One Woman Goes To ....

Squish, Squash

I don't know when squash started not to mean a glass of something orange accompanied by a colour clashing red Penguin but apart from carving pumpkins there are now Acorn, Spagetti and Butternut to choose from. So time for a bit of seasonal cooking ( although I note that my squash came from Greece where surely it is never Autumn but always glorious sunshine and singing Piers ) and make something to eat out of one. Treat or tricky ?

From the library, Gary Rhodes, 365. A huge book with a recipe for every day of the year. I think 365 is a tad unnecessary. Surely there are days when the most committed cook feels like toast and marmite ? Or in Gary's case a lovely plate of buttery crumpets. But great pictures, easy to read and follow and because I am the first person to have borrowed it no splashes or splodges.

( I am going to digress for a moment. For anyone who likes new things but is belt tightening or horn pulling I have two words - The Library. It's a bit like Primark etc in that you have to get a feel for when new stuff comes in but for no outlay you can take out lots of books and for a small amount, DVDs etc and if the book is not on reserve then you seem to be able to renew for up to 12 weeks and what with the romance going out of marriage after 2 years, 6 months and 25 days then 3 months of having a book by your bedside seems a fair ratio. )

Anyway on Page 72. Butternut squash soup. Seems to do exactly what it says on the ambitiously missing tin. First peel your squash. As I get to work this strikes me as what it must be like to peel the base of a table lamp. Peeled, cleaved in half and seeds removed I am left with something that has probably surpassed the potato as printing vegetable of choice in Orla Kiely style households. An onion and garlic follow. ( Could Mother Nature do a little bit of innovating on the packaging front ? If we are reconciled to the loss of the foil and wrapper on the KitKat then surely no tears need be shed over the loss of onion skins or the fiddly bits of garlic paper than will never come off properly).

So chopped, sauteed, simmered and blended , I have my soup. It's OK. It's a bit samey. It's very orange.

So no tricks. In fact exactly as you would expect a soup made and named after a very orange vegetable to be I guess.

Demons or Dockets

I can't be bothered with the details of the call that has landed Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand in the bird's nest soup. There's something about transcripts - be they Charles and Camilla or Squidgy that's too dull to read. It's like the print version of all those one sided calls you hear on the train or as I heard them described the 'have the dockets arrived in Uttoxeter yet?' conversations.

Although those don't usually involve 'Satanic Sluts'. So much of the world a mystery.

Anyway what I can't help wondering about is how is this being dealt with by J & R. Are they still talking to each other? Are they still allowed to talk to each other ? Or is it like when you and your best friend, the one your mum always had a downer on - 'they'll lead you astray, get you into trouble, and it's alright for them ...but it's different for you ...( I never got that bit ) and when trouble finally arrived - so did a lot of ' I told you so's and 'that's it's' and 'you're not to see them again, ever' and a few sharp questions aimed at testing my hearing and so on....And so some punishment or deprivation would be thought of, a period of awkwardness would pass and then you would be allowed to go back to being who you were before 'the incident' . Or does it not work like that in Celeb Land ?

And what if you are friends with either of them? What do you say? If you are Ricky Gervais you probably make some joke about - well at least I got to do my promo slot before this happened .

I was listening to Jonathan Ross on Saturday and he was quizzing a caller about what he and his wife got up to in the bedroom - but he went on too long and became tedious so I ended up turning the radio off which is a shame as otherwise he's fun and varied to listen to.

So whatever happens his obsessions will have to change. As will Russell Brands' presumably. The only problem is that contrite isn't funny. And if they aren't being funny then they become no more interesting than the destiny of the dockets.

Did she really just say that...

I am listening to an unabridged version of Clarissa Dickson Wright tell her life story in 'Spilling the Beans'. Awful and fascinating. She certainly doesn't believe in crying over spilt milk. For most of my listening time the main thought that repeats in my head is how she survived, let alone managed to sit in a studio and recount it all.

There are a few bits where I have had to hit rewind to make sure that I heard correctly. And yes I did. For example her father was a surgeon and Clarissa relates how over the course of his career he operated on a young Saddam Hussein, saving his life when he had a severely torsioned gut and later performed colostomy surgery for the Queen Mother. This is a book full of such 'fancy that' moments.

Very engrossing. If you have a long car journey or just a large pile of ironing to be got through and need an entertaining and anecdote rich companion I would take Clarissa with you.

Is this what Gordon longs to say...

A man on the train, conversing. Naturally I am only hearing one end.

Something, somewhere has gone awry. It seems a valued client is unhappy and is asking for some kind of financial recompense.

Someone from the-man-on-the-train's office has rung him to talk it over. Various numbers are tried for size, sometimes in different currencies, does it sound better in $ than euro. Whichever currency, it's agreed it shouldn't be more than £20k, 'not too much in the grand scheme of things'. ( If they needed my pennysworth, it didn't sound to me as if there was much of a scheme of things- let alone a grand one. But they were working in round numbers and so didn't .)

Eventually a number and the 'as a gesture of goodwill' plan were arrived at.

Satisfied the man settled back in his seat, relaxed and concluded ' well that should make it all Tickety Boo again'.

A world of complications

A small crowd gathers, quiet and still, their attention focused directly ahead. A little further back lurk a few stragglers, not wishing to appear to be part of the group but wanting to absorb the goings on from a distance. Other people walk by, pause, peer and then integrate themselves into the outer edges. The mood is a little anxious, uncertainty but also curiosity hangs in the air. Some look round for an authority figure, someone in uniform, someone in the know. But there's no one around to come to their aid.

A woman points to a nearby sign and reads it out loud but so quietly only her companion can hear. Frustrated, someone else speaks up. This time loudly enough for all, inner circle and oscillating outliers to hear. Momentarily all heads turn towards the speaker and then when he has finished, enlightened and emboldened swivel back to reappraise the situation. With outstretched arms and hands people begin to pick things up and someone starts incanting numbers. Adding then subtracting. On reaching a final tally they turn to the person standing next to them, seeking confirmation and collusion.

We may have given up on ever fully getting to grips with 'credit-default swaps' and 'collateralized debt obligations' but it seems that grappling with new concepts is going to be an ongoing requirement of the financial crisis.

The above scene was myself and other M&S shoppers trying to get our heads round the various combo's and permutations of the Dine for £10 offer.

Seems straightforward is off the menu for the time being.

All the days of the week

The Evening Standard placards tonight read Black Friday. I think this now makes a full house for financially Black weekdays.

Monday and Wednesday being in recent history and The Great Depression being a Thursday,having a breather on a Friday and then back to Black for Monday and Tuesday.

So as we head towards the weekend - here's to a technicolour Saturday and Sunday.

Dark Clues

I have borrowed a book from the library. It's a diet book. I flick ahead and come across a bookmark that a previous borrower has left inbetween the pages, around the halfway mark. The 'bookmark' is a neatly folded Green & Black's chocolate wrapper. Dark chocolate with cherries to be precise. One of my favourites. The previous borrower and I seem to have similar tastes. So what to make of the clue they left?

Was the wrapper from one pre-abstinence bar or is it a sign that in approximately 150 pages time I will be getting in the car to find a late night garage for that 'got-to-have-it-now-can't-wait-a-moment-longer-sod-the-diet-no-wonder-Posh-never-smiles' fix of chocolate.

There is no way of knowing.

Not so hot.

I know way too many people ( well, women) with a secret Cowell crush. Something to do with him being a 'real man' 'n all. But after last week - does a 'real man' wear a hideous Tshirt ( yes probably ), does he break out into an almighty sweat whilst sitting on a sofa listening to the singing/sobbing of 6 dream come truers ( no, should most definitely not ). ( It took that sweat patch to explain the sensible thinking behind Sinitta's golden girl get up. However it seems there will never be an illuminating explanation for Danni's Joanie turban.)

So can I recommend a real man alternative. From Jamie's Ministry of Food - Mick. Lives in Rotherham, works as a miner and has gone from never having cooked in his life to chopping, woking and cooking like a pro and having Jamie round to his for tea. Warm, charismatic and having worked underground for 30 years in hideous temperatures is never going to let anyone down with a spreading damp patch.

And with Simon out of the way it means we can spend the rest of this series indulging in our all new for 2008 crush - Cheryl.

Where you can find it ....

Random things that have made me laugh in the past few days:

Mark Radcliffe on Radio 2 'riffing' with an egg slicer. Jump by Van Halen and then Hotel California resulted in broken (not eggs but) strings. Can't wait to hear as he puts it 'a whole new oeuvre of egg slicer party classics' .

Ronnie Corbett's in the Guardian's Q&A. Asked 'Which words or phrases do you most overuse?' . Answered. 'When I am doing the monologue, I always say something, and I can't quite for the life of me think what it is'.

This from 3BT on the light at the end of the tunnel. I feel sure I should have heard it before. But I haven't. It's very funny and perfect to steal for those inevitable cost cutting conversations.

Today's Steve Bell. Those winking seals are the best.

When breathing in ...

doesn't work.

It's the Cinderella moment of mid-life. Not will the glass slipper fit. But will the winter boots you have set your heart on, zip up over your calf.