One Woman Goes To ....

Vent on Vend

Someone at work is absent. Our department is vending machine backup. This is an undertaking that has none of the horror but all of the tedium of a Celebrity Jungle task.

Filling the spirals gives a whole new take on confectionery characteristics. Coke cans are a breeze. Solid chocolate like Mars or Snickers, as long as you remember to lay them gently backward, are easily handled. They have no aspirations to be the Eddie Eagles of the vend world.

Trickier products are those where bag acts as both packaging and protective cushion , a ready inflated airbag for the knocks life inflicts on the likes of crisps and Maltesers. The bags for Maltersers do not contain as much air as those for crisps but the store cupboard must be slightly warmer than their ideal ambient temperature so they melt a little and then clump, so that when you need to slide them nicely into their spiral,they all sit, stuck stubbornly together at one end of the bag, like little chicks huddled under an infrared lamp and only the firmest of shakes will sort them out. However in the chocolate covered stakes their popularity remains undimmed, up there with KitKats and Snickers. Shortbread fingers on the other hand remain like nervous divers, always peering over the edge but destined never to jump. Perhaps we have become too accustomed to having them as free accompaniments in B&B hospitality sets to contemplate parting with money for them.

Crisps are the fastest selling and most irritating refill item. Whilst some can be eaten as crumbs rescued from the corners of the bag by a wetted finger you don't want your whole bag to look as it it's a dust buster demo prop. Some you want to pick up between finger and thumb and crunch as loud as crisp accoustics allow. This means a lot of air and an unwieldy bag to manoeuvre into position.

So next time you curse the filler upper who allowed an empty spiral to appear at the head of the orderly Twix queue, resulting in a forward shuffle but no drop in return for your 50p, remember they may have had more to contend with than you might realise.

Read My Chest

A guy walks past wearing this . It makes me laugh. He looks too young to be heading up the aisle anytime soon. Maybe he is just setting out his stall early. Or maybe he is just hoping a disorderly queue of those who think they will be The One will form , intent on getting him to change his mind.

What's up Doc ?

I am waiting outside the Doctor's Surgery in an assorted queue. As I work up in town I am booked into one of the precious commuter clinic slots. This is marketing speak for an early morning appointment. While we are waiting for the door to be unlocked the Doctor rushes in, past us. I am his 2nd appointment and when I am called through it doesn't look as if he has yet managed to drink any of his cup of tea.

Today I am to learn a couple of things about my Doctor . First we are the same age. I have been registered here for many years and have never thought about how old he might be. As The Doctor he is just naturally older. An indeterminate age that puts him somewhere between older than me and younger than the 'very early for their appointments' pensioners who always sit patiently in the waiting room. Today with this new information I look at him as The Person instead of The Doctor. I see we could be the same age. He shares this information as we both peer at his screen,noting that my weight has been creeping, upwards. He tells me that he has lost a significant amount since January by working out and now he has a daily routine he can't imagine life without exercise. We agree this is a good thing.

My second surprise is that he only took notice of the fact that he had put on weight and decided to do something about it because his mum pointed it out to him at Christmas .

Thoughts of all the NHS and Government initiatives on fat and fitness cross my mind. It would appear that none, even if you are a health or medical professional, is as effective as a poke in the tum from your mum whilst digesting your 2nd helping of Christmas Pudding !

Observing The Observer

Mariella looks different but the same. Kathryn looks different and not the same. The Observer Magazine has had a mini makeover and so have its women. They may not have had a makeover in the way that we have come to understand makeovers. Entry level - belt cinched. Top end - being put out and under. But they have been liberated from photo booth sized snaps and now stand tall on the page - columns within their own columns perhaps.

Kathryn Flett has a hint of The Hamptons about her. The glimpse or suggestion of a chignon, a few glints of restrained jewellery mixed with fresh Gapesque cottons, off set by double stiched, riveted jeans less we forget the edgy,heady days of The Face and Arena .The exorcism of the Christine Keeler in black look is a success.

Mariella Frostrup is a full length study in elegant grey slouchiness. Texture,the substitute for colour. Her past seems only just there - peeking out in deep red nails and the white toe caps of what would formerly have been known as daps.

Both look good and their columns top and tail the magazine with a relevance and wisdom that surely demonstrates the poster children of the 80s were always absorbing more than hair gel.

Italian Finale

Chocolate meringues. A thoughtful supper gift. Four, wrapped in scrunchy cellophane and tied with blue ribbon from Carluccios, www.carluccios.com. These are not snowy white Snowdonian peaks . These owe their character to their Italian heritage. Marbled with chocolate, like the finest end pages of a Florentine notebook and with a rugged Dolomite structure ,they demand more than a hulled strawberry and whipped cream to keep them company. We put them in wide shallow bowls and around one side drizzle rich raspberry coulis, the colour reminiscent of Nancy Dell 'Olio's Downing Street catsuit and on the other,double cream . Deliciously crisp and chewy at the same time we keep adding polite spoonfuls of cream to our bowls until we give in and pour straight from the carton. It would seem that what a stack is to Swedish heels , cream is to Italian meringues.