I'm so delicate they should text D (husband) rather than communicate with me, and I don't mind that. This morning I listened to the fives messages on my mobile phone and they'd been there since Monday and it didn't matter. Five in a week - I used to have like ten in a day.
Perhaps I will turn into that famous rockstar who could only be reached by faxing his mother.
Basically - and so far - looking after Zaphod is a complete holiday compared to working, only with extra crying. And lovely cuddles.
And suddenly, I feel like I have a lot to say. Surely most of it will have been said before - but perhaps not with my unique wit and individual take on the universe/NW6 - but like the best books, I guess I'm writing for one (me). Although I won't mind at all if you enjoy it.
So now, I'm typing when the baby sleeps.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
So, Monday I went to see Malcolm Gladwell. This isn't my movie (although I have an equally poor one of the balagan of getting 2000 people into the Lyceum, but hey what's the point of the internet if we can't all share?), but let's just say Malcolm was disappointing.
First, as you know, I'm 5 weeks post-partum, so it could be hormones. But I went with A, who's children are much more grown-up and he was disappointed, too. Apart from the huge effort a (new) parent has to make to go out (D came home early to look after Zaphod, my whole day was out of sync, I never had time to eat etc), I quite enjoyed going on the tube and thinking I don't have to look after Zaphod for a coupla hours. I don't think this makes me a bad mother, it was just an interesting experience. I think I enjoy my freedom more now I don't really have it, but hey, hindsight's a wonderful thing.
The audience was People Like Us. The only people who didn't have crackberries had Moleskin notebooks (we had one on either side of us) and everyone looked like they were in some urban, intellectual tribe.
Malcolm kept us waiting 30 minutes. It was supposed to be a 90 minute show at 1745 (with another at 2000), and I'm guessing that he was late, although the announcements said there were problems getting people into the theatre. The Lyceum, ferchrissakes, I mean, they do the Lion King twice nightly, they should know from audiences. Clearly Malcolm was delayed, and it was incredibly disappointing that he cut the show short by 30 minutes, just kinda ending mid-flow with "thank you and goodnight".
Maybe you should never meet your heroes. He didn't really maximise the opportunity - it was just a chapter from his new book (which he exhorted us to buy, and I did), and while it was lovely to see him live, he looks quite like he does on YouTube and there was no Q&A and I was left thinking... you just did it for the money/marketing, right?
Perchance I have increased expectations now going out is so much bigger a deal.
Malcolm, next time you should come over to my house.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
I'd like to say I read loads of books before Zaphod arrived, preparing myself for parenthood, but for whatever reason, I couldn't think past the "come into hospital now" moment.
However, I would have liked to read (an extremely short) book that said:
get your washing machine serviced: you'll do more washing than you ever imagined
stock your freezer with healthy food, otherwise you'll really only have time to eat junk
line up all the DVDs you want to watch while you're feeding baby, it'll be a lot of time
be prepared to think that going to the post office with Zaphod is like a whole big deal: everything will take longer, lower your expectations
take your nipple cream into hospital with you
stock up on Oliva soap, which is great for getting baby-shit out of your baby's clothes
practice a lot using your pram/buggy before the baby arrives: you need to practice and also, the buggy needs to practice being not so stiff
buy your changing bag before the baby arrives
take dried apricots with you to hospital - they help with the post-partum constipation (apparently...) (I like the M&S ones)
be prepared to be totally amazed and overwhelmed by how incredible your personal baby is
... more, I'm sure....
However, I would have liked to read (an extremely short) book that said:
... more, I'm sure....
Sunday, November 23, 2008
A lovely friend did artwork for our "Zaphod's arrived" cards, which double as the "thank you for nice gift to Zaphod" cards, and they've been sitting on our dining room table for three weeks.
So, even though I think no-one actually reads my blog anymore, if you do, and you sent a gift, we'll write to you and say thank you properly. One day.
You can take the Girl out of Cheadle, but you can never...
Lovelynotes are extremely important.
So, even though I think no-one actually reads my blog anymore, if you do, and you sent a gift, we'll write to you and say thank you properly. One day.
You can take the Girl out of Cheadle, but you can never...
Lovelynotes are extremely important.
Here's a phrase I'd never given any thought to five weeks ago: "self-soothing."
I know that new babies don't always sleep, but I didn't realise that I was supposed to read like a hundred books about sleep-training and sleep habits and be able to discuss it knowledgably with other parents.
Also, there are some people who say "why are you whispering?" And I say, because Zaphod's sleeping (say, if I just went into his room to get something) and they say "do you expect to the whole world to stop because your baby's sleeping?" Well, no. THere'll still be police sirens and drunks on Kilburn High Road, but inside our house we can try and pretend it's night.
Once, I was friendly with this woman who (a) only wore her extremely long hair over one shoulder, hanging down over (I think) her right boob, and (b) she could properly sleep anywhere. It was like a party trick: she would sleep on top of someone else in a really loud room and be really really asleep.
I know that new babies don't always sleep, but I didn't realise that I was supposed to read like a hundred books about sleep-training and sleep habits and be able to discuss it knowledgably with other parents.
Also, there are some people who say "why are you whispering?" And I say, because Zaphod's sleeping (say, if I just went into his room to get something) and they say "do you expect to the whole world to stop because your baby's sleeping?" Well, no. THere'll still be police sirens and drunks on Kilburn High Road, but inside our house we can try and pretend it's night.
Once, I was friendly with this woman who (a) only wore her extremely long hair over one shoulder, hanging down over (I think) her right boob, and (b) she could properly sleep anywhere. It was like a party trick: she would sleep on top of someone else in a really loud room and be really really asleep.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Here's a thing about having a baby that's very annoying.
Everyone seems to have an opinion. My cleaner? Thinks I should only take Zaphod out with a nappy over his face (I think she means muslin - apparently it's a continental European thing). XXX thinks I should seek out cranial osteopathy for Z now: best to start young. Some believe in dummies, some not. Some only believe in breast feeding.
And also, because I was (a) quite busy before Zaphod arrived, and (b) like many first time mothers, couldn't actually think past the bit where you call up in labour and the midwife says "you're six centimetres dilated, best to come in now (although with a planned c-section, they're more likely to say how's a week Tuesday) - I hadn't thought any about what I would do once Zaphod arrived.
I'd spent all my time planning The Labour and packing The Bag, and D and I had gone to NCT classes, and practiced our massage techniques (which is never a bad thing) and worked out exactly what kind of whale music we wanted as the soundtrack to Zaphod's birth (kidding), and I'd even planned to bake in the early stages of labour (not kidding), I guess because I thought it signified that I'm some kind of wholesome earth mother and also because I had some bananas rotting in the fruit bowl because I'd almost entirely gone off food.
Here are the things I didn't think about at all:
There's some x-rated stuff, also, which I want to check with D before I type (he's sleeping right now, as he's doing the 3am). How's that for making you want to come back and read more...
Never have I been so ill-prepared for any project in my life. I mean, I'd done all the administrative stuff: kitted out the room, and begged-borrowed-stolen all the right equipment. In fact, my nesting (let me say that I can't currently find a good link to nesting that isn't some kind of SEO / PR tool regurgitated the same-old same-old) took the form of obsessive filing and tidying of my office. I kid you not when I tell you that I actually sent a photo of my paper filing system to some colleagues so they could find everything if I lost my marbles.
But I hadn't read a book about being a mum. I hadn't even read past the labour chapters in the birth and first-years books. In fact, I hadn't read a lot of books, even though loads of people lent us great ones, because I had data overload and too much email. And I certainly didn't have the mental space to think about what kind of parent I was going to be.
Er, point is, er, I've forgotten. Ah yes: other people have strong views. You're letting him stay up? (Like at 4.3 weeks it makes a difference?) Or taking him out with you? Or letting him cry/not cry?
These things are very personal. Once, a long long time ago, a relationship I was in ended badly/sadly and what I realised was, everyone who asked me how I was doing, wanted to know "who's fault" it was, who had "done the deed", and the advice they gave me, on reflection, was always a way of validating their choices. Like one friend, who'd been with her partner for 25 years, but had never had kids (his choice) told me very clearly to get back to together with X and have make-up sex so I could have a baby.
So people aren't always so bothered about you. Or your situation. What they're saying when they tell you what they think, is: isn't what I think right? Just do what I do and everything will be ok for me.
And that can be very annoying.
Everyone seems to have an opinion. My cleaner? Thinks I should only take Zaphod out with a nappy over his face (I think she means muslin - apparently it's a continental European thing). XXX thinks I should seek out cranial osteopathy for Z now: best to start young. Some believe in dummies, some not. Some only believe in breast feeding.
And also, because I was (a) quite busy before Zaphod arrived, and (b) like many first time mothers, couldn't actually think past the bit where you call up in labour and the midwife says "you're six centimetres dilated, best to come in now (although with a planned c-section, they're more likely to say how's a week Tuesday) - I hadn't thought any about what I would do once Zaphod arrived.
I'd spent all my time planning The Labour and packing The Bag, and D and I had gone to NCT classes, and practiced our massage techniques (which is never a bad thing) and worked out exactly what kind of whale music we wanted as the soundtrack to Zaphod's birth (kidding), and I'd even planned to bake in the early stages of labour (not kidding), I guess because I thought it signified that I'm some kind of wholesome earth mother and also because I had some bananas rotting in the fruit bowl because I'd almost entirely gone off food.
Here are the things I didn't think about at all:
- routine or feed on demand?
- breast or formula (I mean, I wanted to breast feed, but I hadn't actually thought about it. Turns out it's not as easy as everyone says
- dummies
- how does the damn buggy work?
- when will I was my hair?
- how did I ever fit all that other stuff in?
There's some x-rated stuff, also, which I want to check with D before I type (he's sleeping right now, as he's doing the 3am). How's that for making you want to come back and read more...
Never have I been so ill-prepared for any project in my life. I mean, I'd done all the administrative stuff: kitted out the room, and begged-borrowed-stolen all the right equipment. In fact, my nesting (let me say that I can't currently find a good link to nesting that isn't some kind of SEO / PR tool regurgitated the same-old same-old) took the form of obsessive filing and tidying of my office. I kid you not when I tell you that I actually sent a photo of my paper filing system to some colleagues so they could find everything if I lost my marbles.
But I hadn't read a book about being a mum. I hadn't even read past the labour chapters in the birth and first-years books. In fact, I hadn't read a lot of books, even though loads of people lent us great ones, because I had data overload and too much email. And I certainly didn't have the mental space to think about what kind of parent I was going to be.
Er, point is, er, I've forgotten. Ah yes: other people have strong views. You're letting him stay up? (Like at 4.3 weeks it makes a difference?) Or taking him out with you? Or letting him cry/not cry?
These things are very personal. Once, a long long time ago, a relationship I was in ended badly/sadly and what I realised was, everyone who asked me how I was doing, wanted to know "who's fault" it was, who had "done the deed", and the advice they gave me, on reflection, was always a way of validating their choices. Like one friend, who'd been with her partner for 25 years, but had never had kids (his choice) told me very clearly to get back to together with X and have make-up sex so I could have a baby.
So people aren't always so bothered about you. Or your situation. What they're saying when they tell you what they think, is: isn't what I think right? Just do what I do and everything will be ok for me.
And that can be very annoying.
Also, while I'm back, I should say one thank-you.
D has been very worried that he killed my blog because I've hardly written anything since we got married. Not his fault, really.
So he's been gently encouraging me... finding a blog-this icon on my toolbar. Telling me that funny stories I say are so-bloggable. And, this morning, going to my PC to check the weather and finding blogger open to my account with that inviting white-space "create post" box. Waiting for me.
Thank you D. For being the most understanding husband I've ever had. For getting me, and all my mishegassen. For being funny and lovely and helping make us into a family.
And, never forgetting, all the hours of unpaid technical support. Once, I even got a text message that said "your support ticket is now closed. Thanks for choosing us."
D has been very worried that he killed my blog because I've hardly written anything since we got married. Not his fault, really.
So he's been gently encouraging me... finding a blog-this icon on my toolbar. Telling me that funny stories I say are so-bloggable. And, this morning, going to my PC to check the weather and finding blogger open to my account with that inviting white-space "create post" box. Waiting for me.
Thank you D. For being the most understanding husband I've ever had. For getting me, and all my mishegassen. For being funny and lovely and helping make us into a family.
And, never forgetting, all the hours of unpaid technical support. Once, I even got a text message that said "your support ticket is now closed. Thanks for choosing us."
Sleep when the baby sleeps
So I've had a lovely week while D (husband/boyfriend/partner/in-house-technical-support) and Zaphod (not his real name, but hey this is the internet, we'd like him to have the possibility of some online privacy at sone point in the future) and I have been "being a family".
This mostly includes eating. Sleeping. Farting. Crying. Making us very happy. Oh, and Costbux.
This mostly includes eating. Sleeping. Farting. Crying. Making us very happy. Oh, and Costbux.
I'm back, for real.
I know I say this periodically. But I really am.
The last few months have been.. mammoth. Aside from running my business (with my great team), and having a very annoying pregnany complication which meant I couldn't really walk, or could only walk in quite a lot of pain, and getting everything ready for The Baby (who turned into Zaphod) and having a lot of fun and games with my show at 36 weeks... let's just say, I didn't have a huge amount of spare bandwidth.
The strength of a blog, the thing that I think draws you in, is someone talking about their experiences (I realise this is not all blogs, but the kind I mostly like to read), and I remember when I first started blogging, there was a great.. Dutch I think blog that I used to read all the time. She was smart, funny, sassy (takes one...) and then suddenly she had a baby and the blog was all about nappies and sleep and suchlike and I didn't understand.
Like, a few months ago, a friend had a baby, and made this big palaver about coming over to visit me (I was already pregnant and not that mobile) and she was all, how wide is the gap at the side of your house? Will it fit the buggy? Where can I park? And I was all (not to her, obviously) get over it girlfriend. ALthough not exactly like that because I'm not from the Bronx. But I was thinking, what's the big deal, you're a smart resourceful person. Deal with it.
So am I (generally) and now I know exactly how she felt. So I've started a couple of companies, run big divisions of Plcs, travelled all over the world, negotiated deals with the toughest... and all of a sudden, I'm thinking, how will I get to Kilburn on the bus?
It's like a whole new life. And for Zaphod, it is. And for me and D it is, but on top of our old life. Less so for D - he has all the excitement/drama of parenthood, but gets to go to work in his old life, too. He just has to fit it all in, that's his challenge.
My challenge is that my old life is - temporarily at least - on hold. I'm not so much about email and phone calls and doing business and talking to customers. I know this because I got my Blackberry out of my bag yesterday because I was out and needed to get someone's phone number, and it had RUN OUT OF BATTERY. That has never happened to me. Before, my crackberry was my lifeline - incidentally, Jonny Freedland wrote a cute piece Tuesday about Barak and his - and I left it uncharged at my peril. Even on my honeymoon, I did check a few times because we were closing some deals and it didn't make sense to be out of reach.
Now I'm out of reach in oh-so-many-ways. First, because I had to have a c-section, I can't drive for another two weeks and my world is really small. It's kinda like the 1950s - I ask D to pick things up on his way home, and if I need to go anywhere, he has to drive.
I mean, I still have the same serious taxi habit I had throughout the pregnancy. Basically, the only way I could get around was door-to-door cabs, so my local taxi firm became my preferred provider and frankly I saw them more often than I saw my family. I think I must be their biggest customer, because even when there were bus strikes and crazy-taxi-needs, they always looked after me. In fact, I was thinking of getting them a seasonal gift, as they've been so nice, and chatting with one of their drivers Wednesday, asking about how religious they all were, he confirmed that "they don't really drink whisky". It might have to be a banana bread, then. Imagine the irony: a Jewish customer bringing a Muslim taxi company owner a banana cake for un-xmas. This is the same driver who told me that children are a gift from Allah.
Anyway, must go to Brent Cross. The joys of motherhood. Back, later.
I know I say this periodically. But I really am.
The last few months have been.. mammoth. Aside from running my business (with my great team), and having a very annoying pregnany complication which meant I couldn't really walk, or could only walk in quite a lot of pain, and getting everything ready for The Baby (who turned into Zaphod) and having a lot of fun and games with my show at 36 weeks... let's just say, I didn't have a huge amount of spare bandwidth.
The strength of a blog, the thing that I think draws you in, is someone talking about their experiences (I realise this is not all blogs, but the kind I mostly like to read), and I remember when I first started blogging, there was a great.. Dutch I think blog that I used to read all the time. She was smart, funny, sassy (takes one...) and then suddenly she had a baby and the blog was all about nappies and sleep and suchlike and I didn't understand.
Like, a few months ago, a friend had a baby, and made this big palaver about coming over to visit me (I was already pregnant and not that mobile) and she was all, how wide is the gap at the side of your house? Will it fit the buggy? Where can I park? And I was all (not to her, obviously) get over it girlfriend. ALthough not exactly like that because I'm not from the Bronx. But I was thinking, what's the big deal, you're a smart resourceful person. Deal with it.
So am I (generally) and now I know exactly how she felt. So I've started a couple of companies, run big divisions of Plcs, travelled all over the world, negotiated deals with the toughest... and all of a sudden, I'm thinking, how will I get to Kilburn on the bus?
It's like a whole new life. And for Zaphod, it is. And for me and D it is, but on top of our old life. Less so for D - he has all the excitement/drama of parenthood, but gets to go to work in his old life, too. He just has to fit it all in, that's his challenge.
My challenge is that my old life is - temporarily at least - on hold. I'm not so much about email and phone calls and doing business and talking to customers. I know this because I got my Blackberry out of my bag yesterday because I was out and needed to get someone's phone number, and it had RUN OUT OF BATTERY. That has never happened to me. Before, my crackberry was my lifeline - incidentally, Jonny Freedland wrote a cute piece Tuesday about Barak and his - and I left it uncharged at my peril. Even on my honeymoon, I did check a few times because we were closing some deals and it didn't make sense to be out of reach.
Now I'm out of reach in oh-so-many-ways. First, because I had to have a c-section, I can't drive for another two weeks and my world is really small. It's kinda like the 1950s - I ask D to pick things up on his way home, and if I need to go anywhere, he has to drive.
I mean, I still have the same serious taxi habit I had throughout the pregnancy. Basically, the only way I could get around was door-to-door cabs, so my local taxi firm became my preferred provider and frankly I saw them more often than I saw my family. I think I must be their biggest customer, because even when there were bus strikes and crazy-taxi-needs, they always looked after me. In fact, I was thinking of getting them a seasonal gift, as they've been so nice, and chatting with one of their drivers Wednesday, asking about how religious they all were, he confirmed that "they don't really drink whisky". It might have to be a banana bread, then. Imagine the irony: a Jewish customer bringing a Muslim taxi company owner a banana cake for un-xmas. This is the same driver who told me that children are a gift from Allah.
Anyway, must go to Brent Cross. The joys of motherhood. Back, later.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Young make 'great schlep' to persuade a sceptical generation to vote Barack Obama | World news | The Guardian
So I'm not the only person who's kinda fascinated by the Great Schlep going on in the USA - where all the left-leaning grandkids of largely retired (Jewish) Florida dwellers go back to see bubba and zeide to tell them to do the right thing.
I've been following the election - who hasn't - but of course I have a few other things going on right now. Running a business. Having a baby. Nesting. Accounts. You know how it is.
So I may go a little - legitimately - quiet in the next few whenevers. Or I may not, as nature doesn't always take its course when you expect.
I've been following the election - who hasn't - but of course I have a few other things going on right now. Running a business. Having a baby. Nesting. Accounts. You know how it is.
So I may go a little - legitimately - quiet in the next few whenevers. Or I may not, as nature doesn't always take its course when you expect.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Virtual Worlds Forum Europe - ten days to go and looking great.
That's why I've been a little quiet - running a big show is a full-time gig, even for a blogger :)
So what've we got?
Well, hundreds of people signed up to the best virtual worlds show in London, 100+ speakers, great keynotes from EA, Jagex (who you hardly ever see speak), lots of cool sponsors and exhibitors. And great networking.
We like to party, and we know our delegates do, so you get a four day pass to the Hospital Club, the private members club for the creative industries, PLUS opening night party hosted by our friends at SXSW (you have to register quick to get on the guest list for that) and closing night party hosted by Sony Playstation. It's a party week.
And all delegates get three great benefits when they sign up - apart from the Hospital Club pass you get a 3 month subscription to FT.com, plus a complimentary copy of a in-depth Gartner Research report.
We've quite some press list, so you'll get to read all about it, but if you're into the business aspects of virtual worlds and online games, we're the place to be.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Spam Spam Spam Spam (in the words of the song)
So once, about four years ago, I went to Confex to check out suppliers for clients, and by mistake - boy do I regret it now - I left my business card, with my email address, on a stand which supplied event management software.
It's a small company, with a couple of big public sector clients who don't mind that their package is expensive and doesn't really have benefits-clarity. I guess I've got used to the general good practice you see online - who wants to mail people who don't want it?
I run my own company, so I know no-one ever gets it totally right, but most people/organisations will fix a problem pretty quickly if someone's receiving unwanted mail. It's been interesting for me - people who signed up for our email, then later email and say they never requested it. There's a lot of mail. There's a lot of spam. You don't want to piss people off.
So when I got email in January from Simon, I was surprised:
Dear Sasha
I hope 2008 is a good year for you!
Please let me know if you would like.
1. Any more assistance with XXXXX, Europe's leading xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx?
2. Further information on our other products and services, for meeting planning and marketing?
Thank you.
Kind regards
James
P.S. We also have NEW prices for XXXX that reduce your costs by up to 40%.
James Brown
Skype: jamesbrown
Email: james.brown@thatveryannoyingcompany.com
**SINCE 1992 PROVIDING EVENT MANAGEMENT TECHNOLOGY WORLDWIDE**
I had a certain sense of deja vu, because after I went to this trade show, James Brown called me twice a week for months and just wouldn't go away. I didn't need his services, I made it very clear, but he just couldn't take no for an answer. Now, I admire persistence, but there's no point in trying to sell people something they neither need nor want.
And also, let's not forget that I've never made an inbound call to him. NEVER. So back in January I had some firm words with him, and he agreed to remove me entirely from his database. I felt a small sense of victory and inbox calmness.
So imagine my surprise when this week I get ANOTHER email from ANOTHER colleague selling me something I've neither been interested in or even vaguely wanted for five years.
I call the MD Friday. He still has that annoying salesy voice, and, by the sounds of it, a job. He remembers me. He doesn't apologise. He implies they were scraping the barrel for leads. He doesn't care that I told him never to mail me again and he promised same. He agreed to check into it and come back to me.
Like he will. Modernity. It can be very annoying.
So once, about four years ago, I went to Confex to check out suppliers for clients, and by mistake - boy do I regret it now - I left my business card, with my email address, on a stand which supplied event management software.
It's a small company, with a couple of big public sector clients who don't mind that their package is expensive and doesn't really have benefits-clarity. I guess I've got used to the general good practice you see online - who wants to mail people who don't want it?
I run my own company, so I know no-one ever gets it totally right, but most people/organisations will fix a problem pretty quickly if someone's receiving unwanted mail. It's been interesting for me - people who signed up for our email, then later email and say they never requested it. There's a lot of mail. There's a lot of spam. You don't want to piss people off.
So when I got email in January from Simon, I was surprised:
Dear Sasha
I hope 2008 is a good year for you!
Please let me know if you would like.
1. Any more assistance with XXXXX, Europe's leading xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx?
2. Further information on our other products and services, for meeting planning and marketing?
Thank you.
Kind regards
James
P.S. We also have NEW prices for XXXX that reduce your costs by up to 40%.
James Brown
Skype: jamesbrown
Email: james.brown@thatveryannoyingcompany.com
**SINCE 1992 PROVIDING EVENT MANAGEMENT TECHNOLOGY WORLDWIDE**
I had a certain sense of deja vu, because after I went to this trade show, James Brown called me twice a week for months and just wouldn't go away. I didn't need his services, I made it very clear, but he just couldn't take no for an answer. Now, I admire persistence, but there's no point in trying to sell people something they neither need nor want.
And also, let's not forget that I've never made an inbound call to him. NEVER. So back in January I had some firm words with him, and he agreed to remove me entirely from his database. I felt a small sense of victory and inbox calmness.
So imagine my surprise when this week I get ANOTHER email from ANOTHER colleague selling me something I've neither been interested in or even vaguely wanted for five years.
I call the MD Friday. He still has that annoying salesy voice, and, by the sounds of it, a job. He remembers me. He doesn't apologise. He implies they were scraping the barrel for leads. He doesn't care that I told him never to mail me again and he promised same. He agreed to check into it and come back to me.
Like he will. Modernity. It can be very annoying.
Friday, August 08, 2008
You don't need me to tell you that humous is practically my religion. You knew that. I am number three on google for humous recipe, and I reckon that if you cut me open, like a tree, you'd find out I'm about 67% humous, just looking at the rings.
So when someone sent me the Humous Rap... I couldn't not, could I?
Watch and enjoy. I don't mean that in an enjoy! way, just that it's fun.
So when someone sent me the Humous Rap... I couldn't not, could I?
Watch and enjoy. I don't mean that in an enjoy! way, just that it's fun.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
My friends have just launched a great cheap contact lenses businesses. Check it out, great prices.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
There's a lot to be said for topic-specific blogs. Knitting disasters. Personal tales. And now, Cake Wrecks.
I especially love the "you too can prevent random quote marking" with the
Anber
"We will miss"
you
And there's a blog of unnecessary quotation marks. Of course.
I especially love the "you too can prevent random quote marking" with the
Anber
"We will miss"
you
And there's a blog of unnecessary quotation marks. Of course.
Friday, July 11, 2008
A shortage of Golden Delicious?
My apple of choice (and let's face it, we all know that an apple a day keeps the doctor away blah blah blah) is golden delicious. Could be learned behaviour, I grew up on them, or it could be the 9 grammes of sugar in each apple, but that's my thing.
Except, they seem to have disappeared. I've googled on a whole host of key words, I've tried to order them at Tesco Online, and I've gone into various Kilburn fruiteries (aka market stalls) and they just don't seem to be "there". No one knows why.
I was forced in to paying 40p an apple in some Hendon fruit shop this morning for a Faux Delicious, which I don't think will cut it. Anyone know the answer?
My apple of choice (and let's face it, we all know that an apple a day keeps the doctor away blah blah blah) is golden delicious. Could be learned behaviour, I grew up on them, or it could be the 9 grammes of sugar in each apple, but that's my thing.
Except, they seem to have disappeared. I've googled on a whole host of key words, I've tried to order them at Tesco Online, and I've gone into various Kilburn fruiteries (aka market stalls) and they just don't seem to be "there". No one knows why.
I was forced in to paying 40p an apple in some Hendon fruit shop this morning for a Faux Delicious, which I don't think will cut it. Anyone know the answer?
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
grass, man
So someone sent me a little tin of seeds and fake-soil as a strange promotional gift to make me go to their stand at the Exhibiting Show.
Not sure I ever made it to the stand, but I loved growing the grass - I feel all mustard-and-cress and spring-summer and at one with nature.
Long may it last.
Not sure I ever made it to the stand, but I loved growing the grass - I feel all mustard-and-cress and spring-summer and at one with nature.
Long may it last.
Friday, June 27, 2008
It's been a while.
I know. I'm sorry.
What brought it to a head is that yesterday, I was lunching with a former (lovely) client in my club, darling, and I bumped into some old friends/flatmates lunching with a former college friend. I know, I know, small world (when you're Jewish). Afterwards, I ran into one of the party by the lift and he said to me, "you know, when you sat down, M said that's Sashinka, and the other guy was like wow, I love her but she doesn't write any more."
Flattered, of course, but I'm still here. And I do write.
I've been busy. I know I always say that, and I know that other people are busy too.
Here are some random things that have happened recently;
I bought at Asus EEE pc on which I am typing now. It's life-changingly small, but actually the keyboard's quite crap for proper writing rather than websurfing. Because it's Linux, not Micro$oft, it works straight out of the box, which is good
I got married. Just over a month ago. I've never been happier.
I have more comics in my house than I ever thought possible.
I launched the second edition of my show, the Virtual Worlds Forum Europe, in London in October, the meeting place for those interested in the business applications of virtual worlds, MMOs and games. it's going to be quite some party, believe me, and we've got some amazing announcements coming up.
Let's just say I've done a lot of baking.
Mostly cheesecake and chocolate chip banana bread, but other things too.
...
Anyway, we're off out for dinner, shabbat shalom, and I'll write more. Promise.
I know. I'm sorry.
What brought it to a head is that yesterday, I was lunching with a former (lovely) client in my club, darling, and I bumped into some old friends/flatmates lunching with a former college friend. I know, I know, small world (when you're Jewish). Afterwards, I ran into one of the party by the lift and he said to me, "you know, when you sat down, M said that's Sashinka, and the other guy was like wow, I love her but she doesn't write any more."
Flattered, of course, but I'm still here. And I do write.
I've been busy. I know I always say that, and I know that other people are busy too.
Here are some random things that have happened recently;
Anyway, we're off out for dinner, shabbat shalom, and I'll write more. Promise.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Our chometz has been sold...
Our chometz has been sold through Dayan Ehrentreu
Thank the lord.
See, pesach, you can't own any leavened goods (chometz) so all your everyday stuff is chometz, and you get in pesach food and get out your pesach pots and spring clean, but you still own stuff. So you sell it to a non-Jewish person. Judaism is full of these little legal workarounds.
In fact what you do is appoint someone - typically your Rabbi - to act as your agent, and then they batch-process the sale of their community's chometz.
It's complicated.
But the yichus. This was in the window at Kosher Kingdom. It's not just that the sold their chometz. It's that they did it through the fomer Chief Judge (dayan) at the Beis Din (law courts).
Not everyone takes it this seriously, but I do. Some take it more seriously. My view is that everyone is a little bit frummer on pesach than they are the rest of the year.
Anyway, it's all over Sunday night. Let's just say I've eaten a lot of matzah. And my kishkes are struggling for it.
Thank the lord.
See, pesach, you can't own any leavened goods (chometz) so all your everyday stuff is chometz, and you get in pesach food and get out your pesach pots and spring clean, but you still own stuff. So you sell it to a non-Jewish person. Judaism is full of these little legal workarounds.
In fact what you do is appoint someone - typically your Rabbi - to act as your agent, and then they batch-process the sale of their community's chometz.
It's complicated.
But the yichus. This was in the window at Kosher Kingdom. It's not just that the sold their chometz. It's that they did it through the fomer Chief Judge (dayan) at the Beis Din (law courts).
Not everyone takes it this seriously, but I do. Some take it more seriously. My view is that everyone is a little bit frummer on pesach than they are the rest of the year.
Anyway, it's all over Sunday night. Let's just say I've eaten a lot of matzah. And my kishkes are struggling for it.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Matzah wars in North London
It's cho ha mo'ed, the days in the middle of Pesach/Passover. We've been to two seders, done a serious spring clean, put away all the everyday crockery and got out all the pesach stuff, covered all the kitchen surfaces and seriously cleaned all the kitchen appliances. This is why it's called the Festival of Freedom.
I've also had a lot of fun; hanging out with friends, relaxing, eating pesach food, including matzah. Fascinating piece in the Guardian on the first day of yomtov about the matzah price wars in North London.
It's interesting when there's a piece about a subject you know intimately; I did my pesach-shop at Kosher Kingdom, and I know that Richard Hymans from Manchester is really called Richard Hyman. Not because of the Jewish conspiracy, but because I grew up with him (Cheadle lad). And the prices are slightly inaccurate because there are different brands of matzah, and some cost up to £1.19. But then, so does a loaf of bread.
It's cho ha mo'ed, the days in the middle of Pesach/Passover. We've been to two seders, done a serious spring clean, put away all the everyday crockery and got out all the pesach stuff, covered all the kitchen surfaces and seriously cleaned all the kitchen appliances. This is why it's called the Festival of Freedom.
I've also had a lot of fun; hanging out with friends, relaxing, eating pesach food, including matzah. Fascinating piece in the Guardian on the first day of yomtov about the matzah price wars in North London.
It's interesting when there's a piece about a subject you know intimately; I did my pesach-shop at Kosher Kingdom, and I know that Richard Hymans from Manchester is really called Richard Hyman. Not because of the Jewish conspiracy, but because I grew up with him (Cheadle lad). And the prices are slightly inaccurate because there are different brands of matzah, and some cost up to £1.19. But then, so does a loaf of bread.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
This is why I like living in Kilburn...
I'm busy. I'm slightly stressed even, with plans to make and things to do and a list as long as both of our collective arms. And it's Pesach friday.
So I'm running around, trying to get stuff done. Dropping off shirts at the shirt service. Finding out they'll charge £14 for a small alteration (I decide to do it myself, I was just trying to make life easier), and I drop into the petrol station to get some petrol.
Some say that North Kilburn is slightly scary, and it is true that someone sadly got murdered at this garage a few years ago. (I was particularly disturbed that he was Romanian, landsleit, if you will). Some say, you shouldn't go out in that part of London after dark, but I think that's rubbish.
So it's busy on the forecourt, and there's a coupla aging Beemers, gyrating to the sound of the beat through their blacked out windows. A guy dressed for urban combat and with some serious jewelry is blocking me in, and I can't leave. Another guy - burly, black - yells at the combat guy in some Carribean/Yoruba patois something along the lines of "move your car for the lady".
After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing he complies, not before trying to make me squeeze through a gap smaller than I really am. I have the window down, I'm stressed. I'm saying to him, I don't fit in there.
And the other guy, the burly guy says to me "deep breaths, count to ten backwards. Not worth getting stressed about, innit. Nice day. Enjoy it."
I smiled and thanked him. Sometimes, those small little human acts just brighten up your day.
I'm busy. I'm slightly stressed even, with plans to make and things to do and a list as long as both of our collective arms. And it's Pesach friday.
So I'm running around, trying to get stuff done. Dropping off shirts at the shirt service. Finding out they'll charge £14 for a small alteration (I decide to do it myself, I was just trying to make life easier), and I drop into the petrol station to get some petrol.
Some say that North Kilburn is slightly scary, and it is true that someone sadly got murdered at this garage a few years ago. (I was particularly disturbed that he was Romanian, landsleit, if you will). Some say, you shouldn't go out in that part of London after dark, but I think that's rubbish.
So it's busy on the forecourt, and there's a coupla aging Beemers, gyrating to the sound of the beat through their blacked out windows. A guy dressed for urban combat and with some serious jewelry is blocking me in, and I can't leave. Another guy - burly, black - yells at the combat guy in some Carribean/Yoruba patois something along the lines of "move your car for the lady".
After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing he complies, not before trying to make me squeeze through a gap smaller than I really am. I have the window down, I'm stressed. I'm saying to him, I don't fit in there.
And the other guy, the burly guy says to me "deep breaths, count to ten backwards. Not worth getting stressed about, innit. Nice day. Enjoy it."
I smiled and thanked him. Sometimes, those small little human acts just brighten up your day.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Purim Seuda
If only I could cook this well. Went to M&A's (they're not a bank) for Purim Seuda, and it was a veritable mediterranean feast, I tell you.
OK. I've been quiet, sorry. I don't want to go into a whole explanation, but things are good, really. Just busy.
Here are some things I haven't done in the last few weeks:
tell you about ISAs before the deadline. If you didn't do it last year, and have £3,600 floating around, stick it in a high rate cash ISA now. I am not registered by the FSA blah blah blah. On top of that, you can get regular savings accounts at 8% right now, so that's worth doing too.
tell you about Purim. It was great. My cousin phoned me from Golders Green to say she'd just seen a banana wearing a shtreimel crossing the road.
It's the London Romanian Film Festival next week
A ton of other stuff...
Late news: my cousin emailed to say it wasn't a banana, but a chicken. Easy mistake.
Here are some things I haven't done in the last few weeks:
Late news: my cousin emailed to say it wasn't a banana, but a chicken. Easy mistake.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Grandma's things
Family History
I love family history. I love knowing where I came from, and what my family were like, and what they liked, and especially what recipes they cooked.
I've been helping my parents clear out their house recently, pending a move to their new place, and I've "inherited" some lovely things from both my grandparents, largely culinary, but then that quite suits me.
So these are some of my paternal grandparents' things: the celery jar and breadboard (I'm guessing circa 1930s judging by the pattern) - the green bowl with the chopped fried fish is contemporary (Habitat's finest, I think).
I love the fact that maybe fifty years after my grandparents used these things every day, I'm still doing it, although I gather that celery should be correctly served with cheese and biscuits.
I love family history. I love knowing where I came from, and what my family were like, and what they liked, and especially what recipes they cooked.
I've been helping my parents clear out their house recently, pending a move to their new place, and I've "inherited" some lovely things from both my grandparents, largely culinary, but then that quite suits me.
So these are some of my paternal grandparents' things: the celery jar and breadboard (I'm guessing circa 1930s judging by the pattern) - the green bowl with the chopped fried fish is contemporary (Habitat's finest, I think).
I love the fact that maybe fifty years after my grandparents used these things every day, I'm still doing it, although I gather that celery should be correctly served with cheese and biscuits.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Back from GDC, jetlag to die for.
Big week Jewishly - Book Week's already happening (although disappointed that Jon Ronson seemed to drop out / turn into Miriam Karlin), and just discovered this cool thing, Muju - cutting edge artists from Muslim and Jewish backgrounds working together creatively - at the Tricycle in Kilburn (my local, dontcha know) all day Sunday - check out the programme here. I've actually got plans for a lot of Sunday, so really disappointed to be missing Jonny Berliner, and if you get a chance, definitely see Yoav Segal's short film Cable Street. I recommend both highly.
Big week Jewishly - Book Week's already happening (although disappointed that Jon Ronson seemed to drop out / turn into Miriam Karlin), and just discovered this cool thing, Muju - cutting edge artists from Muslim and Jewish backgrounds working together creatively - at the Tricycle in Kilburn (my local, dontcha know) all day Sunday - check out the programme here. I've actually got plans for a lot of Sunday, so really disappointed to be missing Jonny Berliner, and if you get a chance, definitely see Yoav Segal's short film Cable Street. I recommend both highly.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Social Gaming
Fascinating panel yesterday on Facebook and the New Web of Social Gaming. Ably moderated by Nabeel Hyatt from Conduit Labs, with TJ Murphy from Warbook/SGN and Marc Pincus from Zynga, it was quite some show.
The Worlds in Motion Summit at GDC is in its first year, spun off from the popular blog of the same name, and most of the panels and presentations have played to a fairly full room.
The Social Gaming panel was truly standing room only. When Nabeel asked people for a show of hands on who's looking to develop a Facebook Game, about 70% of the audience said yes, and the remainder were planning on launching one shortly.
You don't need to me to tell you that what's hot in virtual worlds and games is the merging/overlap with social networking/web2.0, but I saw writ large in the excitement around yesterday's panel.
Here's why I think it's a model people like:
- unlike a traditional virtual world or MMO, which need years of time and investment to make them happen, you can launch a Facebook game in two to four weeks, and then iterate from there
- if you're a developer, Facebook is effectively your publisher. So there's no hardcore marketing (although you can see in the graphs where the viral marketing hit on user numbers). And if you're used to making immersive, social engaging games, you need to make something that leverages the social nature of Facebook to bring in more playesr (friends), and you're half way there
- Revenue is acheivable fairly easily, apparently, on a CPA (cost per aquisition, effectively affialate deals), as opposed to CPM or CPC (cost per click) - according to Pinkus, "CPA is real, CPM is bullshit), although there was quite some debate about this.
The Worlds in Motion Summit at GDC is in its first year, spun off from the popular blog of the same name, and most of the panels and presentations have played to a fairly full room.
The Social Gaming panel was truly standing room only. When Nabeel asked people for a show of hands on who's looking to develop a Facebook Game, about 70% of the audience said yes, and the remainder were planning on launching one shortly.
You don't need to me to tell you that what's hot in virtual worlds and games is the merging/overlap with social networking/web2.0, but I saw writ large in the excitement around yesterday's panel.
Here's why I think it's a model people like:
- unlike a traditional virtual world or MMO, which need years of time and investment to make them happen, you can launch a Facebook game in two to four weeks, and then iterate from there
- if you're a developer, Facebook is effectively your publisher. So there's no hardcore marketing (although you can see in the graphs where the viral marketing hit on user numbers). And if you're used to making immersive, social engaging games, you need to make something that leverages the social nature of Facebook to bring in more playesr (friends), and you're half way there
- Revenue is acheivable fairly easily, apparently, on a CPA (cost per aquisition, effectively affialate deals), as opposed to CPM or CPC (cost per click) - according to Pinkus, "CPA is real, CPM is bullshit), although there was quite some debate about this.
GDC @ Moscone Centre
GDC @ Moscone Centre - the buzziest "town" bit of SF, as far as I can tell.
I had a conversation over lunch yesterday with an R&D guy who kept saying "what technology do you build your product in" and I said "it's a media company, we do events and blog and podcasts" and he still wanted to know what technology I built it in, like that was question seven he always asked, irrespective of the content.
I had a conversation over lunch yesterday with an R&D guy who kept saying "what technology do you build your product in" and I said "it's a media company, we do events and blog and podcasts" and he still wanted to know what technology I built it in, like that was question seven he always asked, irrespective of the content.
Graffitti on Valencia
This is somewhere between graffitti and flyposting and art.. somewhere on that continuum.
The Mission/Noe Valley area makes me feel very at home - we event went to an Irish gastropub last night - very Kilburn.
The Mission/Noe Valley area makes me feel very at home - we event went to an Irish gastropub last night - very Kilburn.
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