So it is now only one more sleep until I hit the sunny shores of Tunisia for a well deserved three-day lie-on-the-beach/pool/bed/recliner holiday. Being as ridiculously geographically challenged as I am (I don’t think I’ve ever taken a geography lesson. I vaguely remember having to take Social Studies in Year 9, which in all effects and purposes should cover geography and history, but all I remember from that class was an unhealthy obsession with all things Egyptian, and an even unhealthier obsession with Stargate and pondering the gender identity of Jaye Davidson – the jury’s still out on that one), up until about a month ago, I thought Tunisia was in Europe. Anyway, Google Maps told me otherwise. Tunisia is actually in Northern Africa, right up there next to Algeria and Morocco, and a stone’s throw from Italy’s south coast. At least it’s close to Europe. There was a time when I thought the Caribbean was in Africa. Shame.
It’s my brother’s birthday tomorrow, and although I’m 110% certain he has no idea this website exists, here’s a birthday shout-out to you, dà zhū. That’s mandarin (pinyin, for the anally retentive amongst us) for big pig, because ever since I was a bub, and probably because I was such an obscenely fat baby (yep, your regular run of the mill two-foot tall michelin man), he’s called me xiǎo zhū. For those of you playing at home, yes the answer is A. little pig. And being the genius of the family, we really should have listened to the prophecies of this little boy, because really, now at five-feet tall and eating my way around the globe, I think I can still be batched, labelled and categorised pretty accurately as xiǎo zhū.
We spent Saturday afternoon loitering amongst the antique at Portobello Market, trying to avoid breathing in mothball fumes while really trying to avoid being hit by oncoming traffic. Is there a reason why Portobello Road is still open to traffic on the weekend? Because, really, the antique age of antique buyers is already a force of nature against their ability to move quickly, and yet they are also expected to first identify and then dodge the numerous oncoming black cabs? My little twinkly toes were almost flattened by the tyre of a ruthless cabbie, and just to think, if that was a little old person who was flattened instead, or god forbid – one of the many chihuahuas scampering along the road! (Is it a concern at all that I am more worried about chihuahuas than the little old people? Hmm, no, I didn’t think so).
… ok maybe not for breakfast. But if there is one cuisine that I can have continuously without getting sick of it, it would have to be Thai. Pad thai, to be specific. So last night, when we were looking for something to eat before heading to see Star Trek (which by the way was awesome, guys), what did we do? We did Thai.
This blog has been alive now for one full week. Eight and a half days to be precise. And I am still utterly floored that wordpress lets me do so. many. things. that blogger just does not. And also revelling in the fact that now that I am the proud owner of a blog about food, I have to, it’s now actually my duty to (and not just cos I want to, clearly) go out in search of everyday delicious goodies to share with the rest of the glutton world!
London has been experiencing an unusual bout of summer lately with temperatures reaching well into the high twenties, and public annoucement systems advising the townsfolk to keep hydrated amidst this “heat wave”. Coming from the sunbaked shores of Australia, I can attest that this most certainly is not a heat wave. But it is warm, and it does provide an excuse for me to visit Itsu for its delightful frozen yoghurt three days in a row this week.