Felicitations!

Today is a very special day in BabyGotBrit-land. A sort of "national holiday" as it were: it is the joint birthday of two of my most special people and of BGB's most prolific readers!

So Happy Birthday, Joyeux Anniversaire, Feliz Cumpleaños to My Mum and Miss Spitfire.

Hope you're both having a lovely time in your respective cities. I will look forward to talking with you shortly...

x x x

hopeactually

Essay is not really any further along what with having had to postpone French work a whole week till yesterday evening. Today has been one of slowly waking up to the world following lots of presentation pressure, only to be submersed again tomorrow in a land of distraction, study and imminence.

Miss Spitfire came over to see me at the weekend, much to my delight. And indeed salvation, I would not have been able to survive if it were not for her... Really wakened me up to my inbuilt issues with self-reliance, that visit did. I got over it enough to submit, albeit legalistically at times, to God but to surrender myself to the support of others has been *quite* uncomfortable. I can talk all day about community and interdependence and how God provides for me through people but when the shadows creep in, the computer crashes an hour before or the mind is just not even pretending to cope anymore one tends to "forget" how to put the words into action. Needing help made me downright angry, allowing it to happen just felt like absolute crap.

Yet I need to get over that I know it. So, vulnerability rears it's not actually ugly just not "conventionally accepted" head and reminds me of my fallibility. Who am I to try and cope alone anyway? Even Jesus didn't do that.

Godwise? Lots of thinking, even *some* clarity coming there. Issues being raise up, semi-answers sort of fall into place... now is no time to try and talk about that as I have a week and a half to go before I can justify the deep expounding of anything in a non-mathematical area (and even then it would probably be a bit of a long shot). I think am the best I've been since the very start of the year (where if you recall I was actually feeling excellent till it all fell apart literally overnight) and reckon, perhaps, that all the "of the world" trials have helped me to draw near to God in reliance - like a teenager that is angry at their parent but really needs a lift to the pub. Sort of.

'Cause what I have been doing is getting increasingly angry, mostly at Him, and yesterday that really culminated like some kind of inflamed pustule. I pretty much decided that I was fed up of the life I was being subjected to, the constant battle it seems to be to get anything done or to see any progress and how really I was just not up for it anymore... so I popped. My new red glasses have an interesting and even newer shape that testifies to this fact. The strange thing was that as I expressed this I knew, deep down, that it would be OK and that actually God did know what I could bear, He would get me through it and I was going to be OK nay perhaps even better off. Not actually a good feeling I have you know, very much like a teacher that has this "I know best" look and you don't want it to be true but it just is.

Thing is, I can't shake the hope. Despite the fear I have always had this hope and, as God became a consistent feature in my life, it became more and more fulfilled. Nay, turned into faith a little, perhaps. Sometimes you want to indulge in the misery of it all but really, deep down, there is this hope. And, as I shake pain from the past, the hope flows even freer (sp?).

Just, sometimes I don't like the process through which I mush keep hoping. I've heard some pretty cool prophecies for this year and, in all honesty, for me right now one of the most spot on ones is a passing comment I myself made on New Year's Day - when me and two friends had an amazing "improv" pray sesh. One girl said '2008 was great' (which is true! :-)) and I followed almost immediately with '2009 - refine'. Dang it, I seem to have spoken that into being!

But I just "know", somehow, that God is getting me ready for something or other and is doing stuff in me that I may be up to the task. I feel broken shattered and bruised but that is, yet again, a good place for God's strength to be made complete and for my dependency on Him to be renewed. This verse in Job 23:9-10 that I just "got" really sums it up:

"When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him
But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold."

So, ummmm, yeah. Not actually looking forward at all to the next few weeks... but the next few years may just rock out; if I can only get through the fire.

And learning to rely on other people is sure to help. Mummy is coming to look after me next week which is utterly wonderful, welcome and necessary, though I don't envy at all what she will go through! I am just so grateful that there are people who care enough to take me in my unrefined state; I know I won't make it to shiny without being held up in the process...

An Old Irish Blessing with a New Jewish Twist

OK so I probably already texted this to anyone I thought cared but I'm still sharing 'cause it's an easy post and makes me smile. That ole' classic blessing turned up today on a bookmark that my dear mother snuck into my green coat pocket and it was so fabulously, irresistably incorporable with a particularly wonderful imagerial encouragement I received recently from a reader (lol) that this arose quite naturally:

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields,
And until we meet again
May God hold you... in the palm of his big hairy Jewish hand.

The Analogy That Keeps on Giving

I am waiting for growth. Enjoying it short while it lasts. Surely I can let the metaphor go for a while.

But no! What's happened now? I hear you ask. Is the style growing out, maybe I got a trim or a perm (wow that would not work at all)? I actually think that the shape is doing OK. I may or may not tidy it up when I get back to London but it seems to have lasted alright.

I have simply made an insightful observation based upon pre-existing features.

Before I got the chop and went for the "cut the crap and start again approach" to my hair. I was trying to bring it back to ginge (which, in case you didn't know due to repeated brainwashing of jealous people, is a wonderful colour akin to gold and totally cool) the artificial and "fast-tracked" way. That is through dye. The latest time I tried this, when my roots were already at least an inch long, they used an "organic permanent mix" instead of the usual semi as it would be better for the condition. Organic you say? Bring it on I say. BUT, you know what this means? The bit of root I had that ended up being the bulk of the short drastic 'starting again' haircut was actually dyed.

Which meant that I turned out to be more ginger than I actually am naturally.

Only fractionally, maybe a shade more orange, but it does notice in the right light (now my true true roots are coming through) and the overall effect is subtly but significantly brighter.

And this is where it gets clever see. I have been thinking about how maybe I have been being a bit "too" Christian of late. Like, it started out funny and it still is a lot of the time but I don't want to become someone that is all about generic identity and forgetting the fearfully and wonderfully made part.

Looking for your new identity in Christ can be hard, particularly when there are things in your old identity that are tied in with negative conotations. The temptation is to say these things I knew about me are wrong and I need to "find myself" again but you know what, Jesus has already found me. I once was lost but he left those 99 sheep to look for me and is now rejoicing over me with singing. Along with all the angels. I just need to take out the bits of debris that I picked up in the wilderness.

For example: I talk a lot. I mean a lot. There are good things in this. Some of my friends have really encouraged me with statements such as "I like it 'cause it means I don't have to" and it sure comes in handy with some people some of the time and certain types of in-your-face evangelism. But this verbosity has been a bit of point of tension for me, particularly recently since, delightful character trait though it is, it becomes hard to pretend that being "too much" is always other people's problem. I mean, you seldom hear people say that Russell Brand just isn't understood properly and should be put in charge of more things, do you?! Unless you hear it from me that is... "They just can't handle me" was not something that Paul said about mixing with both the Jews and Gentiles etc. So from this came the temptation to believe, based upon the times that I miss the mark, that I am actually just totally wrong in myself. I sure didn't want to live in denial of things I need to change.

The idea of refinement vs rejection of these qualities got a bit muddled up till I wasn't really sure where the old me and the new me changed over. I know I do get it wrong and have a tendency to sometimes speak compulsively and without due care and attention but I didn't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater and assassinating my whole unique character seemed a bit drastic. Confusing.

But the hair thing helps a lot.

As I see it, I am a hell of a lot closer to natural than platinum blonde was. In all the process of trying to force myself into God's identity for me I just got a bit carried away and over did it. But it is relatively small, it will not last forever and it isn't a bad bad match. In time the ends will become a smaller ratio of dyed to real and then, little by little, get trimmed away. (Mum, could you book me that appointment actually please!)

People that know me of late think I'm a bit off the wall; people that knew me before Switzerland think I have calmed down a lot; people that watched it happen... I don't really know what they think...! But somewhere in the middle of all this is a happy balance and I just need to peace out and let God make it happen. In time. As I wait patiently and don't try and force it 'cause actually that don't work. I am alright. I am not perfect. I am in the best possible hands.

When was in GVA and we did the gig (a prime time for God showing me insecurities I forgot I had) we dressed up in *quite* silly outfits. Both my other band members (which is why I am putting their pic up too! Share the responsibility...) wanted orange hair and I am game for most things. So we did this:

Which now screams to me to be the perfect symbol of what I am not supposed to do. Put on make up and fake it to make the issues go away. I ain't conforming for anyone, it isn't about being as orange as I can (fun though it sometimes is!) but about being as orange as I am supposed to be. The blonde in strawberry blonde is there for a reason.

Best of both. Like hovis only not bread.

Thank You Parents

My parents are THE BEST EVER. Like, I know we all say it (or sometimes really don't!) but today I think they may have surpassed the limit of giving good gifts to their children into downright inconceivable.

Whilst I have been away they have supervised the repair of all my windows, built me a bed, put up my bathroom cabinet, hung my curtains, bought and fitted a pulleyed clothed dryer in my kitchen, dropped off the furniture that matches my grandparents old dresser (that they also gave me), renewed the tax disc in my car, done my washing... and I've probably missed or forgotten or just not found out something else...

I am not trying to boast. I am trying to say 'Thank You' and 'I Love You'. I also want to make an analogy.

I find it hard to write this post because:
a) it sounds really cheesy and I know that there have probably been LOADS of times where I have not been so vehement of this attitude (justifiably and not!) and generally it seems glib,
and
b) I know how lucky I am and it can't be easy for people that don't have parents, don't have such obviously attentive caring ones, or maybe theirs just can't help them is such ways... I feel bad rubbing that in those people's face and also like I come across a little smug.

But the thing is, this is such a perfect example of what parenthood can be. In this moment of wonderfulness (which can also be seen in the times of discipline, hardship and controversy but is perhaps less obvious) I can see clearly an image of the fatherhood and motherhood of God. I don't want to overlook the glory of this feeling so I think I will write about it anyway.

The role of a parent is so important in the way it is an example of our relationship with God (like how marriage demonstrates another aspect - don'tcha just love how diverse relationships are, how with God we have all the sorts rolled into one and that He gives us examples of the different aspects!). That is a huge challenge to rise to and of course they are going to get it wrong sometimes.

Though for some that may seem like an understatement and with this symbolism comes it's own problems. Firstly I am aware that not everyone feels the same joy in these type of relationships. As with any hardship it is easier said that done to say that God is working through that to teach and to bring good things and that His parentage however hands-off it may seem (not true mind) is sufficient. So often it becomes easy for us to assimilate our negative images of parents with the biblical analogy and think that the worldly elements of error is something we receive from our Heavenly Father instead of those being exactly what He isn't. That sucks and I am sorry.

'Cause when I look at what I have and what maybe others don't I am reminded that we all have the same promises from God. And that what my parents fail at, He doesn't. And that the size of what they give is tiny in comparison with what He gives. So, while it may be a rubbish thing to hear me to say, I am glad that there is in the world examples of parentage being this lovely 'cause it can help just a little bit to understand what it means to be a child of God. You can't deny I am lucky and He does all the above and more: wow am I looking forward to finding out His surprises...!

Another thing I have realised is how easy it is for me to say thank you and I love you in a really heartfelt way to my biological parents:
a) Shameful fact that it is the result of a direct gift is telling of how easily I forget otherwise,
and
b) When it's God and you can't see the joy in His face or hear it in his voice, does it feel as rewarding? Are we as compelled?

I can't be ashamed to have such great folks, to do so would be to shirk the gift that God gave me when he put me in this family. So today I just want to say 'Thank You' and 'I Love You'. To my earthly parents - superstars and a wonderful demonstration of His love; and to Him, for blessing me with them.

Wendy

is my gorgeous black cocker spaniel. See?

Her and I have an incredible affinity, in keeping with the whole like your owner thing - a moody strumpet that loves to play but then gets very emotional in an instant and puts herself to bed. And lo and behold anyone who disturbs her there, the growling is her way of reminding you that one step closer and she will attack. Ask Robyn, I have a high adoreability threshold (subjective) but cross it and your life in my company is not worth living.

But I do need to learn to curb my emotions. I mean, sometimes I am somewhat legitimised in my feelings; sometimes I am physically and/or emotionally run down enough to use it as an excuse and get some pity afterwards; but never am I justified to be such a bitch.

Tonight I witnessed a scary and I do confess slightly comic thing. I was worried 'cause it produced a noise that made me think Wendy was possessed. I was amused 'cause it sounded like she was growling and hucking up huge amounts of phleghm at the same time. I was also moved to make an analogy. Alright, that last one was a bit of a lie. I was getting bored of the blog I was writing and figured (in keeping with my quick enthusiasm and short attention span) that I would start a new one.

My mum was trying to discipline Wendy. The vision is that one day she will be safe around small children. (Some might say it is about 3 years too late but good luck with trying mum!). Her method was teaching submission - pining the dog gently but firmly to the floor by the neck! Oh my it sounds cruel when you put it like that, but she got it off the telly (lol) and to be honest W was just pissed off at the idea and not really suffering at all.

Makes me think a bit about me and my discipline. Sometimes God takes us for lovely long flat walks along the canal, lets us stop when we get tired and it is always some beautiful scene or other and lovely weather. Then, just as you are enjoying life he comes along and sits on your neck. All for the benefit of being able to trust us with more important things and only a bit uncomfortable really, but not nearly as fun.

So, next time I am feeling the call to be subdued I should bear in mind that everyone else in the room will only be laughing if I make stupid noises, kick up a fuss, then go sulk in my basket. I think I would rather get the reward even if I don't like the feeling of being put in my place.

All this said, We must be careful with who is doing the discipline, or perhaps how we are doing it to others. Mum did admit (after a classic fail where Wendy just ended up grumpy and I swear to you glaring at us all from under that floppy fringe) that she had not actually seen the start or the end of the program.

So that's the tenuous message gleaned from an earlier moment of amusement. Be prepared to be submitted (if that is possible linguistically speaking) but please, be wary of people that don't really know what they're doing. Discernment is only good if it is used gently after all (thanks for that wisdom C).

A wrong move only makes a person more rebellious in the long run and then they might miss the important lessons. If your doing it, be careful; if you've experienced it, don't let it screw you up.

Ta ta! x

The Anaesthesia is Wearing Off

When I got the placement in Geneva it really felt like I was being pushed out of the country. I applied 'cause it seemed like too good an opportunity to miss out on but I was comfortable in my existence, miserable though it was, and didn't actually want to go. Every stage of interview I went through I said "Yes" but only because I could not, reasonably, say “No”. I said to my mum back then that if I got offered the post I would probably do the same thing but I still spent my whole time making excuses for why it was not a good idea (they were crap by the way). As I made the phone call to refuse the offer, I remember the rainbow that I wrote about 2 posts ago and confirmed.

And so, in a moment, my life was changed.

When I went to La Suisse I took with me a lot of baggage (literally and figuratively speaking). There was a lot of unpacking that needed doing - it turned out that (metaphorically) I had gone and destroyed my heart completely and needed a transplant. At the time it was remarkable how I managed to let go so much of the past and just enjoy life again. With England in the background everything of before seemed a long way away and not at all important. With my new heart I was healed!

Yet there is a time to mourn and a time to dance. England is no longer a fuzzy memory but a very real and tangible place in which I reside. Amidst all the excitement about God giving to me everywhere that I put my foot I am realising that, though the battle is won, there are a lot of skeletons to bury.

It feels like, post-op and post-fabulous feeling of being made whole, the numbness is wearing off and with that I am aware of the tenderness around the incision.

Now, don't worry, I am not writing this in floods of tears. The main initial pain was incredibly avoided with the anaesthesia that is God's love. The new heart has been in place sufficiently long that rejection is unlikely and I still have a large number of carers to check I am stable and keep the wounds clean: Ana last night fed me the most sophisticated TV dinner known to man – stuffed trout with steamed veg, then totally let me vent to her; tonight I am off to house group with my sister and btw the leaders are North American which makes me feel strangely at home!

All of which is great 'cause while it heals I am at a higher risk of infection. For this reason I must be particularly vigilant with aftercare and staying away from major causes of disease till I am strong enough to “be a doctor” myself.

I just have to remember that the pain is part of the joy; acknowledging the past is part of the release from it. It needs to happen which is why I must neither avoid nor fear it. If I stayed in the Geneva mindset it would be akin to drug abuse, keeping anaesthetised long after appropriate and just running away. I know enough people that don’t face up to the emotional fall out of catastrophe to realise that this is the only way ahead. I don’t want to end up smacked off my head on pain killers – figuratively or not. Sometimes you just have to feel it.

But, and it is more of a huge J-Lo sized BUT, there is a huge difference with the inclusion of a new heart. My health is so much better that, while the tenderness is there, I am able to deal with the strain. Obviously it is the God aspect of that which makes a difference. I am fitter than ever before and it is sure not by my own strength.

I totally didn't realise (perhaps naïvely) that I still need to do this but I am content that it is all part of the process and that, one day, the scars will not hurt.

And so, over time, my life will yet again change.

[I didn’t write the rainbow post thinking I would write this a few days later by the way; it just seems to have fitted together as certain things have happened. Not surprising, God is cool like that.]

Slow Motion

I am incredibly tired. Like, sitting down in the hall and lying still doing nothing for two hours once I've finished breakfast tired. I hate it. I have SO MUCH to do today: am in the middle of packing as I leave my parents house and head towards Bristol and the new home and life waiting for me there. I can only take what will fit into my Nissan Micra - the clue is in the name (MS I'll put up pics when I can be arsed) - and there is lots left behind that needs to be in some kind of semblance of order. All this and I just want to sit around. Even blogging is an effort.

It worries me. I don't like it one bit and am convinced I am ill. My mother on the other hand seems to think that it is perfectly normal that after a summer jam packed with activity, a final week of mayhem, moving countries, sorting out and moving house here, plus all the emotional jack that goes with it all, may take its toll. Well, I don't know. Maybe she's right. How pants is that, I really need to be able to go go go.

Or not. So apparently it is time to stop and rest and move at half speed for a while. I am just going to have to listen to my body and not have unreasonable expectations of myself. That is, after all, one of the grace killers and if I want to be in line with God's plans perhaps I will have to be content to not do very much.

September, it seems, is going to be a slow month but I suppose that fits in with where I am at right now. I took everything I possibly could from my time in Geneva, would have done more if I had the time. Now I just need to absorb it all and recoup. My body, it seems, is not taking anymore abuse! Plus I am starting 'school' in a month and would quite like to be on top form for that. Haven't done so well in the past and I must take the time to be the best prepared I can, that this time I really do it properly.

On top of this my mind too is half asleep so who knows what will happen to BGB? I won't have the internet where I am going, though apparently the whole harbourside in Bristol is now wireless (some change is good change - the indisputable example!), but the future is unclear... Maybe once the fog clears I'll let you know what the outcome of it all is.

See you around, though I will be slow and boring for a while so perhaps not!

A collection of vaguely comedic things (that will only work if you know the people in question) and a fair amount of tangentialism

We have a friend who is "half Spanish, half American". So, while Beautiful Brian is a nice name it does not reflect his heritage nearly as well a Randy José. Rechristenment done.

The other day one of my competitors was talking about his leather thong. I asked him if it had studs in it. He replied "You could say that" with the classic eyebrow-raise/head nod. 'F you know what I mean... Shocking!

Randy José called me a fucker on the 24th June. My mission in Geneva is complete. People still don't believe me but it is true. I seem to have this affect on people, SO many of them are swearing more with my influence. Hurrah! I mean this too, I am an advocator of a good cuss when it is necessary and think too many people shy away from it. Language is a tool people.

My mum was just as excited as me when I told her about the hair and said that for her it really was a proper sign (maybe this is where I get the silly symbolism streak from) of things being different. I said that I assumed other things, i.e. Baptism, were more so and she said "well yes, but now it's real!" WTF! (Language is a tool people).

I wrote 6 songs this week. I tend to do that more when I am feeling mellow rather than upbeat so I think if I were to have an album it would be called "Music To Almost Slit Your Wrists To But Then Find That There Is A Small Amount of Hope". We went to see Paul Simon at Montreux a few weeks ago and the 'warm up' (if you can call it that in Switzerland where the crowd never gets more than tepid) was a lady singer/songwriter brandishing a guitar, which is always an inspiration. I know it sounds silly but sometimes when I don't get round to writing music I worry that someone else will write the songs that I'm supposed to! Like when you don't fulfill your call so God gives the job to someone else. I really am that paranoid. The thing is, there are only so many chord combos... and words... OK, I am doing the maths and statistically speaking that is unlikely.

Speaking of which, what about going back to maths... ? Well I am excited, unprepared, a little too not knowledgeable and have lots of things to do when I do return which won't facilitate becoming sufficiently so. But it will be great and though I talk a lot about the sadness of leaving here I have to acknowledge the excitement of going home. I have a kitchen to decorate, friends to reunite with, cars to drive, crazy dogs to play with, a family to drive insane, churches to shop for, futures to plan... There is a lot of cool stuff ahead and I have never been as secure in my life plans and knowing where they will take me. Even if I don't actually know anything much at all - the ideas change on a very daily basis but always, I find, building on each other... but to who knows where?!

On the whole call thing, it actually makes me really worried that every time I mess up I am missing out. I think that I put quite a lot of pressure on myself like that and then retaliate by being even less inline with God. Smart hey? Facilitating/stemming from this I have had a bit of a tough week; life and God have been there but I have on several occasions been disconnected. Yet in all that I now feel like, overall, He was in control. I think. There has been a risk of me getting too legalistic with 'giving my day to God' and making sure that He would be able to do what He wanted as long as I said and did exactly the right things at every moment and being incredibly guilty when I didn't. [Talk about not following my own advice - maybe I am who this post was for.] We can't always be fully immersed in what feels like quality time (I will no doubt realise this more when I get back to a proper life where I cannot pick and choose my level of busyness) and I think this is what I am learning and that I need to be able to be content in God in that. Keeping at it even when I am not in the honeymoon period.

And the anology for this lesson? I went swimming with Zoe on Friday and when I came out (after some pretty hardcore sunbathing as well) I found my hair was not as red. I nearly cried, mostly 'cause of what that said about me as a person and that I had not even show Robyn, but I was over reacting *slightly* as overall the impression is still very SB. It just reminded me that, while the colour was a moment of encouragement, I do need to protect it and I will still have to go through some major upkeep on a regular basis. A question of perseverance to see the long term goals. After all, I got the faith; I'm trying to be good and seeking to gain knowledge; in some, though granted not all at all, areas I am showing self-control and so perseverance is the next logical step (well, logic if you are going by the process as outlined here). Soo, this post would be not so much funny as tangential.

But I have found something that I can beat Darryl on. MY blog is more holy than his: I have more links to the bible... So there.

Good Food Diaries, part I

Well, I think it is about time that I started a regular topic in this blog. If Darryl can do it then so can I.

And one of the things that I am passionate about is FOOD. So this is a chance to talk about classic and new favourites as I remember or discover them (which I have been doing a lot recently). Feel free to share, particularly if you have a good recipe but even just so you aren't salivating alone. I mean, who doesn't love food?!

Today I have no particular recipe to hand, but I thought I would write about nice things that I have consumed recently and that which Switzerland has added to my culinary experiences...

First off, Maple Syrup.

Not what you may have expected granted and I had tried it before with appreciation but never to such extent. I genuinely believe that it is the best thing EVER and goes with just about anything. I was recently reminded that this is an ethos captured in the film Elf which only goes to increase my appreciation since that may well be one of the best Christmas movies EVER as well.

Second, and a partway derivative of the first, is Pancake Dinners. Sausages, syrup and fat North American style pan fried doughy goodness. I almost feel guilty but it is SO good and great for foody parties (N.B. Can also be substituted gladly for French Toast which, incidentally, I never realised went so well with sugar and cinnamon).

Now, clearly I have been too far influenced by my Canadian chums over here so let's got for a bit of European cuisine. It would not be Switzerland without Fondue, and though I have eaten far too much of this artery clogging delight to justify ever doing it again there is nothing quite like a day skiing in the mountains rounded off with a big pot of melted 'mouldy fat' and a stale loaf (particularly if it has been manhandled around the restaurant). The only thing that completes this idyllic day is a glass of Vin Chaud when you stop off at lunch time.

Hmmmm, that is an overload on fat/dairy/wheat-based death so what about for the health conscious moments?

Well, salads with any fruit I always got but have never enjoyed so much and this extends incredibly well to pear in stirfries (particularly when you add a bit of maple syrup). Nothing is better than mixing up sweet/savoury/nutty/seedy/cheesy stuffs on lettuce and my knowledge of this is growing under the influence of dear friends so any recipes (I know there are a few good ones out there... Emma if you're reading I want the one with cranberries etc!) please leave them in comments; or email me privately if they're too good to share!!

I just want to round this up with the fact that I have been lucky enough of late to leave work with some very tasty gifted morsels, which are the partial inspiration of this post. Luxury handcrafted chocolate mini muffins, fresh mangos (they were wow) direct from Indian and only half an hour or so ago I did sup on a late dinner of Sushi - which incidentally I discovered first in Geneva and am so very glad about it that it gets to be put in bold!

Next time I have a good dinner you will hear about it, with a blow by blow guide to recreating the experience (where available). I have decided to learn all about food and so we shall be doing this one together. Unless there is no-one reading...

P.S. Mum, I know you're reading. Please, when you work out how, would you put up some of your soup recipes 'cause they are the best :-D