MERRY YULETIDE TO YOU ALL.
Have a peaceful holiday.
I am working Christmas eve, 3-7 on BBC London. Then sitting in for Vanessa from Boxing Day for a week.
Do join me.
I dont know about you but this year seems unlike anything I have ever experienced. The tree is up, has been for two weeks, the lights are lit, the candles burning, the fire filled with logs. But I feel about as festive as a verruka.
I was taken out to lunch at Grouchos – which may I say has to be the kindliest of places with Bernie Katz the most generous of hosts.
I was taken out for Christmas lunch and after three glasses of bubbles I ordered a hamburger.
YES YOU HEARD ME a bleedin hamburger in a bun with chips. I don’t want to go back to my old habits so I didn’t eat for the rest of the day, although the bloatedness – is there such a word – sat with me all the way from Charing Cross to Tunbridge Wells Station.
Travelling on the train off the train, in the car, out the car. Buying presents and wrapping them in the silence of my kitchen, in the car out the car, on the train off the train.
Driving to Brighton to see my mother, driving back via Lewes.And then I got caught up in the never-ending obsession with scone making.
HELP ME PLEASE my scones come out like bullets from an AKF33 rifle, only I think they could probably do more damage. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I weigh the flour, fat and sugar. I beat nicely, I use my cold knife and knead oh so gently. I cut them out with proper cutters and put them in the correctly heated oven. The smell is lovely but by the time 12 minutes has elapsed and I release the scones from their heated cage, they have transformed into flat, hard, burnt, uninviting discs worthy of Tamara Hess.
HELP ME PLEASE. any recipes for the perfect scone will be gratefully received, I mean just how hard can it be to get a perfect scone? I’ve even emailed Paul Hollywood to help me but I think he is too disgusted to acknowledge me.
Please go and see THE ARTIST. It’s beautiful, touching, and the reason that cinema is as enduring as the superglue on my index finger. We’ve broken more plates and glasses this week than an entire afternoon at the local smash-a-plate-stall in our local summer fair.
I send each and everyone of you lovely bloggers my love and best wishes for the festive season and the New Year, it cannot be any worse than this one can it?