Food that Tastes and Looks Good, too

Being a pregnant lady for the past nine months or so, I've had to deal with lots of food that I can't eat (sushi, pate, stinky cheese), but also some food that I should eat. I've tried to keep my caffeine intake as low as possible for years now, so drinking decaf tea and coffee isn't a big deal for me - I try to "save" my caffeine allowance for Cokes and chocolate. And while oily fish is a very big deal as a source of Omega-3 (which is pronounced "omeega" here) fatty acids, I'm supposed to stay away from larger oily fish like shark and swordfish and limit salmon and tuna because of mercury. Little fish, like sardines, are okay.

So, at some point a while back, when Matthew was working an overnight shift, I asked him to pick up some decaf tea and sardines when he went to the supermarket for his dinner (I've been very bad about cooking practically the whole pregnancy). This is what I found on the counter when I got up in the morning:

I found it very sweet and also quite visually arresting. I'm always really impressed when Matthew does stuff like this, arranging something in a pretty pattern, and I'm not sure why - he's not a Neanderthal and he quite likes music and art, etc. But this was super-cute and made me start thinking about food packaging and how it makes something that tastes good just a little bit nicer when it comes in a pretty package.

Porridge is my staple winter breakfast, made with skim milk and with a couple of squares of chocolate or a squirt of honey. Probably the best thing ever was a bowl of porridge with an egg cracked in it. That sounds disgusting until you know that it was a Cadbury's Creme Egg.

I generally like canned fish, but it turns out that I don't love pilchards. But the can sure looks nice, doesn't it? Note, though, that they are high in Omega 3.
This is the coconut milk I use in my curry recipe, which comes from the grocery shop across the road. You'd think things would be more expensive in what is essentially a convenience store, but this costs about half what coconut milk costs at the big store up the road. Plus, the three different languages on the label makes me think it's somehow more authentic. I made a curry yesterday and, while I can't vouch for the quality before it was improved, I can say that it's quite good now.

And this isn't yummy food that comes in a pretty wrapper, but it is quite yummy. It's the jam that I made from figs that I picked in our back garden last year. The figs themselves aren't particularly delicious - Rocco tells me that the climate in England is no good for figs, but he says that about everything except spinach - but I found that boiling them for ages with an enormous amount of sugar really improved their flavour.

Good Work News, New Book, and a New Design Crush

I've had some exciting developments at work lately. It seems that someone finally remembered that I'd done a planning degree and I'm suddenly assisting with preparation for three projects that are going to planning appeal. I'm helping the project architects draft their proofs of evidence, the legal documents they submit to the Planning Inspector, like a written version of their testimony. I've been to three meetings this week! And we got sandwiches at one of them! I felt so grown up which is quite nice, though it was a hassle trying to dress like a grown up three days in a row. I'm at a stage where I don't have that many wardrobe options...

Anyway, I'm still finishing up my interiors project and am still looking at lots of pictures of pretty, unfeasibly expensive things. I'm pretty crazy about these gorgeous cushions designed by Alexander Caldwell, who also did those wacky wooden dolls.

I am particularly taken with the moon cushion on the lower right. I think it's begging for a reinterpretation, maybe as a reverse applique. And it turns out I'm not the only person producing "homages" to Mr Girard. These crocheted dolls, inspired by Girard's wooden ones, were made by Sian Keegan. Pretty neat, huh?

I've been running into references to this book for a while now and finally decided I needed a copy for myself. Unfortunately, it is out of print and when I first looked it up on Amazon, the lazy booklover's first stop on a quest, a copy cost almost £200. So I forgot about it for a while and then next time I checked, there was a copy for £30. And that copy, once the property of Dunstable College's College of Further Education Library, is now on my coffee table. It's pretty great; the textiles especially are amazing, all geometric and organic at the same time.

Also in the course of my research, I ran across this photo of Eero Saarinen curled up in his Womb chair. Isn't he adorable?

I must say, Saarinen is definitely my new favourite 20th century architect. To be honest, I didn't have a designated favourite 20th century architect before; the post was created with him in mind. But he is great. He designed an amazing array of buildings and furniture, not to mention the St Louis Arch, which I have never seen in person but Matthew has and he assures me it is very, very tall.

In other, more baby-related news, everything is still going well. Apparently, my payback for having not had any morning sickness is that my feet and legs are still (and increasingly) swollen. I've only got two pairs of shoes that fit - and one of those only intermittently. Like I said, not many options. The only advice I've gotten from my GP and midwife is to keep my feet elevated as much as possible, which is why I'm writing this from the sofa, on my brand new laptop. It's taking me a while to get used to the little mousepad thingy, but I do love it. (And, actually, the GP told me today that I should start wearing flight socks - sexy!)

Current Obsessions

...which obviously do not include keeping blogs up to date, am I right?!?

Actually, I've had a lot on lately, mostly in the form of this little person, who spends most of his/her time kicking my bladder and, somehow, causing my ankles to swell to elephantine proportions. This photo is from before Christmas; we have another scan next Monday, when we're supposed to find out the sex. I'm quite excited about that, not least because it should help us decide on a name. I've been interested in baby names since at the age of 12 and have always had favourites picked out - fortunately these have changed over the years, or we'd be preparing for the arrival of little Shade or Summer or Panda or Arlo. (Yes, I realise some of those are words, not actual names.)

The problem is that when it comes to naming an actual child, I've choked. I mean, it's got to be perfect, right? We're looking for something that is unusual, creative and interesting, without being outlandish or invented. It should also be something that we both like. And I've got to take into consideration naming trends in the US and the UK. We also have to consider the class connotations that come loaded into almost every activity in England so that we don't end up with a name that's too "chavvy" or too "poncey". I thought we were on the right track until the other day when - shock horror! - I found our one and only boy's name on a list of wannabe hipster names on a website I like and trust. But all that aside, we're doing pretty well and are looking forward to meeting the little stranger, whatever we end up calling it.

At work lately I've been doing research on and writing biographical blurbs about famous designers, mostly of furniture, lighting and other interiors products. It's been really interesting and has given me lots of opportunity to get lost in pretty pictures. Last week, I got really into Ray Eames's fabric designs. We've bought a rocking chair with black cushions for nursing the baby and I thought this would look gorgeous in it:

And it really would look great. However, it is the tiniest bit out of my price range - the cushion costs about 150 euros and I haven't been able to find the fabric for less than $112 a yard. I'm now thinking that I will produce my own "homage" by embroidering a similar design in white on black linen. I've recently done some sewing for work (embroidering and making up some linen cushions for a hotel room mock-up) and got very excited about working with linen, especially since I found a place that sells it very cheaply.

Another thing I've stumbled upon is this series of wooden dolls by Alexander Girard. He was heavily influenced by folk art from around the world, especially Mexico, and his collection formed the basis for the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Apparently he made these for his own home, just because he wanted to and thought they'd be nice to look at. That's why I do a lot of the things I do, much to Matthew's consternation, I fear, so I think that's nice. However, it does not really justify them being "re-issued" by a high-end furniture manufacturer and being sold for about £80 each, simply as decorative items.

That said (in a disapproving tone), I am really intrigued by these little guys. I imagine that making some would be quite satisfying and I'm already thinking about how to do it. They're mostly flat shapes cut out of wood; a person could probably reasonably approximate the shape with a jigsaw. I don't have a jigsaw, so now I'm wondering about painting a set of Russian nesting dolls in imitation. Or, rather, homage.

But one thing about which I am unreservedly excited is the quilt exhibition that's opening at the V&A in March. The V&A has probably the greatest museum shop in the world anyway and they always have themed items to go with their special exhibitions. In this case, they are reproducing textile prints from quilts dating from the 18th and 19th centuries and selling them in fat quarters, by the metre and cut to measure. And they're not insanely expensive - only £11.50 per metre.

Now I just have to wait until next week to find out if I'm going to be making a precious little dress for Yoyo (the working title for our sprog) or if I'll be crafting a lovely present for my niece. Either way, my sewing fingers are itching...

Graduation Aggravation

Well, it didn’t go off without a hitch, but the important thing is that it’s done. Like so many aspects of my time at Westminster, it was annoying and frustrating but actually wasn’t that big a deal, and everything worked out fine in the end.

I went early to check in, pick up the tickets and get “robed.” The check-in and tickets were fine, but when I went to the robing area I realised that I didn’t have the reservation number for my gown, hood and cap. The people from Ede and Ravenscroft gave me a number to call to get it, so I went back upstairs to try it – the Barbican is on several levels, most of which have poor to non-existent mobile reception. The people on the phone, who were (I guess) at the head office, couldn’t find my reservation at all. I will admit, I was pretty upset about this. I actually stamped my foot on the floor. I said, “I am really unhappy about this. I’ve paid £60 for tickets for my family to be here and now I may not be able to graduate because you’ve lost my reservation,” to which the woman on the phone replied, “We haven’t necessarily lost it; we just don’t have any record of it.” To which I replied, “Well, since I definitely made it, I’d say you lost it.” Then I said, “Thank you very much for all your help” – but I didn’t mean it! I didn’t actually think she’d been very helpful at all!

Anyway, I went back downstairs, where a very, very old (and really very nice) man told me that they always bring extra regalia so I could rent a robe, etc, on the spot. I’d have to pay again, but he would make a note of it and I could sort it out later. But they only took cash, and I hadn’t brought an extra £50 to graduation with me, so I had to go back upstairs to find a cashpoint. There was one in the building, but it charged £1.95 for a withdrawal, which I found deeply annoying. I eventually got back downstairs and the nice old man gave me a receipt that looked like something you’d find in Bob Cratchit’s wallet, on which he wrote in spidery handwriting “paid twice?”. They gave me a robe, which I think was too small, a hood and a cap.

From there on out, it was pretty smooth sailing. I ran into my friend Nigel and chatted with him and his parents for a while. Matthew and his parents showed up eventually and we all got seated without incident. I finally cooled down – I’d been overheated and was literally pouring with sweat throughout the whole lost reservation situation – and found my place among a few friends and lots of people I vaguely recognised from my classes. It was a tiny bit anti-climatic. We finished classes in March and I turned in my dissertation in August. I got my results in mid-October and even got my diploma in the mail a couple of weeks ago. So on the day, we listened to a couple of speeches, and then walked across a very wide stage to shake the chancellor’s hand. That was it. Then Matthew, his parents and I went to lunch at a cute, tiny gastropub nearby. It turned out that, after so much excitement, roast pork belly and chips was a bit too rich for me, and I had to go home and take a nap (though, to be perfectly honest, that was part of my plan for the afternoon all along).

So I’m settling into the new job. Well, it isn’t actually very settled – very much oscillating between panic and boredom at the moment – but I’ve started to learn InDesign, the program the architects use for putting together brochures and other documents and which did NOT come at all intuitively to me. As one of my new team mates pointed out, progress is being made – I started out disliking it, then moved to ambivalence, and have now reached a “mehh” sort of shrugging, hand-waggling stage.

Other than that, things have been pretty calm. The weather has changed. Though it still isn’t cold, it definitely isn’t summer anymore. I haven’t been in the back garden for any length of time in weeks. In one sense, we’re already settling in for the winter, getting used to coming home in the dark, eating dinner and snuggling on the sofa under a blanket. I can certainly think of worse ways to pass the time…

But on the other hand, we’ve been doing quite a bit. In the last month, we’ve visited Long Melford, the village where Matthew’s grandmother lived in retirement (very charming, full of antique shops) and been to the theatre (to see War Horse, which was genuinely very impressive), a birthday party that featured food, billiards and karaoke, and, since the screening season has started in earnest, at least one film a week. We’ve got several concerts coming up, and my graduation from Westminster. The ceremony will be held at the Barbican Centre, widely considered a Brutalist masterpiece and, in my experience, very difficult to find your way around. One of my classmates joked that maybe the final test is actually finding your way to the ceremony - if you can do it, they'll give you the degree and if not, you've just wasted a year of your life. (I think that last point may be debatable, even if we find the auditorium, but spilt milk, right?) So fingers crossed on that one...

After graduation, I’m going to Edinburgh to visit my friends the Bednars. I’m looking forward to several days of pretty much non-stop chat, interspersed with thrift-shopping and eating. I feel a little bad to realise that their younger daughter Josie is almost a year old and I still haven't met her, but if her Halloween photos are any indication, she is a very cute little piggie. I mean, girl.

Work is a Four-Letter Word...

...but it turns out that "payday" is like sweet, sweet music. I've been back at work for a month now. There have been ups and downs - there has been a change of landlords, half our staff has relocated to a different floor and, most disruptive to me personally, my friend and co-worker Amy is going back to South Africa to continue her architecture studies. I'm moving to a new role starting next Wednesday, so there will be two new people to train from Monday. It's been challenging, to say the least, but it's not too bad. And I got paid on Tuesday. I was used to being paid weekly, so a month's pay in one check made me feel like I was suddenly very rich. I celebrated by ordering this dress.

I've had my eye on it for a while, but as soon as I placed the order, I started to lose interest. I might send it back, or it might be my new favorite thing...

Beatlemania

It's not 1964 around here, but you'd be forgiven for thinking so - and not just because I've got a really cute new, mod A-line tunic dress (which I washed today and was hanging up to dry when I spotted a "dry clean only" tag. I simply harrumphed. I don't believe in dry cleaning and, besides, in my relationship with my clothes, I am the boss. If they can't stand a gentle cycle or a swish in the sink, I don't want them around!). Anyway, I was actually going to write about how there's an incredible amount of Beatles synergy around lately. A couple of weeks ago, thousands of people congregated at the zebra crossing on Abbey Road to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the album being released - and, from what I heard, caused quite a bit of traffic congestion in the process. There's the release of the Beatles Rock Band game and a boxset of re-masters of all their albums, which I think happened on the same day. The BBC has been showing lots of Beatles documentaries and specials, of which we watched about 6 straight hours last week. This culminated in Help!, which was just as funny as I remembered from seeing it as a teenager. We decided that George has to be our favourite, certainly in this film, since he was the Action Beatle, tackling nefarious henchpeople and leaping onto the back of a speeding car, etc. Add to that the fact that he wrote "Here Comes the Sun" and he's obviously the best.

And then today as I walked to the grocery store, I saw two people wearing Beatles t-shirts. One was an album cover, but the other was the shirt pictured above (black letters on white). I like how simple it is, but as I thought about it, I became increasingly annoyed - the names are in the wrong order! Honestly, everyone in the entire world says John, Paul, George and Ringo. Right? Right??? Hmmm. I'm guessing that some people will say that they don't really care and as long as you don't actually leave one out, there is not one proper way of ordering the Beatles. To this, I would respond that there is a proper way to do everything.