Thankful

I'm just home from a brilliant holiday in New York, specially timed to ensure I could spend Thanksgiving with best friends there in Manhattan. Although not my first visit to New York, it was my first experience of Thanksgiving Day and I would heartily recommend it if you have chance to be in the US. Folks genuinely celebrate just taking time with family and friends and for only that single day, will travel hundreds of miles if necessary to be together. And there is no distraction (both the pros and the cons) from gifts and presents but just good old-fashioned hospitality and the sharing of a feast of a meal. We didn't have marshmallow-topped potatoes (yes, honestly) but we did have a delish turkey, lovingly basted for hours, and a candied fruit pie (old family recipe) and with a nod to the Brits, a trifle ! There wasn't much evidence of the Pilgrim Fathers, apart from a couple of massive inflatables in Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, but given the latest worldwide events, we did all feel happy to be together and that we had a lot to be thankful for.

Celtic aura

Thanks to the recommendation of a friend, I went to see 'Celts: Art and Identity' at the British Museum this morning. I just have to say how wonderful it is. Despite the exhibition already being busy, the atmosphere was positively reverential. The low lighting, gentle music and gossamer ceiling create a sense of wonder around the glorious exhibits. It felt almost like being in church. When folks spoke, it was in a whisper, as we gazed at one glowing treasure after another. The exhibition runs until end January so get your skates on if you haven't been already. In this wintry weather, you might even need them.... 

Treats not tricks

It's Halloween today so, surrounded as I am by images of witches and devils, pumpkin lanterns and broomsticks, I suppose I should be concentrating on something spooky but actually, I want to have a quick chat about ice cream. Having said that, on this weekend of  'Trick or Treat', ice cream is definitely the latter.
So, when I was staying with cousins up in Edinburgh last month, I was particularly keen to visit a famous Italian restaurant in nearby Musselburgh called S. Luca. It's been in that little seaside town (also home of the oldest golf course in Scotland, by the way) for over 100 years and is rightly famous for its ice cream and ice cream cakes. It featured in a lovely book I'd just read called 'The Distance between us' by Maggie O'Farrell so caught my interest - turns out to be one of my cousins' favourite places for a weekend treat. Established in 1908 by Luca Scappaticcio and his wife, Anastasia, from Cassino, the business is still family run and continues to make ice cream to the same traditional recipes. Only now they don't have to hand stir the ingredients for long, long hours and store the mixture in dry ice. The ice cream is to die for and just a couple of simple scoops, accompanied by a robust expresso, was the perfect afternoon treat.
Just a couple of weeks later, I found myself in another locally famous Italian restaurant. This time, the family run, Sicilian Nonna's Kitchen in Hoddesdon, introduced by a work colleague who is also Sicilian and so, of course, knows the family. Once again I was presented with an array of delicious home made ice creams as well as home made breads, cakes, pizzas and the full range of Italian regional restaurant choices. This time, after dinner, I struggled to make room for a dessert ice cream but forced myself!
All I can say is that if you want to treat yourself to ice cream, today or any other day, don't bother with all that mock Cornetto nonsense but find yourself a local Italian ice cream parlour or restaurant - anything else just isn't worth the trick.  

Love letters

I read somewhere the other day that more than a third of people won't actually have put pen to paper in any way over the past six months. And, that schools are giving up teaching 'cursive' writing as digital skills begin to take over the world. Why swirl and loop with a pen when everyone can use and read typed text. This is in spite of research that shows that writing by hand improves creative writing skills and fine motor skills, especially in children. Hand writing connects hand and brain beautifully - and literally. As my friends and colleagues know, I'm a keen 'by hand' card and letter writer. I'm told that my missives bring pleasure and I surely love to receive cards and letters back from them. A recent article in The Guardian by that prolific writer, Simon Jenkins, mourned the passing of handwriting. We risk losing personal expressions of individual character - our own 'hieroglyphics' - to impersonal printed fonts. No-one could deny that a love letter holds more meaning, power and beauty when handwritten on paper than one delivered by digital text across some online platform.

Bemusement parks

Several years ago I came across a fab book published by Penguin called 'Bollocks to Alton Towers' written by a group of guys keen to tell the world about Britain's lesser known yet delightfully eccentric local attractions.  Barometer World in Devon, Diggerland in Kent and the British Lawnmower Museum in Southport are among the over 40 gems that the guys have visited and describe with wit and genuine affection. Having spent much of my working life absorbed in the challenge of running large and iconic visitor attractions, this book was all the more enjoyable for me. I appreciate the passion and dedication of so many people who practically give their lives to make all types of visitor attractions meaningful, memorable and fun for those who spend their time and money there. So it was with a heavy heart that I first heard about the opening this week of Banksy's Dismaland in Weston-Super-Mare, a 'pop-up theme park for the disenfranchised', whatever that means. But by the time I'd checked out more and read the reviews, I wish I'd bought tickets already. It sounds absolutely brilliant - dark, subversive, controversial and very, very clever. Just the ticket for a rainy Bank Holiday weekend. If you're lucky enough to be going, enjoy - honestly!

Fan Museum fan

I can’t believe that having been to Greenwich countless times over the years, yesterday for the first time, the Fan Museum was included on my ‘must see’ list. It’s one of those delightful gems that gets overlooked. There’s always something special on at one of the other, larger Greenwich attractions and what with a bite to eat, the Market and the obligatory schlep up the hill for that view, there’s never enough time.  So I shall now take five minutes to sing the praises of not only their exquisite collection of 18^th and 19^th century fans, beautifully displayed in well lit cases, but also the fine  18^th century house in which it sits on Croom’s Hill, one of the best kept 17^th to 18^th century streets in London. And like Rosemary Nicholson who rescued Lambeth’s Garden Museum in the 70s, the Fan Museum owes its existence to the drive of another determined woman, Helene Alexander. Ms Alexander’s personal collection of fans forms the core of museum displays which change every few months. I recommend you pop in next time you’re in Greenwich.   

Shopaholic

Last week I escaped London for a few days to stay with friends in a National Trust cottage deep in the Herefordshire countryside. It was a perfect break away - England at its best - wonderful views and wonderful walks. We also headed for local history and culture in the towns of Great Malvern. Tenbury Wells and Ludlow, all of which were new to me. As well as loads of tea-rooms, pubs and cafes, there were many independent shops to dip into and enjoy - what a delightful change. I read this week that Philip Pullman has said that 'an independent book shop in a town is a sign of civilisation and one we really need to look after'. By this reckoning, I think these towns are well guarded. According to the British Independent Retailers Association, the total number of independent shops in the UK has risen each year since 2010. Apparently there is a high churn rate but overall, positive momentum has returned to the high street and I, for one, am very happy for that.

Vuitton triumphs

Just in time for this month's blog, I want to rave about the Fondation Louis Vuitton building I visited last weekend in Paris - a Frank Gehry masterpiece. Intrigued by some press snippet and having loved the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, it was my 'must see' for the trip. I know the Guggenheim may be 'old hat' by now but let me tell you, there is nothing old or hattish about this latest architectural gem. It soars, it sweeps, it curves, it floats - it makes you gasp out loud. The shiny sails of the building rise up from the ever popular Jardin amusement park on the edge of the Bois de Boulogne. The fountains and running pools of water lead from one to the other. So two hits for the price of one - literally. And as if this wasn't enough already, then you get inside and see how the wide open, airy spaces and lighting to die for showcase the most stunning exhibition of 20th century art. Too many to list here but including Kandinski, Dix, Delauney, Matisse, Giacometti, Rothko, Picasso, Munch and more. Bernard Arnault, with Gehry, fought hard against considerable opposition to achieve this multi-million euro vision. I'm glad they succeeded. All those ridiculously expensive handbags suddenly make more sense now - hmmm - having said that, I'll probably not be rushing to buy one any time soon.

Ratty & Mole

Do you remember 'Wind in the Willows'? Mole was always my favourite, from that enchanting opening scene of spring cleaning and white wash and escaping up through his tunnel, out into the sunlight and the wonders of a warm spring day. Rather like today in fact. Full of fragrant blossom and the promise of the year to come. Remember how Mole meets Ratty on that first day and they spend it 'messing about on the river'? What has reminded me of all this is reading today about 'vole ladders' being installed on the Grand Union Canal at Hanwell Lock Flight, just down the road from where I live. It turns out that Ratty was actually a water vole and today they are endangered, not by weasels but by an invasive predator, American Mink. Apparently a colony of voles can be wiped out by just one mink, since many have been released or escaped from fur farms. These wooden ladders will give an existing colony of water voles access to newly-constructed floating islands on the canal which have even been planted with just the sort of vegetation that they love to eat and nest on. Oooh - it sounds positively Grahame-esque. I shall wander down there and imagine Ratty in his boat...... 

Spring forward

Tomorrow morning I will have to strictly remind myself to look forward to an extra hour of evening sunlight and not be grumpy about the loss of an hour's sleep, stolen away from me by the Summertime thief.  I am definitely driven by the Ancient Greek god of time, Chronos. His time is absolute and linear. He measures quantitative time and as described by Jay Griffiths on BBC Radio 4 this week, he definitely acts as a 'mini dictator' in my life, constantly controlling me from my wrist. Instead I should look to the Greek god of qualitative time, Kairos. Kairos is the good of timing, chance and opportunity. He lords it over 'living in the moment', taking time to be right now. I'm thinking about the 'pips' on the radio and how they 'spit out' from the ripe fruit of time which, in my case, has probably not been fully enjoyed as I race from one thing to another, clock watching. So my new season's resolution must surely be to try harder to 'live in the moment', smell the coffee, smell the roses and do all that other mindfulness stuff more often.  

Snowdrop Days

Today was the final day of Chelsea Physic Garden's popular 'Snowdrop Days' event and thanks to the winter sunshine across London, I'm sure visitors would have been there in droves, ending it all on a high. This week I had my own special snowdrop day when, meeting up with friends from the Garden, I was presented with an exquisite 'Galanthus Lyn' plant which is now safely embedded under a tree in my own garden. In the near future, it might also come in useful. The common snowdrop - not that my little beauty is 'common', you understand - contains an alkaloid, galanthamine, which has been approved for use in the management of Alzheimer’s disease. For some inexplicable reason, I forgot my bank card PIN number today and so had to go through the tiresome palaver of re-setting it. Maybe I need to start chomping on snowdrop bulbs to help jog my poor old memory. Only joking, of course, as in their raw form, snowdrop plants are poisonous. Just like daffodil bulbs which I read this week, are being carefully removed from sale anywhere near onions these days as folks might mistake them for onions with equally serious results. So let's keep our snowdrops safely at bay, enjoy their defiant fragility and welcome them as the traditional harbinger of spring.

School dinners

An article in The Guardian this week brought back some unpleasant memories for me about school dinners. Dinner time at my girls' grammar school in Derby was always full of jeopardy - it wasn't the main course but the 'eat it all up' pudding that worried me. I actually gagged on each one of the milk puddings - semolina, tapioca, sago and rice - each one nothing like the comforting sweetness of my Mum's home baked versions. And the inevitable custard was always lumpy and equally ghastly. I couldn't wait to reach the sixth form and so be allowed to take in a packed lunch - so grown up - and edible! 
I was very pleased therefore to read about the very good fortune of one school in east London which has employed a former restaurant head chef, Nicole Pisani, ex-Nopi in Soho, as its new cook. Nicole was recruited by Henry Dimbleby who not only co-founded the fab Leon restaurant chain but has also produced the new School Food Plan which takes effect from this month and which sets new standards for all school food. Nicole describes how excited she is by the challenge of producing dinners for only 92p per pupil - and that she's looking forward to working shorter working days than the back-breaking hours that had exhausted her. The list of some of the ingredients she had become used to in the world of chic restaurants baffled me: burrata, skordalia, yuzu, agrodolce - crikey, a million miles away from what she can afford over in Hackney, I expect. But I'm sure the kids will love whatever she serves up for them - and has to be better that what we had to force down in Derby.