Is This a Roast Dinner?

If you ordered a Sunday Roast Dinner in an award winning restaurant costing £10.50 for one course would you be happy with the above plate of food? I wasn't.

That is a grilled pork loin chop. The three halves of pale and soft potatoes are not roasted. They have been boiled and turned in a roasting dish to add a bit of colour. Spinach was fine. So was the braised red cabbage. The teaspoon of gravy was a meagre offering. Where is the Yorkshire pudding? The apple sauce? The gravy boat? Traditional vegetables?

We were eating outside in the courtyard and once we'd been served there were no signs of any follow up waiting staff to ask and we couldn't be bothered to leave our food and go in search. Surely we shouldn't have to even consider doing that.

I have emailed the restaurant with my complaint and asked them if they consider the above is a Sunday Roast Dinner. I would have complained to the owners if they had been present but their team of young staff had been left to manage on their own and they were harrassed and overworked with that glazed eyed look of weariness.

Seemed to have spent a large amount of money eating out this weekend and apart from the excellent fish and chips its all been a disappointment.

Posh Fish 'n' Chips

Perfect Posh Fish and Chips. That little bit of a green splodge is a puree of mushy peas. Those Sumo chips were delicious. The batter on the fish was very light and crispy and the fish inside creamy textured and perfectly cooked. Home made tartare sauce meant I didn't have to ask for mayo on the side for chip dunking. The half a lemon had been flash heated on the grill so it didn't make the fish cold. Nice touch.

Well done The Bull Hotel.

Razor Clams

I ate these last night. They are razor clams. I will never eat them again. They are obscene.

BT Rant and Update

At 3.30pm on the 1st of July my BT Broadband connection wimpered to a halt. There was a glimmer of hope every half hour or so as the router connected. When it did connect it took over ten minutes to open a single webpage. Outlook Express 'Could Not Find Server'.

I began my telephone campaign to BT Broadband Help on the 2nd July. I thought this could take some time. It is now the 10th July and I'm still 'phoning them and I'm still not connected for more than five minutes and when I am it is painfully slow.

On the 2nd July, after five different technical advisors involving five individual 'phonecalls and all my security stuff repeated over and over, I was told it was my router - it was broken. We've tried three different routers since then. They can't all be broken can they? No improvement. During this three hours on the 'phone to BT an advisor commented that I was still on Classic Broadband with a speed of 2.2Mbps. Apparently I should be on a speed of about 8 Mbps.

Up until July 1st I was happy with this low speed. It all seemed fast enough to me - until that afternoon. Why haven't I been upgraded before?

I was given the BT Customer Sales number where I was told my BT Broadband would be updated on the 9th July. And this will cost less monthly than I'm paying at the moment. They tried to sell me a package involving televisions, telephones and hubs. I told the advisor I didn't want any packages and didn't need a new hub because on BT's advice I'd replaced it already. But of course it wasn't a BT Hub. It was a third party Hub. But you need a BT Router/Hub. I remained calm as I told him I had been using a BT Router, had been told it was broken by the technical advisor so had replaced it with a Third Party Router/Hub. And that as well as the three different Router/Hubs tested on my Home Networking System the original, allegedly broken BT Router/Hub wasn't broke. It worked as well, or as badly as the three test ones.

Surely the fault isn't here with me? It must be with BT Broadband? No, your line has been tested and it is fine. So I resigned myself to waiting for the 9th of July. All would be well. I would be zinging my way around the InterWeb at speeds faster than I could cope with.

A week is a long time to be disconnected. From the 2nd July until the 9th I have had to telephone bank. Pay some bills with a cheque and stick a stamp on an envelope. Go to the supermarket rather than an online Tesco Home Delivery. Couldn't do my dear Mum's Tesco shopping online for her home delivery 200 miles away. Couldn't buy a frock I don't need online. This way of communicating, doing business, socialising, shopping is integral to my way of living.

Might as well take the washing machine away and tell me I have to do laundry in the stream and bash clothes clean with a rock.

But of course this didn't happen. On the morning of the 10th my BT Broadband has not been upgraded. Nothing's changed. I am still limping along. So I begin 'phoning BT Broadband again at nine o'clock this morning. As of now I have spoken to six seperate BT Advisors. By the fifth I start to get a picture. The fifth tells me at last that There Is A Fault with my Broadband connection. Just like I've been telling them for over a week. That there is a fault and it is at their end and not here. They tell me their 'Offline Team' are working on it now. Is the 'Offline Team' men with ladders and vans?

I have just 'phoned BT Broadband again to get the latest information on my upgrade. The 'Offline Team' are not working on it right now. My upgrade is guess where? In a Flossing Queue. I have been given yet another new Direct Line to 'phone tomorrow - if perchance the fault hasn't been located and repaired - which will take me to Order Management.

I have a sheet of paper with at least one dozen BT contact numbers with titles such as Customer Options, Customer Sales, Direct Customer Options, Order Management, BT TV Management, BT Yahoo Broadband and so on..and on..and on.

Update to follow. And here it is.

Today 11th July I have been told by Order Management that the Equipment That Tests the Broadband is - yes - you've guessed it - It Is Broken. It Is Broken. Just like my Broadband has been broken since the 1st July.

Today 12th July: I phone Order Management at 9.00am. I am told my Broadband Can't be updated. Something about my line. I didn't ask for an upgrade I tell him. I just wanted my almost non-existent Broadband connection running like it was at 2.2 before July 1st. He tells me to phone Technical Help. No I scream. That's India. I can't go there again. He wishes me a nice day and the call ends.

I phone Customer Sales and begin all over again. I am asked to hold while she talks to a colleague. I hold. She has put me through to India and Technical Help. I faint. Repeat all my details for the hundreth time. I am in shock. I am asked to hold again while he talks to another colleague and when he returns he tells me he has spoken to Order Managment, where I was one hour ago. He tells me Order Management will upgrade my BB on Tuesday 14th July. How can this be? More lies?

So I phone Order Management again. I repeat what I was told at nine this morning and ask him to confirm what India has told me; that I will be upgraded on the 14th with an upgrade I haven't asked for because I only want what is broken right now mended. He confirms the first upgrade failed and it is booked for Tuesday the 14th July. Oh woe.

Meanwhile I have composed a very much tidied up version of this frantic Blog entry and am poised ready to send this less manic version to Ofcom and BT Complaints.

Afters

And this was my pudding at The Bath Priory. Rhubarb Plate. Under the lid of the white receptacle on the left is a rhubarb crumble. The shot glass is rhubarb and custard with lemongrass foam and a sorbet in the centre of the slate plate. I love dishes with the same ingredient prepared in different ways. This was fun to eat.

A tub of tulips on the terrace.

My Mystery Birthday Treat

foo

I knew we were on the road to Bath but where we were staying and having dinner was a mystery. I didn't know where until we drove up the crunchy gravelled drive and arrived at The Bath Priory Hotel.

This was my birthday treat. Bloke did the same for me last year when we stayed and ate at Baslow Hall in Derbyshire. And he pulled off the same surprise this year. Whenever we're going away I look up the hotels/B & Bs on TripAdvisor to get some idea of what we're in for. I like a bit of prior knowledge. This can raise or lower expectations. If it's going to be a surprise then let it all unfold. 

The photo above is our afternoon tea sat in the stunning lounge at The Bath Priory. One finger sandwich is missing because Bloke was in there eating before I got to get my camera out. Most of my What I Had To Eat photos have an image of his hand foraging for food and spoiling the look.

Later, sitting in the bar drinking a Campari and Soda and tasting canapes at seven o'clock before dinner Bloke said,

"There's the Chef"

It was Michael Caines OBE. That Chef. This was getting better by the moment. He is very good looking with a glossy complexion that shows he uses Products on his face. He is Executive Chef at the Bath Priory Spa Hotel and is only there for a couple of months and then moving on to run his expanding business empire called aBode

Worth following the link because he is expanding in the UK everywhere and after our great dining experience I certainly wish him well. He deserves success in the future. 

Here's my first course of Brixham scallops, veal sweetbreads, pea puree and morel veloute.

Here's my Rack of Lamb. It was stunning. In between we were served a demi-tasse of asparagus soup with such an intense flavour - essence of asparagus. 

The Bath Priory is a beautiful place to stay or just visit for an afternoon tea. Sit in their landscaped gardens. View the art work in the lounges and sitting rooms. 

Two sandwiches and two coffees at a motorway service station cost almost the same as afternoon tea here - in glorious settings and a sense of being pampered. 

This Jacket and My Income Tax

My accountant phoned me this morning to tell me The Inland Revenue are after my outstanding income tax payment that was due at the end of January. Mr Inland Revenue usually leaves me alone as I stagger through the year making a payment as and when I can. So I was surprised by this.

"Don't be" said accountant "The Treasury have told them To Get The Money In this year"

I phoned Mr Inland Revenue and promised another payment for next week and would pay the remaining outstanding amount in a few weeks time. I was told they needed a specific date for this payment as I am in danger of being sent a distress warrant to claim possessions to the value of this amount, plus a £40 penalty, plus interest.

I was fine with this until I saw this photo of Mrs Brown taken yesterday evening wearing a Graeme Black designer jacket that allegedly cost £9000.00. I shall write that in words. Nine Thousand Pounds. I've got a similar jacket, better than that, from Next and it did not cost Nine Thousand Pounds. More like £40.00.

So now I'm not fine with this demand. I am very miffed.

Should I be?

Family Tree

I met a Genealogist in Cambodia. As we chatted together she became fascinated with my family history. She feels it is important for us to know and understand where we come from in order to know and understand who we are. Why we are like we are. Maggie lectures and studies Genealogy professionally and  lives in Beijing.

I gave her two family names. One was my Grandfather's name. This is Luder - my birthname. The other was my Grandmother's name. This is Bluestone. 

My Paternal Grandparents were Polish and Russian. Maggie has since discovered passenger lists on the Aquitania leaving Southampton, destination New York, naming Harry Bluestone born in a town called Plock in Poland, aged sixteen in 1911 and my Grandmother's younger brother,  as a passenger off to seek a new life. 

The Luder family seem easier to track. I know my Grandfather came from a town, in what is now The Ukraine, called Gorodok. 

Sometimes family stories can be Urban Myths. Embellished to make them more interesting. More compelling. This family story is fact.

Around 1905 a young man was murdered in the town of Gorodok in the Ukraine. The officials of the town declared a Jew was probably the killer  and that it was alright for any Jew to be killed for no other reason other than revenge. 

My Grandfather, just a boy, along with his younger brothers and sisters, hid in the cellar of their home in Gorodok as an attacker with a sword aimed to kill them all. He took pity on them and instead  killed their cat and spread the blood around the house tricking any other intruders to believe The Jews had been killed. 

That's when The Luder family left and took refuge in the UK. 

I'm not much of  a family person beyond who matters to me in a close and a now way. My dear Mum, my daughter, my grandsons matter more than anything. Beyond first cousins would be too much for me as I am more interested in why and how or what strength of charactor and survival allowed my Luder and my Bluestone Grandparents  to make that journey to the UK with no money, belongings, no language and start again. 

I already knew and felt these strengths before I met Maggie the Genealogist from Beijing but somehow seeing all these facts trailed back, my own researching on the Interweb discovering the history of the towns where they were born and the horrors they escaped from have reinforced my belief in myself. Why I am like I am. Why I feel like I feel. 

Then, there is a startling fact that emerges from all of this. So far, all the towns, such as Plock, where they were all born or lived are on rivers. 

My favourite travel experiences are always on rivers. I love canals as well. I see there's a river trip along the Vistula where Leah Bluestone was born and her brother Harry.

I can sense one coming on.

Good Nosh

This was my first course in a lively new restaurant called Fennel at Whaley Bridge in The High Peaks in Derbyshire. It was a bit unusual because it was smoked, poached haddock with grilled  parmesan on a crumpet. I can imagine the kitchen was using the smoked salmon with cream cheese on a blini theme. It worked OK. Although crumpets should be served piping hot with loads of melting butter and perhaps doesn't lend itself to this sort of presentation as the crumpet was a bit soggy from the smoked haddock juices. Top marks for being inventive.

Here's my main course. Rack of lamb on a bed of crushed potatoes with a good gravy. I always order lamb when I'm in The Peaks because there are thousands of sheep roaming and grazing the hills and I expected it to taste good and it certainly did.

It was a great evening spent with Our Friends From The North. Lively. Plenty to talk and laugh about.

Fennel's has a sixteen -seater bus and it picks up and takes home diners whenever they want at no extra charge. Taxis are a bit dodgy around here as they often tend to charge for the journey to pick you up then add on your actual fare. Then they charge again for driving back to take you home and then again for your actual journey. I can't make sense of this at all. One weekend spent in The Peaks we were charged almost thirty pounds for a return journey to a restaurant in the next village - a fare that would have cost us a tenner here in Dorset.  

So it was wonderful to be picked up at the canal-side pub we were staying in overnight by the Fennel bus (beautifuly painted in Fennel Green) at 7.30 and then six of us taken to eat and drink as much as we wanted and then driven back home again. 

Well done Fennel.

Contrasts

I've often heard people who have been to India say they felt guilty as they traveled in luxury and saw the poverty that surrounded them. I have never experienced those feelings of guilt until Cambodia. Above is a picture of our cabin window and our wicker chairs on the deck. A private and luxurious place to sit and watch The Mekong as we sailed along.

These are the houses families live in along The Mekong Delta. In the rainy season the Mekong rises and the stilts are hidden under water. I didn't feel too guilty as there's not much I can do about our contrasting lives. I did buy as many locally made souvenirs as I could. I did take all the toiletries supplied in the bathroom on the boat and give them to the local women every day.

During our three day stay in a hotel in Seam Reap while we explored Angkor Wat my very cheap New Look watch strap broke. I chucked the strap into the bin in our hotel room and kept the watch face on my bedside table.

I went into our room while the girl was cleaning it. I apologised for disturbing her and said I'd come back later. She called me back and excitedly showed me my watch. She'd seen the strap in the bin, got some glue and mended the strap, fixed it to the face so the watch looked as new.

I can only hope she thought I'd accidently thrown the strap away. Not that I thought it was a cheap, throw-away item. Then I really did feel guilty.

Jenni Didn't Titter

Did anyone else hear Jenni Murray interviewing Sir Bob on Womans Hour, Friday 6th March at ten in the morning?

She said to Gedorf,

'I hear Iran has an erection coming up soon.'

I waited for a Giggle Explosion but there wasn't one. Sir Bob replied as if she'd said 'Election' and Jenni continued the interview. I assumed it wasn't live and must have been edited out because it was so funny and the sort of gaffe that would have had the studio cracking up with laughter.

I Am Being Frivolous

I imagine as we all get older we have a Bucket List. Things we must do Before We Die. My Bucket List doesn't include travel because I've done that and still doing it and if I had to stop now I wouldn't be saying 'I wish I'd been to China, Cuba, Africa, Russia' and so on because I have. If I had to spend future holidays in a hotel in Torquay gazing over Torbay waiting for somebody to bring me my medication my memories would be with the exotic destinations I have visited. Those memories will keep me going.

But, I've never owned a designer handbag. I have always scorned those with a desire to own a designer handbag. I do have a cupboard full of handbags bought from the high street. Not a designer handbag amongst them. Not until in a Mad Menopausal Moment at Heathrow on our last holiday to Vietnam and Cambodia when I found myself handing over a fistful of sterling to a disinterested sales-person in the Mulberry Outlet. I felt faint. What was I doing? I love my Mulberry bag. I don't need anybody else to recognise it as An Expensive Designer Handbag. Owning one is in my Bucket List. So that's ticked off.

Then there's a Manicure. When I owned my first Hairdressing Salon I sent one of my apprentices to Revlon in London for a one week training course. It was an expensive week for me as I had to pay her, her travelling expenses and the training, and a temp to fill her space, but her new skills lifted my business and my weekly takings went up. She was so busy there was never enough time for me to have a manicure. Why do my nails when she could have a paying customer.

This afternoon I ticked off another Bucket List item. I've had something wonderful done to my nails at Beauty & Beyond in my local High Street. The charming Amanda worked on my nails for one hour and transformed my fingertips with tips and gels into things of beauty. I can use my keyboard in comfort. My hands look and feel elegant. I shall have them Filled in two weeks time and that'll take half an hour. Half an hour every two weeks is a lot less than I've spent in the past fussing about them. Buying nail products that haven't worked. Chipped nail colour and dodgy cuticles.


So what next on the List? I'm going to buy something from this wonderful Scandinavian clothes catalogue. These are clothes way out of my comfort zone. As well as my price zone. They are organic and artistic. Soft and fluid.

I'll let you know.

Would You Drink These?

Three Christmases ago I bought this evil Vodka. Those things inside the bottle are Infernally Hot Peppers. We all had a shot glass of it and none of us could speak for hours. It is truly horrendous.

So when I saw this bottle of spirits in a shop in Cambodia complete with a dead snake inside I thought of my bottle of Inferno and pondered - if I was forced to drink from one of these bottles which would I choose.

I hope I never have to choose.

New Glasses

I still need two pairs of glasses. One pair for reading and another for driving and watching the television. I don't need glasses for walking about - yet. But the prescriptions are getting closer so I reckon in two years time when I have my eye test they'll tell me I need one pair with graduated lenses. That's OK because this 'buy one set of designer frames and get one free' will mean I can have a pair of prescription sunglasses as well so that I can read, drive and walk about wearing shades. And have a glass of wine in the pub during the day wearing shades because I need to see.

I love my new red glasses. They match my lipstick.

I thought I'd focus on the children who live in the villages along the Mekong Delta. They live in bamboo  houses built on stilts. At high tide and during the rainy season their houses are at water level so they step out of their front doors directly into their boats. During the dry season and at low tide they walk down the wooden steps onto dry land.  They are very poor. The river is their life. They fish, they dredge, they harvest silt, sand and wait for tourists to disembark from their luxury Colonial River Cruisers and sell them stuff. These children are irresistible. 

"Hello. You have dollar? You buy my scarf?"

I bought seven scarves for twenty dollars. I asked our guide if they were made locally. She said

 "Mostly"

Back on the boat a fellow passenger said she'd bought identical scarves in TopShop and they were made in China. 

These little boys were selling a tray of six homemade cakes for One Dollar. I said I wasn't hungry.

"You not hungry? I'm hungry. Baby hungry. Buy my cakes. One dollar"

I didn't buy their cakes but I gave them five dollars.

I didn't buy their cakes because there was a sign at the entrance to their water village on the Mekong saying

"Do not buy cakes from the children because they are made with out of date ingredients and you will get colic if you eat them"

I did give them five dollars because my youngest grandson is about the same age as the oldest little boy in this photo. This Christmas my grandson bought himself an electric guitar with his Christmas money. It cost him £175. He still has to learn how to play it. 

This little boy has nothing. He's trying to sell me cakes that could hospitalise me. He, and his sisters, is likely to be sent away to work in textile factories in Cambodian cities. Sent away to work in a tourist hotel in Ankar Wat. To clean hotel rooms. In the kitchens. They are children. I try to imagine my grandsons being sent away from home at this tender age to work in a factory. I can't visage this without hurting.

These two pretty little girls were eating raw sugar cane for their afternoon snack. They are poor. As we approached their village they ran up to the men in our group, all aged over fifty, and asked them if they could teach them English and "Have you got a wife?"

The men felt uncomfortable. Understandably. 

The Killing Fields

If I had been told in the 1970s that one day I'd be travelling through Vietnam and Cambodia on a luxury river boat I would have said this was madness. May as well tell me I'd be holidaying on the moon. So throughout this trip I had to keep telling myself this was real. I was there. Although I have titled this The Killing Fields I don't feel ready to write about this experience yet. I've been to Auschwitz and Birchenau death camps and thought I was prepared for the horrors the gentle, warm and friendly Cambodian people went through- but I wasn't. Instead, here's a picture of me resting under a palm tree near Phnom Penh, shading myself from the intense heat and humidity. The Killing Fields must wait.

This is the boat, the RV Tonle Pandaw, that was our home for eight days on the Mekong Delta. This was the best river boat we've ever been on as it was a replica of the colonial steamers developed in Scotland by the Irrawaddy Flotilla Company in the early part of the last century, yet all built in the last ten years in Rangoon and Saigon. There were just thirty cabins on two decks with a mixture of passengers of all nationalities including Australians, Dutch, French, German, Canadians and Americans. Over half of the forty passengers were from the UK. We all seemed to be intent on spending what we've got and enjoying it rather than saving for that rainy day. We journeyed 565 miles upstream from Saigon in Vietnam to Siem Reap in Cambodia, making side trips in small boats through back-waters and wetlands, where we disembarked and spent three days visiting the temples at Angkor Wat.

The boat was superbly fitted out in varnished teak and brass. The cabins were very comfortable with divine air conditioning as well as perfect showers. The upper observation sun-deck served tea, coffee, soft drinks, local beer and gin, whiskey, rum and brandy from six in the morning until whenever. All free. This was a very pleasant surprise as we usually run up a hefty bar bill at the end of our river cruises so it was a first for us - drinks included. I was a bit wary of the Local Gin until I tasted my first one and it was as good as a Gordons.

More to come.

This Is Not My Hand

There is so much to say about our wonderful two week trip to Vietnam and Cambodia, including one week cruising up the Mekong Delta in a Paddlesteamer, so I thought I'd begin with the spiders. And this isn't my hand. I couldn't do that. Never. We are in a Spider Market in Cambodia. That huge spider is about to be deep fried and served with fresh garlic and then eaten.

This is a bucket full of deep fried spiders. And they aren't my pink Crocs or floral pants either. Several Brave Brits actually nibbled on the deep fried spiders. Just the legs and declared it was like eating garlic flavoured matchsticks. Not one of them was bold enough to eat the body. Can you imagine that? Soft and squishy spider body.

I suppose if I was hungry enough. No. I'd rather eat the pink Crocs. Which reminds me. I did eat Crocodile Tail for dinner in Cambodia and guess what? It tasted just like chicken.

View Through a Glass Bathroom

Look closely at the image above. Yes, its a hotel bedroom. The Continental Forum Hotel in Sibiu, a beautiful medieval city in Transylvania, where we stayed for two nights in September 2008 as part of our Tour of Romania. 

See that glass apparition  on the right? That is the glass bathroom.   Can you see the lavatory on the left? Sort of hanging with no visible means of support.

This was our third hotel as we travelled through Romania, Transylvania and Moldavia. The previous hotels had been Stalinist Soviet Cement Blocks, Romantic Castles once belonging to Aristocratic Romanian Gentry and a converted post office in Bucharest. Quite a variety, all charming and comfortable, but we were looking forward to a couple of nights in a prestigious modern hotel for the contrast. 

First impressions as we entered our room were great. The room was large, clean and very comfortable looking with good lighting and mirrors everywhere - and then we saw the bathroom. The bathroom was made of glass. Some of the glass walls were slightly frosted, but not all of them. What were the architects thinking of?

We were a group of sixteen. When we met the others in the hotel lobby bar before dinner the main topic of chat was The Glass Bathroom. The two elderly gays who'd been a couple since the 1960s were distressed at the lack of privacy. Two blokey mates said they thought they knew everything about each other until then. The couple who'd been married for forty years didn't like the concept even after all thsoe years of sharing.

One man travelling on his own had his glass bathroom situated in the centre of his single room and because of all the walled mirrors  could see himself from all angles as he sat there and was grateful for travelling alone.

Modesty and Morty aren't usually words used in the same sentence but that night after dinner as he ventured into the Glass Lavvy even he said 'Don't look!'

I tried not to look but wherever I settled my eyes there were mirror images all reflecting images of personal ablutions. I hated it. I imagined this being our first travelling experience together; charged with the secrecy and excitement of getting to know each other intimately. No chance of that in a Glass Bathroom. There were no secrets.

Nothing To Do With George

I'll drink cheap wine all the time. Although I would prefer to drink expensive wine all the time. But I won't drink cheap coffee. Maybe because after the first couple of glasses of cheap wine I don't notice the taste? But cheap coffee tastes nasty down to the last drop doesn't it?

I have a graveyard of coffee machines and coffee makers. Even the stainless steel cafetiere let me down. Took ages to push the plunger down and more than once hot coffee shot out and burnt my hand. My Bialletti Stove Top Espresso was great to start but eventually made coffee that tasted like mud. Plus it wouldn't unscrew for pouring without a struggle and I've burnt worktops with the scalding base -perhaps after drinking cheap wine.

Filter coffee makers are full of promise but who wants stewed coffee kept warm on a hotplate? Percolated coffee is grim. And all of them leave me with used ground coffee to get rid of. I don't have a compost heap so they had to go down the kitchen sink. Not keen on all that.

We were waiting for  our car to be serviced at a main dealer and had a complimentary coffee from their self service coffee machine. I expected it to be ghastly. They usually are from machines. It was wonderful. It was a Nespresso. I watched one of the staff open the top of the machine and fill it with what I thought were individual milk capsules. No, they were Nespresso coffee pods. Just like George advertises. So we bought a Nespresso and the coffee is divine.

As well as the neat and funky coffee maker, included in the price was a Nespresso Aeroccino, a stainless steel cordless jug for heating and frothing milk for Latte and Cappuccino. 

I won't go into detail about how it works but for 25p a coffee pod I can now have the perfect cup of coffee at home. There's no mess. The coffee is as good as any I've paid three pounds for in Speciality High Street Coffee Houses. 

 

The coffee pods are only available at the moment from the Nespresso website  

I ordered fifty pods and they arrived two days later. There's a fine variety of coffees to choose from. If we are supposed to be staying At Home during The Recession then cheap wine and good coffee makes it a lot more inviting.

But that's daft. We're both old enough to have lived through Recessions in the 70s, 80s, 90s and done our share of staying in and economising. In the 1970s I even stopped ladders in my tights with clear nail polish so I look presentable for work. I've cooked enough Scrag End of Lamb Stews. Made a chicken last a whole week. Roasted- cold cuts-a pie-then boiled the carcass and made soup. Stripped the bones for a chicken curry. Saved sixpences in a Dimple Whiskey Bottle until there was enough in it for a night out. Worn cardigans and thick socks to bed to keep warm and save on heating bills. Survived power cuts, three day weeks, 19% interest, soaring inflation, raging Bank Managers without pausing for breath. 

So no saving money here. What for? We must spend it and support local high street shops, buy tickets for local entertainment venues. Do Pub Quizzes and buy a few pints and drink expensive (cheap wine) wine that costs as much for a glass as a Supermarket bottle. Shop online for Nespresso Coffee Pods. 

Here's to cheap wine, excellent coffee and no Scrag End of Lamb.

Jamie's Italian

The streets of Bath were deserted on Sunday evening. We strolled from our hotel in Queen Street, the beautiful Haringtons Hotel, into Milsom Place for a meal at Jamie's Italian.

And we hit a queue! We joined it. This queue was for a table at Jamie's Italian on a freezing cold night. Jamie's Italian can seat over two hundred people - and there was a queue. Could the hype be true?

In seconds a staff member came outside and took names, number of expectant diners and told us it would be ten minutes before there would be a table free in the bar and a further forty minutes before we could expect to be shown to a table. Normally we'd walk away from a situation like this. There are hundreds of restaurants in Bath. But we stayed.

Within ten minutes we were sitting in the bar area with drinks. I was in awe of the place. The decor, ambience and buzz were overwhelming. I felt as if we'd walked off the street onto another planet. One sip of our drinks and on the move again to our table passing cooking areas, hanging hams, cheeses and what seemed to be hundreds of chefs, waiting staff and other diners. Electrifying.

Menus were instant (have a look and be impressed) So were the carafes of wine. The menu was laid out in such a way it was very easy to order. So we started with bread, olives and salted roasted almonds while we chose our main courses, bypassing the Antipasta courses.

Above is my main course of lamb with mint pesto. It was the most delicious lamb I have ever eaten in my whole life. The first picture is of crispy polento chips. Historic. In the picture are chick peas.

Above are just some of the in-house breads.

There are the olives on ice cubes with music bread - more like matzas - and the almonds. Tap water on the table without having to ask. Every mouthful was memorable. The prices are Cheap. Service is Perfect. The decor and lighting is like something from a film set.

Go. Go to Bath. Stay at Haringtons. Walk round the corner to Jamie's and wish you had one in your town. I wish restuaraters in my town paid a visit to Jamie's to see how it can be done and came back to give us the benefit of their experience. It's all so simple really.

And it isn't a hype - it's all true.