Hats On!
December 10th, 2010
The party season is gaining pace and chances are that sometime soon you too will be treading the boards at some festive soiree. It could be a dainty drinks do with mince pies and mini puddings, lots of egg nog and sparkling bubbles. Or it might be a bash for the office, with people perched around the photocopier, sipping cocktails from plastic cups. Or you could be headed to a debonair dinner, all starched silver service and cranberry sauce.
Citrus Centre
December 9th, 2010
Christmas dinner is a time for tradition. Often to the point of stultification. I know that in our household, if my poor Mum so much as thinks about buying in a pudding or by-passing the roasted winter root vegetables, there are upheavals and uproars that would make a roomful of raucous toddlers blush. Brits especially like Christmas the way it’s always been, with dinner on the table by two, and every element of the feast formatted by the ages-old rule book. That is, unless Heston Blumenthal can have his way. Because, believe it or not, the celebrity chef famed for his crazy creations such as snail porridge and bacon and eggs ice cream has come up with an all-new Christmas pudding that’s putting the boring old traditional type right in the shade.
Say Whaat?
December 8th, 2010
Consider – if you will – the following:
1. You are offered a brain pill that will make you 10% more intelligent, but you will seem 20% less intelligent to everyone else. Do you take this pill?
2. You have won a prize, which has two options, of which you can choose either (but not both). The first option is a year in Europe with a monthly stipend of $2,000. The second is 10 minutes on the moon. Which do you choose?
3. You wake up inhabiting Bruce Springsteen’s body. Your voice sounds just like his, but your musical ability is still entirely your own. You are scheduled to perform in a huge concert that night. What do you do?
The Open Road
December 7th, 2010
Free travel is just one of the peak perks of art: in the course of this year I’ve been to places I’m not sure I’ll see before I expire. A portfolio of painted pictures at the NGA have broadened my horizons and I’ve a few more pit-stops on the choo-choo train before we screech to a halt on Dec 31. I’m taking us into the heart of America today, with two artists who capture this country’s rural charm with disarming visions. Both Grant Wood (1891 – 1942) and Thomas Hart Benton (1889 – 1975) resisted the trend towards abstraction that dominated American art in the 1920s and 30s: instead they stuck to the figurative convention, reflecting life in more realistic terms.
Street Scrapping
December 6th, 2010
Husband and I braved the hordes yesterday for some full-on Sunday shopping. First we hit a market shop for seasonal must-haves such as glögg to glug, marzipan mini-sweets to set on breakfast plates, fuel for cheese fondu burners and tissue for arts and crafts projects. Then it was onto the next of our to dos: at the garden centre we tittered about to tree or not to tree, and opted in the end for a frothy wreath, a sprig of kissable mistletoe and some beauteous beeswax candles. Last stop was Merriment in Georgetown, where people pushed and prodded to get a couple of seconds on Santa’s knee or a free horse-drawn carriage trot after an hour in the cold. Hands were heated by small cups of signature hot cocoa and people hoovered hot-dogs and dough-nuts to keep on their feet in the madness of the melee.
Saint Nicked
December 5th, 2010
Being born Dutch and bred in Britain had some big bonuses for my siblings and I. Quite aside from the opportunity for bilingual ability and the hatching of two European cultures, each December we got a duo of seasonal saints. That is, for a few years, when we were of the age to believe and sharp enough to call on our dual national influences when it mattered the most, we celebrated St. Nicholas on the 5th and Santa 20 days later.
Hungarian Siberian
December 4th, 2010
No sooner had the ink dried on our house settlement papers than Husband and I had shaken on our own new-place pact: we had to have a hound. Brilliantly, it was me who came up with the best breed for us (having for the longest time been the one on the doggie back-burner), and I hit on the Hungarian Vizsla in a round-about way…
