bottom drawer

Over dinner two nights ago we came to a mention of the famous case of John Felton , the assassin of the Duke of Buckingham, who, when told that he might be tortured in order to reveal who had put him up to the deed, said "if it must be so he could not tell whom he might nominate in the Extremity of Torture. and if what he should say then must go for Truth, he could not tell whether his Lordship (meaning the Bishop of London) or which of their Lordships he might name, for Torture might draw unexpected Things from him." ( source ) Another source has him pointing the finger more ominously: "if I be put upon the rack, I will accuse you, my Lord of Dorset, and none but yourself." The judges were then consulted and "declared unanimously, to their own honour and the honour of the English law, that no such proceeding was allowable by the laws of England." This was the last time that an English writ for torture was attempted - in 1628. We remarked then that this w...

At lunch today my mother made a very traditional japanese New Year's food, which nevertheless I'd never had before. Mochi is a kind of rice cake that you get either fresh or dried - and traditionally is apparently eaten in soups around New Year. The dry stuff, which is what we had, looks like an inedibly rock-hard, dry square of fudge but then you put it in the oven or grill it, and it magically softens and puffs up, becoming something like a gooey ball of cheese with air inside it in texture, but obviously nothing like it in taste, which is a comforting toasted rice taste, a bit like the lovely sticky bits at the bottom of the pan when you burn it accidentally-on-purpose. Altogether it looks quite strange - but is really delicious in soup, when you put it, a bit like a croute, in the bottom of the bowl before the rest of the soup is poured on. It is quite sticky and apparently, every year in the papers you hear about lots of old people who choke on their mochi. Today we had i...

Cooking with one's parents is always a difficult task, and for me one of the most taxing things about Christmas. I start off with all good intentions abou being a co-operative, silent helper, but the combination of that parental trait to always treat your offspring as though they are five with my generally bolshy kitchen persona is never a comfortable one. I started off well, replacing any thought of Christmas presents with a basket full of food from London - cheeses from Neal's Yard (where I endured a 20 min long queue - why didn't I order in advance, given my office is literally above the shop?), Pierre Marcolini chocolate from Verde & Co ( Jeanette Winterson's shop), coffee from Monmouth , potted shrimps from the market, oranges, pomegranates and sharon fruit from my local Bangladeshi grocers, and my mother's special request - the small furry potato-like vegetables whose name I know not, but which are common to both Bangladeshi and Japanese cooking. I even ...

I came down to my parents' house in the country on the 23rd and its been a very quiet Christmas. Although the day itself involved some raucousness at lunch, the growing age of my cousins means that every year it gets to be more and more like a pleasant dinner party and less like the mayhem of my youth. We have also reached, finally, some agreement within my family about no longer needing to give or to be given presents. We've all got more than enough of everything we need, so apart from a stocking full of socks and edible treats, that was, thankfully, about all. I've been arguing this for years but as the child of the family I've always continued to receive vast armfuls of gifts and I'm grateful that this habit is finally wearing off. Today the snow finally arrived - we woke to a light fall glittering in the sun and then in the late morning while we were walking on the beach, we saw a dark cloud race in and suddenly the sky was white with huge flakes, the views alon...

It's not, let's face it, the best time to argue about America; around the turkey and booze, with my very left-wing family and myself, whose love affair with the USA has yet to end. I'm not sure how it started but I do know that I came perilously close to thumping my mother for a comment at an inopportune moment. How to defend, as I try to do regularly, a country that many of my fellow British citizens denounce as evil? My problem is chiefly that they are often right in what they say. When the charges of racism come up, for example, I can't say that no, there is none. When they say, vis-a-vis Bush-Kerry 04, that Americans vote on personality not policy, they are right. Anti-gay - tick. Religious in the face of reason - tick. Sometimes, in the thick of one of these arguments, I feel like I need a new AA - America-lovers Anonymous. 'Yes, I know its the most bigoted and stupid country in the world, but I just can't kick the habit'. My problem - and this does not...

I thought this was an especially welcome piece of blogging about the sensitive and difficult handling of local distinctiveness in the context of change, which is inexorable and, as Dan Hill says, "must be embraced so as to create an ally rather than an enemy". This is precisely the kind of approach that we constantly advocate and develop at our work here at General Public Agency - a creative approach to characterisation and identity, but founded in a genuine and layered understanding of place, culture (in the broadest sense) and the delicate, unique fingerprint of every area. Dan Hill is on the money, however, when he writes that "if the meaning of Savile Row is not inculcated into the next generations... then how much longer will Savile Row mean anything genuinely useful, even as a prime piece of real estate? It ceases to have 'added value' even to property developers in the long term." This is precisely the conundrum that developers are starting to reali...

There's nothing better than the ecstatic euphoria of scoring a goal against Chelsea - the noise, the rush of blood, the realisation that you are on top of the game. There's nothing worse than the deathly hush that descends on the stadium full of home fans when Chelsea scores against you. The Highbury Library indeed. You could have heard a pin drop in the North Bank while at the far end, the small away enclosure was full of figures jumping up and down, yelling to bridge the distance. Unfortunately the euphoria of the goal was an illusory pleasure, as it was disallowed, wrongly, for off-side. And we had to endure two of those dreadful, shivery moments of despair and silence. I'd never heard the stadium so quiet. What to say? Arseblog did, I think, get it entirely right. We needed big performances from the older team members - Sol and Thierry - and they were both quiet. Dennis, when he came on towards the end of the game when it was already too late, added a dash of energy an...

I received the Annual Record 2005 from my old college, Trinity , yesterday. The 'austere format' of this volume - the same each year, a pale blue with a monoprint of the college fountain on the cover in navy ink - always prompts both my curiosity and some reflections on my time at Cambridge. Seeing who has died, who has become a Fellow, who has got recognised for some appointment, academic or otherwise, or (in election years like this) been elected as an MP (Oliver Letwin, I see) is a strangely satisfying delve. This year, among other things I note that my old tutor got a Gold Medal from the Bibliographical Society , and that one of my contemporaries (who I knew was writing a novel) has evidently finished it, because she donated a copy to the library. But it also brings back to me the odd connection I have with Trinity. I read about the Annual Gatherings (where alumni from the same matriculation year get back together) and other events and realise how I am barely in touch with ...

I just realised that I haven't posted a thing on this blog since I returned from the States. Today I just got an urge to write about one little food-related thing and perhaps it is apt, for my first post-USA post, that it should be on American coffee. When I returned to England, I had a coffee soon after and it made me go crazy. I hadn't drunk a coffee that strong (and it was only a good filter coffee, not even an espresso) for so long, I got minor palpitations and felt rather light-headed. No wonder those early explorers were excited to discover this new drug. So I didn't drink any coffee at all for perhaps the first month, instead becoming a very Englihs tea-drinker, with a cup every couple of hours some days. But as my life got busier and I got more tired, I started to consider the amount of caffeine in tea to be a bit inadequate, and began thinking about coffee. I started having the odd filter from the wonderful coffee house just below my office - but they almost always...

It was a stunningly beautiful day today, as every Londoner noticed, I'm sure. Time for a proper walk - and while what I really wanted to do was go to Blackheath for a brisk one and a late pub lunch, I had no accomplices amongst my busy friends so instead I set off northeast, aiming to get to the the Lea River. The walk was many stages of parkland and Sunday football. Weavers Fields, my local park, was full of local Bangladeshis having matches in various stages of organisation. Then came the near side of Victoria Park, all beautiful mature trees, canal boats and strollers, with its edge of fine terraced houses that will, I'm sure, rival Holland Park prices in a few years. Crossing over the road, and the other side of the park is plainer, tower blocks on the horizon, with kids' football teams playing in impeccable striped kit and bellowing parents on the sidelines. Get to the other side, cross over the roaring A12 on a deserted cycle bridge and suddenly the land drops away in...

It's lovely to be back in the East End. Even while working far too hard over the last few weeks, there are little moments that remind me why I still live here despite the increasing crowds of scarily over-hipster teenagers. The main thing is being able to walk almost everywhere I want to go - to work, to play, to the river. Walking to work, means going over the Thames in the brilliant morning light, battling against the tide of humanity streaming across London Bridge into the City. Walking home again means meandering through the back streets of the City past the Lloyds building and the Gherkin, both lit up magically on these winter nights, strange and beautiful when the streets are empty. And enjoying all those reverberant street names around Aldgate - Jewry, Goodman's Stile, Crosswall. Having St John Bread & Wine as my local restaurant and off-licence is another good thing: bad for the wallet, good for making a happy heart. Last week we were in there for a supper after goi...

One for the geeks (or wannabes): Deli.cio.us has been taken over by Yahoo . For those who don't know, del.icio.us was one of the biggest innovations online last year and really revolutionised the way many people use the web, blog, read news and many other things. My 'ephemera' sidebar is enabled by deli.cio.us and it has become my essential online filing cabinet . Its had many imitators but its clean, absolutely simple interface has made it the winner in a world where community (i.e. number of users) really does mean success. I wrote about Yahoo vs. Google last year and my frustrations with the design (concept and visual) of Yahoo's service remains. I never use Yahoo to search. I still use Flickr despite its takeover but I use the uploader applet so I never really encounter the interface and its true to say that it hasn't changed that much. But in general, I am rather sad that lovely del.icio.us has given up to the behemoth. My feeling is that Google's design...

Apologies for my complete lack of posts recently. Life has been busy. Masses of work for the office and for school, house-redecorating and boyfriend-moving-in have left me with barely time to see a single friend, let alone spend a few well-earned hours typing for y'all's amusement. But now the boy's left for India for two months, I had my crit at LMU and I've finally had a lie-in; life's looking up. I've got the radio tuned to a local station playing Atlanta rap (reminders of Alabama) and a big cup of tea. Several posts to follow!