43. Me and my Furry Friends

26th January 2014, Spitalfields City Farm, Shoreditch, London

Sad as it might be, I still enjoy the same things now that I did age 5. This includes the Smurfs, funny straws and petting zoos. Seeing as I live next to a Spitalfields City Farm and had not yet visited it - this hungover Sunday was the perfect time to go.

I get that it's winter and that the city farms may not be the most happening of places, but I would have hoped for something more than a bunny and a coriander garden. If you're going to dedicate a garden to just the one herb - why choose coriander, the most disgusting of all in theory edible leafs?

Maybe having lived close to Hackney City Farm in the past have raised the bar for all city farms so that I have unrealistic expectations....? After all, Hackney City farm has a pig named after me who listens to my troubles when I care to share, they get goat babies every spring and they have great duck eggs that makes a mean omelette. 

Walking through the ghost town that is Spitalfields City Farm did most certainly not cheer up my Sunday. Until I hear the familiar sounds of an 'eeyore' and the excitement is back on! I just love donkeys.

And what a cute donkey it was. There wasn't a name sign or anything, so I decided his name was Luigi. I didn't name the other donkey that later appeared or the tiny pony as they wouldn't come hang out with me. Luigi however did. And he was super fluffy and sniffed me. I love that in both men and donkeys.

Close up of my new boyfriend, Luigi.

Luigi's pals - they're currently unsupportive of our relationship. I'll win them over. One day. You just wait.

 

42. Dear Mrs Branning

25th January 2014, Coal Vaults, Soho, London

I'll happily admit to my love for East Enders.
I'm not embarrassed about my long standing crush on Max Branning (yes, really) or the fact that I think Dorothy Branning is an icon in oh so many ways (I mean just look at those blouses!). Which is why I obviously had to try her signature drink at some stage and the sooner, the better.

The Dot Cotton cocktail, based on her name prior to meeting Jim Branning - I know too much about these characters - consists of lavender infused gin with blackberries and egg white. It is an excellent representative for Mrs Branning, she'd definitely loudly disapprove both once and twice!

The Dot Cotton is an invention brought to the world by the Coal Vaults in Soho. Not normally a West End girl I made reservations on a whim ahead of a night out with my favourite fellow blondes and we were all pleasantly surprised. Upon arrival I did however worry that I had brought the girls along to a black market brothel - the venue is an extremely dark basement and sits behind some even darker curtains.

This place had really amazing and inventive cocktails and the food was absolutely top class - and we had some picky girls there. Not normally a big fan of tapas, even I would say that these dishes really had a great twist to them and the rabbit was without a doubt the best rabbit I have ever had.

The best bit about the evening though was of course getting to catch up with two of my favourite ladies as we haven't had a chance to meet and gossip since well before Christmas. And with all the exciting things going on in their lives with new jobs, house shopping, babies not really being babies anymore and holiday plans coming up, this dinner was well overdue.

Not so surprisingly, the night didn't end at dinner as there was so much to talk about and my sequined  Prada trousers needed a proper night out - we therefore moved on to Champagne at Kettner's and drinks at Boheme. So much for me not being too crazy about Soho.

Maybe besides channelling my inner Dot Cotton I am also developing a West End girl alter ego...?

Dot Cotton on tap.

Me and Dot living it up in Soho.

Blonde Ambition take 1

Blonde Ambition take 2



Blonde Ambition take 3

Yummy Chanterelles - goes great with rabbit! 

Croquets!

Seriously tasty broccoli!

When saying that I usually drink mojitos and proceed to give the bartender free hands - I'd expect something other than straight tequila back! But that said, it would have been rude not to...

 

 

 

 

41. Hoi Polloi

25th January 2014, Hoi Polloi at Ace Hotel, Shoreditch, London

I love brunch, I love a funny name and I love a venue with a cool atmosphere and interesting people (read: pretentious East London haunts). Having been to the sister restaurant, Bistrotheque quite a few times, Hoi Polloi was added to my list of things to do and spots to try out as soon as it opened.

Waking up after a Friday night in planning our trip to the Caribbean, me and the lovely Hell's Bells were starving and my Bloody Mary addiction had not been seen to for several weeks. Disaster!

The best thing with going to brunch with Hell's Bells is the extra pancake plate. Always. Which means that I can enjoy my eggs and still get pancakes. I love pancakes. However, the Bloody Mary in this place - not so much. Very bland.

The highlight of our Hoi Polloi visit was however finally booking our trip to the Dominican Republic, 8 days of the beach and luxury brunch on tap and it's only six weeks to go!

By the way - Hoi Polloi is Latin for the common people. Pretentious East London Haunt was it?

One very bland Bloody Mary....

 

The mandatory pancake side plate!

One very yummy duck egg with mushrooms.

Mmmmmm, brunch...!

40. Obamas vs. Kardashians

23rd January 2014, Shoreditch, London

I am not a total idiot. I know the names of several of the UK ministers, I know we're in a double dip recession and sort of what that means, and I have a fair idea of where there are currently wars going on in the world. But that said, my general knowledge leaves a lot to wish for and I would probably be able to name all the Kardashians quicker than I could name the Obamas.

Some people have advised that the best way to improve your general knowledge and be a bit more a jour with what is going on in the world is to read through the Economist on a weekly basis. I have made several attempts at making it through the entire thing and although I realise that it aims to be more serious than OK magazine - does it actually have to be that boring?

Having a few days in house arrest, I figured I might as well make some use out of it beyond the Real Housewives of Orange County.

It is 86 pages of dullness and all I learned was:

• The French president is a cheat - and I already knew that from Closer Magazine. It's all basically like Dynasty but with boring and ugly people. But didn't realise it qualified as news. 
• Technology will cut jobs. How is this news?
• Pandas are bad at sex. Now this I did not know. Personal theory - they are all so cute they're just putting each other in the friend zone. A lot of puppy faced men can probably relate.

To be clear - I will not be subscribing to the Economist any time soon.

I think I would have convinced people of my interest in the events of the world if I hadn't bought Now for back up....

39. Non Chipper

23rd January 2014, Guys and Dolls Parlour, Shoreditch, London

I am bit of a girlie girl in spite of my man jaws and I love getting my nails done. I do however have the not so great ability to always chip my nails hours after leaving the salon, and the hobo chic era is very long gone.

Obviously shellac has been around for a while, but I have so far been reluctant to try it out as I tend to change my mind on what's hot and not every 5 minutes. But after spending all of January with the same chipped nail polish end split ends due to pure laziness, I decided it was time. I guess I rather be polished without variety than a colourful junkie.

Popping into the lovely Guys and Dolls parlour I'm immediately given a lychee-champagne cocktail and US Vogue. Winner.

I have massive commitment issues when it comes to my nails - same as with boyfriends, none that I've tried have been worth sticking with so far. But this place may have won me over. Really amazing colour selections and a great venue - there's a bar in the parlour. Say no more. 

After losing my shellac virginity - I'm hooked. The colour is so much brighter and not a chip in sight other than those that came with my fish.

Now the only bad thing may be the fact that now I have no excuse to get my nails done for another three weeks. The horror!

Bliss.

38. Running On Ice

21st January 2014, Canary Wharf Ice Rink, Canary Wharf, London

I have not been on a pair of ice skates for 20 years. Not exaggerating. The reason for this is my baby brother who looked all sweet and innocent but I swear was pure evil as a child (it's alright, he's been exorcised now).
As soon as our parents' had their back turned, he would effectively try to kill me; There was the throwing a plastic chair on my head causing a blood bath. There was also the pushing me out of a bunk bed head first - there's a month worth of photos of me aged 5 with a black eye every colour of the rainbow. And then there was the ice skating incident... Without going into to much details on the trauma that was to follow - I got off the ice and have refused to get back on there ever since.

I had now decided it was time to deal with my demons.

As stomping around like Bambi in the midst of the Canary Wharf bankers on my own was not something I was all that keen on, I brought one of my trusted girls from the office with me for a lunch skating session. I think she regretted agreeing to that the minute I got my ice skates on.

That sort of flick-ey, swooshing movement you need to make to move forward... I do not have it. I instead try to run on the ice. Which generally results in falling on ones' ass. A lot. We lost count at five.

After contemplating getting me a polar bear training gadget to hold on to, my ice skating buddy instead took it on herself to teach me. After 10 minutes about me stomping about the ice, the calm,clear and collected instructions are swapped for 'NO! NO, THAT'S NOT HOW YOU DO IT! IT'S NOT WHAT I TOLD YOU!'. You haven't been yelled at until you've been yelled at in Irish.

About 30 minutes in, all spent in the kiddie corner - I actually started to get the hang of it.

And stubborn as I am, I have every intention of learning now, so I will be back to fall on my ass until I am a master skater.

37. The Other List

21st January 2014, Shoreditch, London

Some people say never say never, I say some people are stupid.

Of course there are thing you'd never do! Saying anything else means that you're either way too impressionable or that you like using washed out quotes in lack of better things to say.

When I started talking about this blog, some people were (not always so) sweet enough to help me with suggestions. And it's not that I don't appreciate it, hell, I have 90 odd slots left on the list - but I don't have a death wish and I do have some pride.

So, number 37 on The List, is another list. These are the things I will most certainly never do:

1. KFC: I can proudly say that I have never and will never set foot in a KFC. I just don't get the deal or what it is that I'm missing out on. It's chicken deep fried beyond recognition all served up with... Baked Beans. Are you kidding me?
2. Parashooting: I have a fairly decent record when it comes to landing myself in accidents, whether it's falling down escalators, riding bikes straight into brick walls or getting myself run over by trucks - I'm damn good at landing myself with pretty severe injuries. So throwing myself out of a plane with nothing but a piece of fabric to save me - not going to happen.
3. Vajazzling: Fun to joke about, in the exact same way as most things introduced by the TOWIE cast - it's not in any way that I am laughing with them.
4. Twilight: The movie, the book, all of it. I'm sorry, but every bone in my semi feminist body rejects the very idea of the plot. The girl is clearly desperately dependant on the boy who is obviously much, much more amazing than her and worth giving up your entire life for. Of course he is! And obviously if you sleep with the guy before you're married he will lose all control and rip you apart. Of course he will! And obviously you have to carry your child in spite of it basically being a demon and you running the risk of dying in the process. Of course you do! Have we really not come further?
5. India: As a very wise man once said, India is an acronym for I Am Never Doing It Again. OK, so I know that you should not judge an entire place based on one bad (horrendous) experience, but if the experience is as bad as my four days in Delhi, it's an acceptable thing to do. Still deeply traumatised three years on, I can guarantee you that I will not ever set foot there again.
6. Have babies: Strictly speaking I'm not sure I've agreed to this. But I have been informed that it is not happening. By my nieces. Apparently they have enough cousins. But if I wish to have a puppy that's OK.

Other than these - I am always up for a challenge and have 90 slots to go!