I’m at a crossroads. Not an emotional, sell-my-soul to the devil kind of crossroads – more the virtual, unsure where to go next kind. See I worked in Milan. I could spend the rest of my life drinking coffee or Negronis in Piazza del Duomo, but then I’ve recently booked tickets to fly out to Rome. We’re going as a family. We’re going at the end of March. So as you can imagine – there’s a lot for me to fit in on my Il Viaggio between Milan and Rome, as i travel along the length of the old boot. So what of this crossroads? Well, I know at some point I’m going to have to head south down the A1, but before then –
Monthly Archive:: January 2012
What’s in a word? Not just any word. I’m thinking of those descriptive words that are used to lure us in to parting with our money where consumer goods – in the main, food or drink, are concerned. You know the ones – they scream out of windows and sandwich boards – like beacons of assurance that their product is better than the ones sold next door. Homemade Artisanal Gourmet Craft The problem with such words is that they are subjective and rarely quantifiable. One cook’s homemade is another’s production line filling, stuffed in to a pre-made casing on site where no one lives. Usually it means that someone has had to use a peeler, a knife, even an oven – above a microwave. Though
Pour me a glass of vino rosso, sit me in a comfortable chair and ask me what my favourite film is. Truth is I don’t care much for films. I get bored quickly; fidgety – even quicker. So the thought of sitting through most films leaves me cold. But favourite films – that’s a different matter. As I swirl the wine around in the glass, pretending I know what I am doing – I’m letting it breath, right? – I will look up, with a dead straight face and say: “Either The King and I or An American in Paris”. Obviously there is a love for the Star Wars or Godfather series, but there is something magical that keeps drawing me back to the mesmeric
Amy reads the Daily Mail. My dad reads the Daily Mail. You, the reader, may have sent me a link to the Daily Mail’s website. You all do it for different reasons. Amy is that new wave of Daily Mail reader, who only picks out the online content about celebrities, fashion – Femail life stories of interest to female readers. The sort of articles that feature real life issues or reality TV, pop and film stars. What they are up to – why they may seem relevant to “our” lives. My dad reads the Daily Mail in its physical form. He likes the puzzle section. The Sudoku – the word games. Seeing as he works in a racially diverse environment – the fruit trade –
Forget Cotoletta alla Milanese, that greatest of all rebranded regional dishes (it was pork, originally, not veal) inherited from the days of the Austrian Empire – the perfect accompaniment to tonight’s Derby della Madonnia (AC Milan v Internazionale) must surely be a Negroni. There’s a good chance that you won’t have had a Negroni before. With ingredients that include Campari and Martini Rosso, it is both an acquired taste, and arguably of a time in the UK. That time being the 1970s. But then why am I recommending a drink made by a Florentine barman, upon request from a Count (Negroni), to strengthen his original cocktail of choice? Well, Campari is very much a local, Lombardy (where you will find Milan) invention – drunk everywhere
I have an idea. I’ll call it an idea as I think I’ve overused the word dream on this site – especially when composing yet another whimsical post for you all to read. The idea is to park a Fiat 500 in the ever-so-unglamorous location of the underground car park in Piazza Vittorio Veneto, Turin. We open a bottle of Prosecco and Aperol. I’ll pour two “smallish” glasses of Spritz, drink them with Amy, and once finished – pull out of the car park and head through the city towards the A4 Autostrade. From Turin, we will then zigzag our way from the top of Italy – down to a final destination of either Lecce, or the Isle of Sicily – depending on how adventurous
How old is too old to make new friends? Amy thinks that question sounds suspiciously like the opening to a “Sex in the city” episode. So whilst I dust myself off and try to recover some dignity, how about considering another question: Are you ever too old to make new friends? I’m 36. I joined twitter three years ago. That simple act of registration opened my life up to a host of new encounters – virtual and in the flesh. Some of those encounters produced friends, some remained virtual followers with mutual interests expressed through regular dialogue – others just faces in a crowd; of drinkers, tweeters, words. There’s yet to be a negative encounter – maybe the odd one where you realised that the
Happy – Sad Smile – Frown Good – Evil Calm – Angry Alive – Dead Good – naughty, bad, terrible, horrible, wicked, dastardly… Who would have thought that one of the biggest challenges faced during the Christmas period, would have been to decide how best we should approach a seemingly unending list of human emotions and traits – whilst watching a cartoon movie. I was looking forward to a Christmas spent watching films with Lauren, growing as she is – able to maintain enough of an attention span to sit through one of the many Disney classics. You will then understand my disappointment when the Disney Movie Channel was being rather selective – read: they want your money – in which classic movies they showed:
The thing about looking back is that at some point, you know you’re going to have to end up looking forward if you want to get anywhere. That’s why Janus has two faces. One face was to look back and remind you of the past, another to slag your mates of behind their backs. Sorry, I mean to look forward in to your future. No self-respecting blogger (do you know any?) can leave a review of 2011 without at least trying to dovetail a thought about 2012 on to their page as well. What better way then, than to use a similar series of themes as before, this time to highlight areas in which I can mould the next three days – before I forget,
Self Portrait – January 2012 The hair is at least three weeks too long. The stubble is much the same – but in terms of days rather than weeks. Even the eyebrows haven’t been looked at for a month at least. Grooming has clearly taken a back seat at this hectic time of year. The neck and jowls suggest a good time has been had; consumed. The facial expression is exaggerated. I tried to smile. I tried to look upbeat. I tried to catch Simon Blake off guard – but it just looked so false; unnatural if you will. But look at the eyes. The eyes are clear, crisp, sharp. They are the eyes of someone who has started the New Year fresh – no