Week 23

Hey sweet things!
So it's been another ridiculous week, with yet another change in residence, hacked up film, fireworks, stern russians, death threats from taxi drivers and a phone booth that smelt of piss and chlamydia, but all I really want to talk about is toast.
Because toast is fucking great and just about the most unappreciated food stuff out there. Seriously though, how many people eat toast every single day and never stop to think 'wow, this is delicious. I have charred the exterior of this bread and what was a moment ago just a lump of carbs has become a meal. Just like that.'
I think the problem is that people are in too much of a hurry, and don't see toast as something that should be enjoyed, but rather just as a filler to get them through till lunchtime when really it could be the best thing that could happen to them at 8 o'clock on a weekday morning. Imagine how incredibly indulgent it could feel to have a thick cut slice of sour dough with creme fraiche and raspberry jam, or some wholemeal with avocado, bacon and a bit of melted cheese on top. Or even just some medium cut white bread with loads of butter and less honey. Amazing.
Thing is, like most aspects of our lives that become routine, toast has become something mundane, and it really shouldn't be. So next time your buying your daily bread stop, and take a moment to think what kind of toast you really want to be eating every morning.



Foam letters for the shower tiles. Because there's nothing quite like composing messages for your flatmates butt naked with herbal essences in your eyes.

This week we love...



Last season, when the weather was warmish and cold beer the norm, Ginny decided to go on an adventure. Having escaped the mental health system she realised that the perfect plan was to take off to Glastonbury with next to no money and try to get a job scooping up the impossible amount of shit left behind by 177 000 festivalheads. Weirdly enough she was not successful. Turns out a lot of people like bagging syringes and beer cans and as one of the late comers, Ginny did not get a job so slept in an abandoned tent, chopped up 3 kilos of mushrooms for a hippie with a flute and devised a plan to get home. Penniless for the next 24 hours she decided to try her hand at hitch hiking (no pun intended) and stood by the side of the road with a sign that read 'Castle Carrey Station Please'.
For the first hour hundreds of cars drove right past her and while she was starting to lose hope who should come to her rescue but a juggernaut of a red truck. Behind the wheel sat Ben, fat truck driver and transporter of mobile kitchens.

G: So , where are you off to?
B: Heading to Wales to deliver some kitchens, big catering event, posh do I think.

G: What kind of people order mobile kitchens, isn't it a bit of a weird niche market?
B: No, not at all, caterers need them all the time, and so do bands going on tour, and any kind of festival of course.

G: Have you dropped off kitchens for any good bands?
B: Yeah, I guess. Jet, Pink, Kings of Leon, Foo Fighters...

G: Did you get to meet any of them?
B: Yeah, generally they're pretty nice, although they seem really fussy about what food they eat. A bunch of prima donnas most of them, bit spoilt I guess.

*Ginny notices little camper bed tucked away behind their seat*

G: Do you sleep there often?
B: Fairly, sometimes I'm driving for 3 days in a row so it gets quite a lot of use.

G: But what do you eat during those massive trips? Do you stop off for all your meals?
B: Well I stop off to buy food obviously, but I just really love KFC to be honest.
*looks shamefully down at foliage of KFC wrappers covering the floor. furtive glance at pot belly*

G: Do you have a family waiting for you somewhere?
B: Yeah, I've still got a wife and two kids at home.

G: Do you get to see them enough?
B: Enough for my liking! (turn out Ben's wife is a bit of a bitch. No further comments.)

*They get to the station, Ginny clambers out awkwardly*

B: See ya vagabond, don't wander around forever, doesn't suit a little girl like you.

And so he was off. Wherever you are Ben, we hope your enjoying your chicken dippers and keeping up the concise answers. You're one unsociable man.

Up from Below- Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

When Alex Ebert quit rehab a few years back he started to write a book about a new age Jesus called Edward Sharpe who "was sent down to Earth to kinda heal and save mankind...but he kept getting distracted by girls and falling inlove." If that isn't the perfect starting point for a band I really don't know what is, and so here is Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros with their gem of a debut album. The 12 man band have created those contagious feel good vibes that only come out of communal living, with tracks like '40 Day Dream' and 'Janglin' making you want to stomp around like a member of a marching band while others like 'Kisses Over Babylon' make for epic background music for washing up. Their hit song 'Home' is also a guddun although the film clip will probably make you wish you were in love, even if you are just a pair of crazy hippies who spend their time spinning around in forests.


Four Lions- Christopher Morris

Once in a blue moon you'll see something that makes you stop, blink twice and ask yourself "did they really just do that?". Watching 3 young Muslims and a white nihilist strap bombs to themselves and run the London Marathon in Sugar Puff costumes only to end up blowing themselves up in Boots and a kebab shop is one of those things. You probably won't be surprised to hear that Morris' film was originally rejected by both the BBC and Channel 4, but after sending out a mass email asking for donations it got picked up by Film 4 and was released in all its controversial glory in May this year. The greatest farce since 'This is Spinal Tap' Four Lions exposes the 'Dad's Army' side of terrorism and shows that "while terrorism is about ideology, it can also be about idiots" -Sundance Film Festival. Take it all with a grain of salt and you will laugh till it hurts and hopefully feel happy to live in a society that allows us to make a joke out of such a touchy subject. Favourite moment has to be when one of the happy crew compares suicide bombing to getting onto the rides at Alton Towers, "Rubber dingy rapids man!" Fucking rubber dingy rapids.


The Engineer- 65 Gloucester Av, London NW1 8JH

Tucked away in a little back street of Primrose Hill, just next to Regents Canal is this marvel of a gastro-pub. Home to the most amazing pancakes in the world (butter milk, super fluffy served with golden syrup and banana) this is my favourite place to laze away a couple of hours on a weekday morning. The tables are a comfortable size to be able to eat alone with a book or papers strewn around your plate, chairs look like they've been nicked from an old primary school, tea is loose leaf and served in floral print pots and hot water top ups are always offered. Dinners seem a little bit on the expensive side but the upstairs is a really nice place to sit if your parents are shouting you and the garden is beautiful although maybe something to be saved for summer. Oh and last time I was there I saw big dirty Tilda Swinton, and I believe an episode of Outnumbered was set there, just in case you needed anymore credentials.

Also...


A friend showed me this the other day and I thought it was hilarious. Type 'China' to 'Japan' in the journey planner of google maps and scroll down to instruction number 42.