Lagging Behind

Being jetlagged is really rather difficult for me (unlike my father, I seem unable to "just ignore it"). Being at home jetlagged while the Ashes is taking place in Australia is really, truly not helping me get over it.

It's been a bit of a tumultuous thing to get here, but snuggled up with the extremely lovely Betty the white & black cat by me, a cow patterned blanked, a glass of shiraz, cricket on and working away gently while absolutely full of turkey and turkey gravy sandwich, it's rather nice. Oh, and England having a 360 run lead while five down at the MCG doesn't hurt either.

2010: In Tunes

These are, at least for now, my favourite songs of the year.

1. Home - LCD Soundsystem. I was already falling more and more in love with this, and then saw it live - performed for the first time - at the Wellmont Theater gig in Montclair, NJ. The Murph felt he couldn't do New York I Love You, but You're Bringing Me Down in his home state of Jersey, so they did this instead - utterly perfect. And that was the point where I fell completely and utterly in love with it. And now it's my favourite song of the year, by miles. I love his ability to express doubt and ambivalence and fear and make it what's great about loving someone. I don't think there's anyone else who writes about friendship in quite the same way, and it's perfect on here:
   

   'Cause you're afraid of what you need
   Yeah, you're afraid of what you need
   If you weren't, yeah you weren't
   Then I don't know what we'd talk about

2. Turns Me On - Big Boi. A handful of tunes on Big Boi's album could have made this list, but this is by far my favourite.
   
3. Tightrope - Janelle Monae. One of the best videos of the year and, of course, written by Big Boi. But that's not only why I love it - her delivery is delicate and deft, and the result is so delightful - plus, of course, it gets the entire party moving. Brilliant.
   
4. Barbra Streisand - Duck Sauce. Bonkers song, bonkers video, bonkers everything and absolute genius.
   
5. Don't Fucking Tell Me What to Do - Robyn. I wasn't as bats for this album as the rest of the known universe, but I absolutely love this. It's not exactly Che-levels of rebelliousness, but it's just great - a perfect juxtaposition of a catalogue of the (perceived) pressures of modern life with thumping beats, and then just a childish but heartfelt reaction. Perfect pop.
   
6. Flash a Hungry Smile - Mystery Jets. I can't help liking them - I don't know quite what it is given that they're quite cheesy, but I do, and the whistling in this just gets completely and utterly stuck in my head.
7. Why Does the Wind? - Tracey Thorn. I loathed Everything but the Girl for yonks, assuming they were just another twee band (before "twee" meant what it does now in terms of music). It took the glories of Protection, the single and even better, Better Things off Massive Attack's Protection for me to "get" the charms of Tracey Thorn's voice. I then started listening to Walking Wounded, and it became my running companion in the early 2000s - just glorious. Her voice sounds so simple, but has a wonderful ability to convey emotion without being OTT, particularly a soft, gentle yearning. I really liked her album - it was nearly in my top 10 this year - and this is by far my favourite track off it - just lovely.
   
8. Saturday Come Slow - Massive Attack. I wasn't entirely convinced by this album, but this is just lovely - yearning, and a wonderful use of Damon's voice - it's incredibly like that on Beetlebum, which also provided that low, huskier part of his range without the mockney stuff - which I love too, but this is a strikingly different sound.
   
9. Wile Out - DJ Zinc & Ms. Dynamite. Although I love a bit of Dy-Na-Mi-Tee, my favourite Ms Dynamite is still Booo!, and I just love her toasting - her voice is utterly perfect for it. Always nice to show a little love for DJ Zinc, too, who has managed to move away from drum & bass without much trouble.
   
10. Church - The 2 Bears. There's something of the Ian Dury about the strongly accented vocals, and it's just a joyful tune with bells in the background, the organ throughout, and then the uplifting vocals. It's lovely.

And now, of course, for my favourite remixes of the year...

1. Sincere - MJ Cole, remixed by Nero. This is an amazing dub version of Sincere, and it's also led to my being reacquainted with the original, which is as classic a piece of 90s garage as one could wish for.
2. Starry Eyed - Ellie Goulding, remixed by Penguin Prison. Everybody (quite naturally, given the dubstep fascination right now) went nuts for the Jakwob remix, which I do like, but I love this - so cheesy, but it pulses forward and cuts through the cloying sweetness of her vocals, as well as making great use of Theophilus London's vocals.
3. Riot Music - Don'ae - both the version mixed by Skream and also that by Shy FX. Both of these are wicked, frankly. That's all. Expect me to be the only person dancing to this at NYE, but I shan't care a jot, I tell you.
   

And a special mention for Jazzy Jeff & Mick Boogie's summer mix album which wiled away many summer evenings this year. Fab.

2010: The Albums

I was going to be a bit pathetic and not put these in an official order, but I think I have to.

1. I'm New Here by Gil Scott-Heron. The production is wonderful, his voice is glorious - it's not just spoken word, it's somehow blues and soul and soaked with pain and anguish and years of thought and abuse. And I love it. Absolutely magnetic.
   
2. Sir Lucious Left Foot the Son of Chico Dusty by Big Boi. This album is absolutely spectacular. Kanye may have got the plaudits and the nods from many, many lists of the albums of the year but this to me leaves it for dust. The production is inventive and playful, he sounds spectacular and it's funny, smart and just genius. Turns Me On and Tangerine are going to be on repeat for our New Year's party. Cracking.
   
3. This Is Happening by LCD Soundsystem. Well, duh. I do love the Murph, we all know that. It's not Sound of Silver but, frankly, how could it be? Instead it's older, wiser, and Home is getting on for my favourite LCD track ever - at least, it's in the top 5. Maybe even top 3. Bliss.
   
4. Swim by Caribou. Apparently Mr. Caribou describes this record as sounds as if it were submerged in water and somehow, that just fits it beautifully. It has those slightly muffled qualities, and the warmth has that dazed, filtered sunlight feel to it. I love this - I've listened to it a ridiculous number of times and I find something interesting each time. It's got a really structured feel to it but it's not rigid - it flows, follows some pattern that I don't understand. Which makes sense, as the dude has a PhD in maths.
5. Dirty South Dance 2 by A Trak. Ok, so this is a mash up album so does it count? I dunno, but it's grand. I love the choices he's made on this, mixing up some seriously big hip hop names (Kanye, Ludacris), showing love for Kid Sister and then jamming them with house/dance tracks of the summer. TOH and I have listened to this a LOT this year.
   
6. Crazy for You by Best Coast. This was my album of the summer - just really good power 60s-style girl pop. It somehow sounds modern and fresh with this album, though, sort of like a Winehouse trick. Apparently they're amazing live, much edgier, so I'm going to try to grab tickets for her upcoming show with Wavves.
7. Cosmogramma by Flying Lotus. More dubby type stuff, with a fun, inventive streak. I wasn't sure about it at all at first then suddenly - bam. I've listened to it a lot at work. One of the ways I can tell I really am liking an album a lot is that it stays on the nano - now that I don't have that much space, I do have to use what I have judiciously. So there are certain things that I remove because I've not listened to them of late, although they may reappear later on. Cosmogramma has been on since I put it there, and it's not going to be removed any time soon.
8. The Magician's Private Library by Holly Miranda. So this is really, really not my usual type of thing, and TOH loathed it. But I like the breathy, magical and almost woozy feel to this. For reasons other than just the name it reminded me of The Magicians, which I read this year and really liked, and also of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell - something about the fuzzying effect of magic in the real world.
9. Real Life Is No Cool by Lindstrom. Slinky disco house from Norway. It's ace. And, of course, there is a glorious aeroplane remix available of one of the tracks.
10. Foundation by Breakage. Came late to this, but I really like it - a bit dubby but tons of great breaks, basically - and anyone who collaborates with Roots Manuva is alright by me.
    

There were also a few albums that I love that are new to me, rather than new to the world in general. Newly discovered gems. And these I'm not going to number, but I do love:

• 1 2 3 by Pole. Sludgy dubstep from before dubstep was even invented. Mr. Pole made these three albums, now released together as one album, between 1999 and 2002, I think. They are stunning - sparse, cinematic, atmospheric and dark - absolutely remarkable. This might be my find of the year.
• Remain in Light / Speaking in Tongues by Talking Heads. I knew the hits, obviously, but this is the first time I've really listened to Talking Heads albums. And they're brilliant. The influence on bands I love (i.e. LCD) is quite remarkable.
• 5: Five Years of Hyperdub is a fantastic gathering of the best of the label Hyperdub's output so far. It's another one that hasn't left my pod since I got it - excellent to work to, apart from anything else.
  

And just to round this off, the artists I've listened to most in the past year, according to Last.fm, are:

1		Danger Mouse & Jemini			19
2		The Beatles			18
3		Arcade Fire			17
4		A-Trak			15
5		Big Boi			13
6		The Future Sound of London			12
6		Lykke Li			12
8		Talking Heads			11
8		Mystery Jets			11
10		Gil Scott-Heron			10
10		Simian Mobile Disco			10
12		LCD Soundsystem			9
13		Pantha du Prince			7
14		PJ Harvey			6
15		Portishead			5

1		LCD Soundsystem			1,101
2		Air			448
3		Thievery Corporation			434
4		Massive Attack			341
5		Richard Hawley			338
6		Friendly Fires			218
7		Slum Village			205
7		A-Trak			205
9		Radiohead			204
10		Caribou			196
11		Big Boi			191
12		Underworld			182
13		Daft Punk			167
14		The Streets			164
15		Flying Lotus			145

So there you go. Upcoming: gigs of the year and favourite songs. I bet you cannot wait.

Red Light

Behold!

Our very first Christmas tree. The cats have shown an almost complete lack of interest in it. Which is probably good for the tree but, I can't deny, a little disappointing. They did enjoy the threading of tinsel into the banisters, so that's something.

False Alarm

I was about to get very, very, very concerned that somehow I had passed the 600 post mark without marking it in some way. Fortunately, it turns out that blogger, for some reason, counts draft posts as actual posts, meaning that I have about 12 to go, as I have a couple of drafts on the way (songs and albums of the year, natch).

Just so you know. I imagine you're as relieved as I am.

Dunzo, Finito, Finis

This morning I started writing a relatively measured post - for me, at least - about how I had realised that the increased joie de vivre I've been experiencing of late has coincided with my withdrawal from politics. I decided it was not worth the bother, really - not much of substance and no attempt to analyse causality.

And then I got back from a three-hour meeting to find that the Senate failed to repeal DADT, has put on hold the DREAM Act, and has voted against passing a bill for 9/11 rescue workers (unpaid for, you see, although that's apparently fine for $700bn of tax cuts for those earning over $250k per year - and god forbid that anyone build an Islamic cultural centre 3 blocks away because 9/11 was too important and it would affect those affected by 9/11).

And I realised that I'm done. I'm packing it in. No more podcasting; I can barely even take The Daily Show these days, it's so depressing. I just want out. Out, I tell you.

This while the students at home finally get excited about politics. Sigh.

Outflanked

This weekend proved yet another of culinary delights and no photographic evidence thereof.* Nonetheless, delightful it was. Friday night saw us grabbing late night martinis (Hendrick's of course, sweetie) and "bar menu" snacks at Cafe Noir. We enjoyed truffle fries, a gorgeous pizza with caramelized onions and a lovely fried egg in the middle, and chorizo arancini.

Saturday was TOH's departmental holiday party. We spent a LONG time cooking, and so arrived late and missed the homemade samosas, which greatly disappointed me. The reason for our tardiness was my being inspired by this lovely lady's musings on her successes with Guinness gingerbread and my attempt to recreate it. I used this recipe, but be warned: only half-fill your tin as you may otherwise have some serious spillage. Nonetheless, it was worth it: the cake was moist, extremely gingery and rich and wonderful. We also made a billion devils on horseback and trolled off to the party, where we were greeted by some glorious singing from a Greek choir (the choirmaster is married to someone in the department and she sang vigorously all the while with a very very small infant strapped in a papoose around her chest - it was amazing). The eating at the do wasn't quite so exciting, but that was probably because we'd been overdosing on sugar from the ginger cake (it had to be tested, obviously) and the amazing zimsterne that our friend made. Basically, they're almonds and sugar and are wonderfully chewy and delicious. We then tried to shake off our sugar crashes by trying out duckpin bowling. Verdict: hard. My hands are a bit small for the ball and it took a while to get used to it, but definitely will have another go - I think it could end up more satisfying (and far less stressful on the wrist) than ten-pin bowling.

Sunday saw us hiking in the Myles Standish State Forest, a lovely part of Massachusetts.
(no creator credited - if it's yours, please let me know).

It was certainly a lot more barren than this photo suggests, but the walk took us through woodland and then would suddenly throw us out into meadows where lovely late afternoon sunlight made the ears of grass glint beautifully golden. After seven miles in the more-or-less freezing temperatures, we felt fairly justified in scoffing a truly delicious meal. TOH and I had sampled some fantastic steak in Whole Foods on Saturday morning, and then he watched the demo lady recreate it. Essentially, you season flank steak and then sear it both sides. You remove to let it rest. Then in the same pan, you melt a healthy chunk of (decent) butter, and add chopped shallots (fairly fine but not minced) and roughly chopped trumpet mushrooms. Add a healthy dollop (around 1 tbsp) of dijon mustard. Let them sweat together and then add either some rosemary or, as we did, thyme. Then add, if so desired, a splash of white wine. After cutting it in thinnish strips (perhaps about 1/2 an inch) against the grain of the meat, you put the steak back in for a final round of cooking so the juices all mix together. We served it with sauteed potatoes and a large serving of roquette/arugula and watercress, and were knocking back pouilly-fuisse - a chardonnay-based white that I can cope with, generally, as although it has the roundness of chardonnay it's not overwhelmingly oaky or in your face. For dessert, the remains of the ginger cake along with some creme fraiche. Add to that a viewing of The Holy Grail and you have yourself a very pleasant evening.

* Well, there is this, at least:



In case you're wondering - and I expect you are - the thing that's attacking TOH is a bushukan, or "buddha's hand," which is a relative of the lemon. It's particularly useful because you get a ton of zest off it without all that pesky juicy fruit inside. Very strange but beautiful indeed. The display caused a great deal of fascination in Whole Foods on Saturday morning as TOH and I took photos of us attacking each other with them. They smell glorious - lemon with a floral, almost rose-like scent.

We Have Ways of Making You Talk

A while ago, a friend posted about how much she loathed the F-word - Facebook, that is. She has not taken to that form of electronic communication. I have read a lot in the last couple of years (mostly on the internets, of course) that bemoans the myriad forms of communication and how splintered we are; how the internet makes you stupid (there's even a whole book about that - that I know about because I listen to a podcast available through the wonders of the internet, of course). It has become a point of pride for some people that they will never tweet.

I end up somewhere in the middle. These things can be abused, can mute some forms of communication. The existence of Perez Hilton is a prime example of internet abuse, frankly.

Nonetheless, somehow the various social media have forged friendships from casual acquaintances as well as reaffirming others that, while deep, were not really based on keeping in regular touch. I have certainly bonded with relatively unknown acquaintances over amusing/political items posted on the F-word, and that has enabled us to go to concerts and dinners together and actually become real friends.

Moreover, I have a dear, dear friend (who I know reads this) with whom I am terrible at keeping in contact while I'm living in the US. Our friendship was formed before either of us had used the internet and, possibly as a consequence, we don't really communicate by email; the phone hasn't been our strong point either. We continue to see each other on visits, but we haven't kept up regular contact otherwise. Until round about now. Thanks to one particular social network, I now keep up with her every day. It opens a door into her world, what she's up to, where she's been, what's annoying her today. The stream of consciousness which has often formed the basis of our time together is now available to the two of us. It has genuinely changed my life for the better.

That I have one or two examples only probably illustrates the shallowness of my argument, but I maintain that for these cases at least, the fluttering shallow networks have enriched my social life in a way that I did not expect.

Sweet Zeus

I'm really trying not to rise to the bait, but I'm pretty sure that people write articles like this just to annoy me.

I'm not going to get angry - really, I'm not wasting bikram's sense of well-being and relaxed muscles from this morning - but I do have one point to make. (drum roll, please). None of these stupid, idiotic articles ever thinks to question whether that concept of "romance" - that women are helpless things without money and the ability to pay for themselves or open doors - isn't, actually, all that romantic. At least not to all of us. Whereas being thoughtful and considerate - an unexpected offer to cook dinner, rub one's feet, or just a keen need for a hug - is just always great.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

No, not that thing. It's only bloody November, and there has been far too much Christmas music - in cabs, in the doctor's office. God, it's awful. Although as an interesting sidenote, there really is surprisingly little overlap between US Christmas tunes and UK Christmas tunes. None of the Chris Rea "Driving Home for Christmas" for this country. Anyway, I digress.

This time of year is when all the albums of the year lists start coming out. I am a complete sucker for these things - I get angry at inclusions of rubbish, at low ranking or omissions of my favourites, and absolutely vindicated by the high rating of my highly rated ones. It's pathetic but I am the perfect target for these things. Sadly, this year won't be as good as last year because we won't have the added bonus of albums of the decade. Still, I can concentrate on what I have loved this year, and I think I overlooked that a little last year. So maybe I should revisit 2009... Hmm. The lists are coming; I can feel them.

Your Author's Diets

This week, I have mostly been eating... well, it's not the eating so much as the cooking. Although the eating has been GOOD - thanksgiving always provides that - but we've been trying out a few things and as it's always a resolution to cook new things, I'm going to start being disciplined and actually posting the yummy food that we've cooked.

So...

Thursday: For Thanksgiving, we took along our traditional (tradition of one year, ahem) shredded brussels sprouts that we cook with bacon and butter. This year, most of the sprouts enjoyed the addition of blue cheese, which added a whole other dimension of creaminess and yumminess to the already tasty food. We also made this roast beet & orange salad, which was pretty good, I have to say.

Friday: Friday was spent prepping for today's Thanksgiving feast (part deux). But, of course, there had to be brunch to make sure the cooking troops did not eat the food as we went along. So, for the first time, I made hollandaise to form eggs benedict (thanks to Nigel Slater's Appetite for guidance - still my hands down favourite book for cooking). I am extremely peeved that I didn't take photos of it, but I did take a pic of the lovely cranberry, ginger ale and prosecco cocktail that this lovely lady brought with her. Then we made this blueberry tart by Clothilde, doubling the quantities of the custardy filling because we made it as a pie, not a tart, Joanna made a gorgeous pumpkin pie (that at time of starting this post was baking away and set beautifully, thank goodness) and I made this pecan pie. TOH and Joanna's TOH made a gorgeous acorn squash veloute that smells absolutely amazing.

Saturday: Well, we were mostly going to be spending today eating. We made fresh bread baking to either accompany the soup, and then bought staleish bread to make croutons fried with garlic, mustard seeds and cumin seeds. And then we ate ourselves into oblivion. I only managed a sliver of the pumpkin pie, a hefty wedge of the pecan (because it was as dense as a neutron star) and none of the blueberry. The pastry was lovely, though, and a definite keeper. I also made the booziest bourbon cream ever - note to readers, add bourbon slowly and delicately.

Sunday: we got up surprisingly early and went for a stroll around the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens (more about that later this week). Then home to put on some pulled pork in the slow cooker - we're quite excited about it, and will report back later as to its success.

But first: evidence of this week's successes.

Though You May Not Drive a Great Big Cadillac

The concept of being "thankful" makes the agnostics/atheists among us occasionally feel nervous, it seems to me. Because, of course, to whom are you thankful? So we ought not to feel grateful or thankful, because that seems to give up something in the argument.

But I do feel grateful, thankful. To be honest, it's more of an appreciation of how fortunate one is, and understanding that, in the grand scheme of things, I am one of the luckiest people going. I have good health, I have comfort, shelter, and people whom I love and who love me. That's not bad going, really. There are other things for which to feel thankful, and here are just a few:

• Hot water. No, really, hot showers are the best.
• The way my cat Clem sneaks under the covers and warms me up like a furry hot water bottle if TOH isn't here.
• The genius that allows my computer to wirelessly plug into our stereo so that we can play everything through that - seriously, even if it makes me sound like this guy, isn't technology brilliant?
  
• Dishwashers.
• The joy of crosswords.
• Cricket - and the amazing technology that allows us to keep up with the Ashes from halfway around the world. And Test Match Special - always, always, TMS.
• Stevie Wonder. Talking Book has fit my mood perfectly this morning, but it could just as easily have been Innervisions or Songs in the Key of Life. The man is magic.
  

Spreading the Joy

Sunday morning. TOH's off at his veterans game (should be finished in about 15 minutes); I've scoffed the last of the bread from yesterday's batch and put on some more. That bread will be used tonight to mop up the juices and gravy from last night's absolutely gorgeous supper of lamb shanks braised for hours in tomatoes, red wine, spiked with rosemary and thyme. The debris from that has been cleared, and the bins of vegetable peelings are waiting by the door for composting. I'm about to sling on some slobby clothes and do the rest of the garden chores that I couldn't get to last weekend, as well as grab some cuttings from the lavender and cedar to give to my award-winning jam suppliers in return for all the glorious preserves that they've given me over the last couple of years - indeed, my fridge is full of homemade bitter, thick marmalade; a lighter meyer lemon and vanilla one; and fig and peach jam. Those hopefully will go toward dessert with the homemade bread, if there's any left.

Time to get to it. Domestic bliss and all that. Of course, this is all the sweeter and calmer and more joyous because Spurs beat the Arse yesterday in their own manor. It's all about context.

Sidesplitting

In order to test out the initial great reaction to bikram, I went back yesterday. Which meant leaving the house at 6 - ulp. Thems that know me know that being awake, let alone functional, before 8 is really not a natural state of being for me. But I did it, and by 7.15 I was sweating away again and wondering what I was doing to myself. This time round I did most of the poses, albeit some of the kneeling ones I had to modify for my poor old tendons and ligaments. In fact, I think I only missed out one standing pose and half of the triangle stuff which, for me, is quite an achievement. And lying there in savasana (dead body pose) at the end I felt, once more, invigorated and great.

Today, I'm sitting fully upright once more, but I'm also feeling the after effects of a much more vigorous workout - my sides are soooooore, and my hamstrings are protesting their use. But it feels good - again. I didn't drink the night before so that I'd enjoy it more, and last night I managed a mere basil lime daiquiri (which was lovely, by the way) for a friend's birthday drinks, and that only half-heartedly as I realised I couldn't take her out for cocktails and then choose wine.

Argh - I don't want to become one of those people. The ones who swear by it, you have to do it, you'll feel all energised and detoxed and without toxins. A lot of the people in the classes go every day, if not twice a day - that's mental. Once or twice a week is most certainly sufficient. Just remind me of that people, please, a lot.

Hot & Sweaty

That was me at about 7pm last night. Hot beyond words, sweat dripping everywhere. Last night, ladies & gents, I tried Bikram Yoga for the first time. And, based on last night, it won't be the last. Which surprises me. Because I have to say, I don't buy it - the whole you're compressing your organs and improving your digestion, you're sweating out toxins, you're losing weight (I was definitely sweating out all the water I'd drunk, not fat). There were points last night where I couldn't believe the pounding of my heart, just from stretching in a hot room, and I certainly felt a bit sick at a couple of points.

But I can't deny it: this morning I feel really good - very upright, my spine straighter, legs loose. I have some sore and achey bits, and tomorrow will certainly be worse (I've reached the age where it's two days later that the pain really kicks in). I resent the fact that my desk is most certainly not ergonomically good for me, with my chair too high (I can't fix it, for some reason) and my keyboard too low. Because, for once, I am actually sitting properly, not slumped or curled into my chair.

Believe me, I don't want to buy into it. But I'm certainly not averse to feeling like this.

I'm Back!

Not that you noticed I was away, I'm sure. I've just spent seven glorious days on the idyllic island of Lamu, in the Indian Ocean just off Kenya. Well, I spent most of those lazing around the pool in our ridiculously rock & roll house. But you get the drift. Then home for my first Bonfire Night in, I reckon, eight years. It's the time of the year I'm most homesick, other than Notting Hill Carnival (the last weekend in August), and while thrusting sparklers into the air, tracing messages (THFC and, nauseatingly enough, Grace Loves Mark), I was reminded of those evenings growing up, with mittens and mum making potatoes in the bonfire and it was magic.

But the start of the evening was inauspicious - lots and lots of rain, and we'd not protected the fire that my bro had beautifully built. Then, suddenly, the rain stopped, and the night took on that hazy misty look that clouds and fireworks everywhere bring about; it was wonderful. My bro's fire blazed away, and I appear to have inherited my mother's somewhat... cavalier approach to health & safety & fireworks. Which is probably not good.

But now I'm knackered, and have to somehow recover from my holiday and throw myself back into work. But only two weeks until Thanksgiving. I can manage that.

I've Eaten a Lot of Stickers

Annoyingly, Charlie Day's random rules in The Onion does not reveal anything that embarrassing. Even the Queen tune. So, to humiliate myself, here's mine for today, while sat in the Admirals Club lounge at Heathrow and trying to recover from a fairly dreadful night's sleep on the plane.

1. Where'd You Go? - Jamie Lidell. My love affair with the Lidell is officially over - the last concert I went to was fairly pants, and now it turns out he's not going to do any of the things that made him a cut above everyone else - the mixing, the sampling, the screwing things around and making them interesting. Shame. But I still love the first album, and the first couple of concerts of his that we went to were genuinely wonderful.
   
2. Azaleadalen - Junip. So, this is Jose Gonzalez's other band - not that I've really been that into Jose Gonzalez prior to hearing this stuff - but I like it. It's definitely got a feel of the Steve Masons about it, but with less electronic and more Spanish-guitarry influence. But what would I know? I really don't listen to this sort of music very much, and therefore it hampers my description no end.
3. 1 Thing - Amerie. God, I love this song - absolutely love it. There is a definite snobbery among a lot of my friends with whom, otherwise, I share a great deal of taste, over rnb-style pop. But I have a great deal of time for female-led rnb, it seems (my itunes is full of the stuff, Aaliyah and MJB particularly), and I absolutely love this - the harmonies are so pretty, and clash so well with the drums, and the stop-start harshness of the guitar & bass that are barely present. Sweet.
4. Your Flesh Is So Nice - Jeff Buckley. I like this because it's so playful despite being so overtly sexual, and playful is not necessarily something you associate with Jeff Buckley, despite his clear joy in playing with his voice.
5. Only the Truth - The Last Shadow Puppets. I can't help feeling I should like this more than I do - it's got some Bacharach/Morricone stylings with Alex Turner's great voice, and I do enjoy it when it's on, but I rarely reach for it, I have to say.
   
6. Tally of Souls - The Invisible. I thought I was really going to love The Invisible - a more accessible, less pretentious TV on the Radio. And I still love London Girl (and, slightly embarrassingly, it's my ringtone). But another one where I've been underwhelmed, although I do think they're making interesting music and I like his voice a lot.
   
7. Braindead (with Justin Warfield) - Bomb the Bass. This is from Clear which, I believe, came out in 1995. Holy cow. I loved this album - one of the first straight dance albums I'd ever bought. In fact, it's still got an awful lot to recommend about it - Bug Powder Dust is a classic, and, among others, Empire - featuring Sinead O'Connor and Benjamin Zephaniah - is one of my favourite final tracks of all time. And this somewhat tangentially reminds me to update my iPod with the K&D sessions, which features not one but two versions of Bug Powder Dust.
8. Wait for Me - Jamie Lidell. See #1 on this list.
9. Happy Endings - Pulp. I love, love, love, love Pulp. That is all.
10. Paper Doll - PM Dawn. So, I thought I was the only person in the world who remembered PM Dawn, let alone owned the records. Then, much to my excitement and TOH's unchecked amusement, we were in a bar near home and PM Dawn's greatest hits came on - and I could remember far too many of the words to maintain any semblance of cool
    

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Or, for me, the second most. I'm a big, big fan of spring, the joys of which I am severely deprived of in NYC. We have about 3 weeks of it, and then everything suddenly accelerates and we're sweating away in humidity and summer. Whereas I've always loved the blossoming of the magnolias, the emergence of crocuses and daffodils and hyacinths all things springlike. It fills me with joy and hope for the summer to come.

But I do still enjoy things autumnal and, right now, autumnal vegetables. The reemergence of roots and tubers is what excites me - far more than squashes, in fact. It's celeriac and parsnips and turnips appearing that has made me salivate. For goodness' sake, I even craved cabbage today, and so supper was a portabella mushroom burger with cabbage stir-fried with garlic and a turnip-parsnip mash spiked with horseradish. And it was goooooooood.

Bashing into Walls

I am clumsy. At least, that's how I've always thought of myself. And the big, swollen green bruise on my knee from smashing into a bench last week (at precisely the spot that swells up if I run and causes all the knee trouble, conveniently enough) would seem to bear that out.

Yet, I'm not completely convinced that "clumsy" is the right term for me. More accurate, really, is that I seem to have a surprising disregard for my physical integrity in a very specific way - i.e. I don't mind smashing into a ball/player etc. I've never been one of those who really ducks out of the way when a ball comes overhead - more likely, I'll charge into it. I think that explains the random weird bruises* I get rather than sheer clumsiness, because I don't drop things, really, or exhibit that kind of malcoordination.

I have been, however, historically very... well, I suppose "stompy" is the only way I can describe it. One thing that physical therapy has given me is actually far greater body control than I previously thought I had - my therapist has remarked several times on the more precise and graceful way in which I do some of my exercises these days, rather than clumping around. I'm not sure if that has translated into generally transporting myself around more gracefully, but I think the greater muscle development and control has given me a better sense of self. When I'm doing those exercises I can't help wondering whether having studied dance as a child would have made me feel more like that. Instead, I was a sporty child who was both big for her age (I stopped growing upward, at least, more or less, at 13) who cannoned around and relied on her body for being sporty but was not ever athletic, or precise, or graceful. I still occasionally think of myself as that lumbering, large child, but physical therapy is helping to change that.

* My gp was not desperately impressed with this explanation - I'm slightly concerned she believes that TOH is knocking me about, but you can't really explain it, can you, without sounding more and more like you're making up excuses. oops.

A Sea of Apples

Yesterday was a horribly wholesome day: a scrambling walk through Purgatory Chasm - ok, so that doesn't sound wholesome, but it was - followed by a trip to a local fair complete with corn mazes and mini golf, a disgusting amount of ice cream at a creamery, then apple picking and pumpkin patches. Of course, we then went and had martinis and steak to work that cleanliness from our souls, but still: wholesome. That's part of the point of come up to TOH's other home, in a way, to take advantage of the lovely lush countryside so close to home, to the sea and fresh air and farms and the ice cream. Seriously, the ice cream here is wonderful. But for future reference, you never, ever need a medium, ever: small will suffice.

The only question that remains: what on earth to do with these apples? I don't even really like apples. I certainly loathe hearing anyone else eating them in my vicinity. As so often is the case, booze might well provide the answer.