From Brixton to Ballaró - and beyond...

I can't believe it is exactly 3 months since I last had time to write a post here. It has been a mad mad year for busy-ness, one which I do not want to repeat for a while. I have just emerged though, having on Thursday evening had the launch party for the Festschrift volume I was editing in all my available spare time over the last few years, which was a triumphant and lovely evening; before that, I was in Pisa and Florence at the end of last week, giving the last of the conference papers I had signed up for this year, all on totally different subjects of course, each requiring new research which I had to scrabble to do in amongst everything else (oh, and on top of the busy day job!). So having written 4 papers, 4 articles (one of which has even been published already!), edited one (huge) book and begun the work on guest-editing a journal issue already in the last 6 months, I am feeling pretty exhausted!! So here's to the new resolution to say 'no' to absolutely everything else that comes along, with varying degrees of success already.

So the relaxing starts here - we have some friends from afar coming to stay over the next few weeks and it will be wonderful to see them. We are also (belatedly) starting to plan our Olympic Escape - to walk Hadrian's Wall, from west to east. More on that another day. Though it doesn't actually stop - K is at this moment preparing for a job interview on Wednesday. Keep everything crossed!

But I have wanted for a while to share with you these photos I took in the Ballaró market in Palermo, when we had our week's holiday in Sicily in April, after the end of one of my conferences. It was totally fantastic - we saw and experienced so so much (the food!), though as one friend observed, it was a bit of a busman's holiday. But with our ever-growing love of Brixton Market, we very much appreciated the sights and smells of this Saturday morning food market in downtown Palermo, where the vegetables and fruit were huge and their colours intense! I loved how they were grouped by colour, so tomatoes and strawberries were side by side. It was also amazing to see the tuna guy butchering a whole carcase which had probably started out about the same size as him! (I don't have photos but I also ate some delicious big and juicy cherries bought in Florence's Mercato Centrale last Friday - I love markets as you can see!)

So, here is a little photographic tour of Ballaró market, a feast for all the senses. And I will try to be a better correspondent from this point on...

Happy Easter!

I wish I could take the credit for these beauties! But K has discovered baking, and has taken to it rather successfully - a wonderful stem ginger cake, a dark chocolate and beetroot cake, some soda bread, and now a batch of hot cross buns in time for Easter! Delicious! Here they are in progress...


Sorry for the deeper than usual radio silence. This year, though barely 3 months old, has already been horribly busy. The recent travelling has a lot to do with it, as well as preparing for those trips. After Spain, I had a couple of days to turn myself around and go to New York - another place I spent time in 2008, when I was there for 6 weeks on a curatorial exchange at the Met, which was fabulous. I was back this time to take our loans to an exhibition on Byzantium & Islam, and to finally see the Met's recently opened not-Islamic galleries - wonderful, because of the magnificent collection of masterpieces they house, but also very elegantly conceived and designed so you don't feel overwhelmed by the fact it is actually 1000 objects and 15 galleries. I also had lots of fun catching up with people, including some friends unexpectedly in town.

Then after returning from that trip I had another couple of days to get ready for the Gulf - Doha, Sharjah and Dubai. I was a bit trepidatious about this trip, partly I think because I was tired already from being constantly on the road, but also because I didn't think I would enjoy the Gulf very much, having previously only been to Qatar for a few days back in, amazingly, 2004, when it seemed little more than a building site with no heart and soul. Perhaps because my expectations of this trip were so low, I actually had a really good time.

I was in Doha for 5 days as a visiting scholar at the Museum of Islamic Art - again, the first time I had seen the museum since it opened in 2008 (when I was in Damascus, my other big trip that year) and not only is the building absolutely stunning, it is full of gorgeous things, and much happier curators.


Much more has been built in Doha in the intervening years since I was there so there are other things to go and see - such as Mathaf, the lovely Arab Museum of Modern Art, which had a fantastic Cai Guo-Qiang exhibition on, the Chinese artist who does such amazing work with gunpowder and fireworks. I was also there at the same time they were opening the Gifts of the Sultan exhibition, so I coincided with lots of friends and colleagues, some I hadn't seen for years, others new and happy acquaintances. I even managed to get some good work done - starting to think about the upcoming conference paper on oliphants, on which see below....

View of the skyscrapers of the West Bay, from the Museum of Islamic Art, Doha

Next stop was Sharjah for the opening of my own exhibition - the Museum of Islamic Civilisation is the next venue for Owen Jones, and it looks really lovely there, not least because they have so much space!


It was an intense couple of days (not helped by the fact that stupidly I missed my flight from Doha - I won't linger on my own idiocy, but suffice to say it will be a long time before I become blasée again about departure times...). The high point was probably having to give the Sultan of Sharjah a guided tour of the exhibition, and then making the front page of Al-Khaleej the next day!

Then, to 'relax' at the end, I joined my colleagues at Art Dubai, really to see what it was like. Since I didn't have any responsibilities at this point or any meetings to organise, I could just wander round the art fair and the participating galleries in various parts of the city, and really get a feel for what the contemporary Middle Eastern art market is like. Mad, basically. But I loved the 'fringe' art festival in the historic Bastakiyya district - alongside the creek, where old Dubai grew up, is a quarter where houses from the early 20th century have been carefully preserved and during Art Dubai this old quarter gets taken over by artists and installations, with music and performances taking place in some of the larger courtyards. I was there early evening on a Friday, so it was weekend time and full of families relaxing, a really lovely vibe.

This courtyard had a sound installation which consisted of someone reading George Orwell's 1984 with qawwali music playing from some of the speakers. I sat down on one of the beanbags and listened for a good 15 minutes - it made me think the time had definitely come to re-read 1984.

The traditional architecture of the Gulf is actually rather beautiful - courtyard houses built, remarkably, of coral stone (well, it is certainly locally available), with a lot of influences from the other side of the Gulf, such as these lovely wind-towers, which are a traditional feature of many Iranian buildings as well.

Since getting back (and to some extent, while away) every 'spare' waking hour has been necessarily devoted to the Festschrift volume I am editing - we're at proof checking stage and everything needs to be turned around really fast, and with 30 essays it takes a while. And now I am preparing my next conference paper - I have decided to venture into the thorny territory that is oliphants, though to focus on function rather than style, so it has been quite pleasant to read 'dissertations' on horns of tenure written by late 18th century Antiquarians. And the best thing is that this conference finally gets me to Sicily, which I have been studying long distance since I started my MA in Islamic art... So in a week's time I will be in Palermo, and after the conference K will join me and we will have a week of actual holiday! It will also be good to spend some time together, after I have been away so much recently.

And nice just to have a bit of down time with the long Easter bank holiday weekend. We have just celebrated our first anniversary in our new flat - amazing how that time has flown by! On Easter Sunday last year, we were at Persepolis! It still feels like we have spent more time away from the flat than we have in it - we still haven't properly put up any pictures in our long 'picture gallery'-like hall. We seem to have new problems with the bathroom - a leak into downstairs' bathroom - which slightly makes it feel like this patching up the flat will be never-ending. I suppose that is the difference when you're a home-owner.

But we're feeling more at home too - this weekend, we're cat-sitting for one of our neighbours. I have also been trying to take a bit of time to tend to my window boxes - I have planted some pansies, and finally replanted our money plant (jade). This we inherited from Bev & James when they moved to Aus all those years ago! It has flourished (which I like to think was commensurate with our improved economic circumstances, getting a mortgage an' all that) but it really didn't like the move last year. That, or it couldn't cope with the global financial meltdown. But there seem to be green shoots, just in time for spring.

Return to Madrid

You'll be forgiven for thinking I had fallen off the face of the planet or something, not having posted anything since the New Year. 2012 has already been totally mad - and will continue to be until May at the earliest - and while I have often thought of blogging about something, there has always been a pressing deadline which has meant it was not to be.

Statue in honour of The Arts, erected by Queen Isabel II in the Plaza de Oriente

I am now in Spain - Madrid to be precise, having come from Granada on Thursday night where I was participating in a conference on Alhambrismo connected with the Owen Jones exhibition I co-curated, which closes at the Alhambra on 28 February and has received more or less 100,000 visitors! I am participating in another conference here in Madrid on Monday and Tuesday - this time on Islamic textiles - so preparing two conference papers and Powerpoints at the same time, on totally different subjects, neither of which I feel I am a specialist in, rather took it out of me before I came.

But I decided to take advantage of the few days in between the two conferences to revisit the city which was my home town for a year, back in 1999-2000, when I was based here for my research 'fieldwork' while working on my PhD. I have not come back to Madrid many times since then, and always too briefly alas, but I always feel quite emotional coming back, and it is always nice - and a little bit odd - knowing so well a city that you do not live in.

Today I just walked. I always used to do that when I was living here, to discover new neighbourhoods and soak up the feel of each place. I love urban walking. I am staying in the cheap and cheerful and appropriately named Hostal Dulcinea in Calle Cervantes (ha ha) in the 'Barrio de las Letras' (where all the streets are named after important Spanish writers), which is very close to where the department of the Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas where I was based used to be (about 10 years ago it moved miles out of the centre of town). So this is the area I used to wander around. The weather is also totally amazing - cold when the sun is not shining, but in the 20s C during the day! It feels like spring though the Spanish are worried as there has been no rain for months.

After a brief desayuno I followed old paths to the Plaza de Oriente and the Palacio Real, which is always an impressive view, especially in the sun, then down to the Plaza de España and stopped for a couple of hours at the Museo Cerralbo, the stunning house-museum constructed and decorated in the late 19th/early 20th century by an important Spanish noble family - so very indicative of elite taste for collecting and display at that era. I hadn't been there before but it was brilliant, and very well presented.

The impressive grand staircase at the Museo Cerralbo

The ballroom, with paintings by Juderías Caballero from 1891-2 on themes of dance throughout history

After a quick stop at the nearby Temple of Debod - given to the Spanish state by the Egyptians in the 1960s (!) - I walked down to the lovely Ermita de San Antonio de la Florida, the little elegant 18th-century chapel decorated with a cycle of beautiful frescoes by Goya as well as the artist's resting place.

Next to it is famous Casa Mingo, an Asturian sidreria which specialises in amazing roast chicken! I was not the only one who had had the idea to have lunch there on a sunny Saturday and I had to queue for about half an hour for a table! I could have got a table quicker outside, in fact, but chose to stay inside for the full cacophonous experience of Casa Mingo when it's busy - fantastic!

The menu board at Casa Mingo framed by hundreds of bottles of sidra!

I couldn't finish my chicken and needed a walk afterwards so it was just as well I had planned to walk along the riverbanks of the Manzanares, which has very recently been totally landscaped with parks and playgrounds and interesting bridges and other activities, and again it was full of people out enjoying the weather. I don't think I ever came down to the river when I was living in Madrid - there was nothing here, certainly no walks to do. Now it is a real pleasure, which great vistas of the Madrid skyline on either side.


There are such regular bridges that I kept criss-crossing to get different views. The landscaping has also incorporated Madrid's two historic bridges into the parks - the Puente de Segovia built by Philip II, and the 18th-century Puente de Toledo, which is now totally pedestrianised.

The Puente de Segovia with Madrid Cathedral in the background (coincidentally, built on the site of the Great Mosque when Madrid was an Islamic town in the medieval period!)

I walked for about 3km (there are handy markers in the pavement), all the way along to the Puente de Toledo, then left the river and wound my way through the streets around Lavapiés and Atocha, to go and see the new extension at the Reina Sofia - I didn't go in but I can tell you that it was big and red and slightly unrealistic in that way that impressive modern structures sometimes are.

Then I headed to the Prado. I hadn't been there for years and considering I had already been walking all day, I wasn't sure how good an idea this was, but I wanted to see its not-so-new extension as well, revisit some paintings there, as well as go and see the 19th-century paintings that the extension has allowed them to display. I got there at 5.30 and was dismayed to discover an enormous queue - forming ready for the free entry that kicks off at 6pm. I got in ahead of the crowds with my ICOM card. The museum was already busy but a few minutes after 6 it was heaving! They had to close off the gallery where an early and accurate copy of the Gioconda by a student of Leonardo da Vinci has just gone on display after a major restoration project - I hadn't realised it is only up for a few weeks so that makes more sense of the total craziness of the crush of people that gathered round it, somewhat like the original in the Louvre, and then later on the gallery was totally closed off and you had to queue to get in to see it. Ironic, since at the Leonardo exhibition in London recently, no-one was at all interested in any of the works by Leonardo's students!

I left the Prado when it closed at 8, swept along in the crowd back to nearby Dulcinea to rest my feet for a little bit and check my email (Dulcinea has free wifi but the connection has been really weak the last few days and I haven't been able to get online recently - it is quite strong this evening so I decided to take advantage and have a blog!). I was thinking about going to eat at another old haunt - yesterday I went for cod fritters at Casa Labra just off Sol, and then for pimientos de padrón at Viña P in Plaza Santa Ana, both old favourites - but then I thought I would try something new: a little place I had passed last night on Calle Lope de Vega, that had a really nice look to it and reminded me of all the little places that have been opening up in Brixton.


This is La Mojigata and it was lovely - everything home made, all the bread and cakes home baked, all the ingredients responsibly sourced and ecológico, and what's more something different, fresh rather than the fried food that tapas often is. I had a sort of risotto made of whole rice with wild mushrooms, and a salad of red endives with strawberries and rocket - delicious!! And a really nice atmosphere - so this is a definite restaurant recommendation if you are coming to Madrid! But it is very small - it only seats 17 - so you made need to book to ensure you get a table!


So Madrid is the same but different - reassuringly familiar and happily still buzzing, despite 'la crisis' which is also on everyone's tongue. It always comes up in conversation, as does the fact that there are no jobs. There are more people sleeping in the streets or begging than there were before, many shops closed or closing down, people wandering around Puerta del Sol offering to buy gold. A lot of graffiti against the banks, and there was going to be a demonstration in Plaza Lavapiés this evening. But it's still great to be here and I plan to make the most of enjoying it for the next few days!

Christmas feasting!

We did goose - and thanks to the combination of Mr Dale (aka 'the Hampton Court Butcher')'s magnificent bird, Raymond Blanc's excellent recipe (serendipitously spotted by my mother) and K's sterling efforts with a sharp knife, it was absolutely delicious - moist, goose fat did not pour smoking from the oven, and there were lots of leftovers, despite the horror stories which several people had told me when I said we were going to try cooking goose for the first time... My sister did think the roasted crown looked a bit like the head of one of the aliens in Alien, which was disturbingly true, but it didn't mar the flavour!

Preparations on Christmas Eve, just before heading out to Midnight Mass up the road at Christ Church, Streatham - the James Wild designed church with an Owen Jones interior which is just up the road!

As you can see here next to the fruit bowl, the new iPad really came into its own for online recipe consultation - I call it 'iPad cooking'! Did I mention that I treated myself to one of these from the Apple store in Houston?? It has been brilliant anyway, generally for reading PDFs when travelling to and fro on the tube (I am examining an enormous Spanish thesis - which, thank god, I actually finished reading today - and this has made getting through it in a timely fashion much more manageable)

Sitting down to a delicious starter of home-made blinis and Hebridean Smokehouse peat-smoked salmon, with thanks to my sister...

The goose - served up on the wonderful 19th-century platter which I inherited from my grandmother, which only ever comes out on special occasions, and when the food deserves showing off!

And there were a lot of trimmings! Home-made bread sauce (yum) and cranberry & apple relish, and all the vegetables came from our Local Greens veg bag, which I have blogged about before and will again - it has been prompting us to experiment with new recipes and invigorate our cooking which is always good!

Happy Christmas diners! We needed a walk in Brockwell Park after all that...

...but we returned ready to eat our dessert - a rather delicious (if I say so myself) mocha chocolate roulade! I was very happy with how very loggy it looked, being a Yule Log an' all. I totally mucked up the icing for this - twice - and so that the cream and Green & Blacks dark chocolate I had melted together didn't go to waste, I made truffles!


Quite pleased with how these have turned out! (though amazingly we haven't tried them yet)

My sister stayed over and on Boxing Day we went for a long walk along the Thames, from Vauxhall to Bermondsey.

A bit different from this time last year when we had to strap on our crampons to trudge through the Edinburgh snow! It has been really mild and rather un-wintry, and the South Bank was full of tourists, as usual! I couldn't resist taking a photo every time I saw the growing Shard...

This is from pretty much right underneath it, at London Bridge station. It is just so other-worldly in its hugeness. When it is finished it will be the tallest building in Europe!!

So, it's been a lovely week of cooking and eating and spending time with family and seeing friends - last night we had dinner with Wanda and Az at Bill Granger's new London restaurant, Granger & Co, which was amazing. I won't be forgetting the gorgeous pavlova with quince and strawberries for a while...

Not bad for a first Christmas in our new flat. And we still have a week off work! We're finally organising a housewarming, an 'open house' on New Year's Day, which we're now planning the menu for (we're going to bake a whole salmon from the Brixton Market fishmonger) and which might finally prompt us to put some pictures up on the walls... Catching up on sleep is also an important part of the plan.

Hope you all had a very Merry Christmas and all best wishes for 2012!

Five days later

This was Foot Locker in Brixton on Wednesday morning, totally torched in the riots on Sunday night. There were a couple of crime scene investigators still at work on it, but by the end of the day it was being boarded up. Many of the shopfronts on the high street have their windows boarded up now, so you are faced with a cityscape of plywood when you walk down into town, but otherwise everything seems totally back to normal.

Everyone is sharing experiences - you overhear snatches of conversation in the market. We chatted with our upstairs neighbours, who were much more alert than us and started noticing via online forums that it was all kicking off in Brixton on Sunday night. One of them is a journalist and actually went out and had a wander around - he said that the mood was more like a carnival than anything particularly aggressive, but he was depressed about the fact that most of the kids doing the looting were young teens. The other neighbour said she had looked out of her front window at one point and seen kids running down our street laden with flat-screen TVs and other gear from Currys round the corner. She had heard, though, that these kids were subsequently mugged by older kids with guns - kind of worrying to have confirmed so baldly what you have always suspected about the neighbourhood but never really wanted to think about.

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On a lighter note... Because K was working at home today, we went and had lunch in Brixton Village, fulfilling our resolution to always have lunch in the market when we're around (more usually at the weekend).

View down 4th Avenue, with the quirky lampshade installation designed by local artist, Charlotte Squire, who has her studio in the market. Read more about the work here.

Last autumn I blogged about the total transformation of Brixton Village, but didn't know much about it at the time. I now know it's the amazingly successful result of a deliberate policy of regeneration, the brainchild of an agency called Spacemakers that hasn't been going for long but specialises in urban regeneration projects: you can read about their project for Brixton Village here. That part of the market was so rundown that parts of it were derelict, but they arranged with the council and the property managers to let out 20 market stalls rent-free for three months, and held an open evening to attract interest, which was massive. They allocated the stalls to independent small businesses run by local people or who would source their supplies, especially food, locally, and only agreed to projects which would not threaten the already-existing shops and stalls. And now it is totally buzzing!

We have been back many times since, and it seems like there are new places every time we go. We try to eat at a different place every time: we've tried Etta's Seafood, Cornercopia, though I must admit we have been three times to Kaosan, a really delicious little Thai place which was highly rated by the Observer's restaurant critic, Jay Rayner, also a local resident (we used to see him taking his kids to school when we lived on Brixton Hill). The first time we went it was empty - just us and a second table were occupied - but ever since his rave review, the place has been totally packed and you're lucky to get a table! (They do really gorgeous lemongrass tea)


Today we tried the Japanese place, Okan, which specialises in okonomiyaki, Japanese street food - which I had eaten in Japan and it tasted just as good and delicious here in Brixton. I love how all these restaurants have benches outside, and you can watch the market life going on around you. It's really nice to go on a Friday, when it is quieter anyway but feels like locals only, whereas on Saturdays now the market is full of people who come in from outside Brixton - we've even spotted some tourists! It's all great for the local economy (though I know some fear it heralds gentrification - though actually Brixton has always been pretty wealthy and gentrified, until the post-war years...) but it is also nice to feel you're a local there.

And supporting your local businesses and community seems like the right thing to do at the moment, after the trauma of the riots.

East Window

Yesterday we went with my parents to the Family Carol Concert at St Martin-in-the-Fields. K and I used to go to concerts there quite often but we haven't been for ages - perhaps because the repertoire began to seem a bit repetitive. We certainly haven't been since the church unveiled its new refurbishment in April 2008 - already 18 months ago, and particularly remiss of us since my mother worked on that fundraising campaign. So, while I very much enjoyed the concert - sung by the London Concert Choir, with some really unusual, quite folkish songs sung by them, and the hit parade of traditional carols accompanied lustily by us - I spent quite a lot of time transfixed by the new East Window.

St Martin's is one of London's gorgeous Baroque churches, built in 1726 by the architect James Gibbs. It has a wonderful open and light interior, heightened by the recent restoration of its plasterwork decoration, and its clear glass windows. Its original windows were blown out by a bomb in the Second World War, and as part of the refurbishment the church has commissioned a really significant work of contemporary art. Artists were invited to create a work that "embodied light" and worked in harmony with the historic interior, that would "challenge preconceptions and stimulate debate", as well as encouraging reflection and contemplation. So no small task. But the winning design - by husband and wife artist and architect collaborators, Pip Horne and Shirazeh Houshiary - has really achieved this.

The stainless steel framework ripples outwards from an opaque ellipse that seems to pulse at the centre of the window. I have to say that the resemblance of the window's structure to the crucifixion is the last thing I noticed, perhaps because I am not fully alert to Christian symbolism; but of the surprisingly little information about it I've been able to find online, this seems to be the first thing that people comment on - apparently, following an uncharacteristically tepid remark by Jonathan Glancey in the Guardian about how it resembles a cross reflected in water. But the eye is drawn to the ellipse at the centre, whose oval form recalls one of the key forms of the Georgian architecture around it. All the panes in the window are lightly etched, evoking a motif from Houshiary's paintings apparently, and these etched flecks grow more concentrated the closer they come to the central oculus, so you realise there is a sort of aura around it, which represents the crown of thorns. Of course that means the heart of the window stands for Christ but there is something profoundly moving - intellectually and spiritually - about it being entirely non-figurative, non-representational. An icon for our postmodern world. And because we were there on a wintry late afternoon, we could watch the amazing transformation of the window as the sky grew dark outside...

(with apologies for the not very good iPhone images - plus, as you can see, there was a rather tall chap sitting in the row in front of me!)

As the sun goes down, the ellipse at the centre of the window glows - embodying light, as the commission invited, and a kind of mystical evocation of Christ as the light of the church, the star guiding mankind to Jerusalem at the time of his birth, all those meanings, as well as just a pan-religious symbolism of light for God. We couldn't figure out how this physically happens - is there something in the glass itself that glows, or is it subtly lit from somewhere? If the latter, then the source of this light is entirely invisible, which just adds to the mystery and the effect.

It was a highly controversial design apparently, though I can't find out online exactly why this was. Much of the commentary seems rather patronisingly to focus on the fact that Houshiary is 1) a woman (another Guardian article calls the window "gynaecological"!!) and 2) Iranian in origin: it is therefore exotic, imbued with the inspiration she draws in her art from the 13th-century Sufi mystic, Rumi, non-figurative because her art draws on Iranian artistic traditions - bla bla bla. She might be Iranian but does that mean she is Muslim? My mother couldn't remember but thought she might be Zoroastrian. Anyway, Houshiary trained and has lived and practised in England since 1974. Would she like to be labelled "exotic"?

This is a discussion that is quite current these days, with the growing debate over what "contemporary Islamic art" is, if it even exists. Most contemporary artists surely prefer to see themselves precisely as contemporary artists, practising in a globalised world without borders between artistic disciplines, rather than as "a contemporary artist from Iran" or wherever. Do such pigeon holes make Westerners feel more comfortable?

I was rather shocked to read the comment - posted by 'Highby' in response to the gynaecological Guardian article - that Houshiary "had simply applied the Iranian style. Means, no pictures of humans. Just graphical elements - lines. Arabesques. Geometrical forms". To start with, there seems to me nothing "simple" about this window. And goodness only knows what Highby thinks an arabesque is. But it also smacked of the attitude I often come across in discussions of the Islamic style in art made for Christians or Jews in medieval Spain - what has come to be called Mudéjar. For a long time, the attitude among art historians was (perhaps still is) that if an art work was in an Islamic style, it had to have been made by an Islamic artist or craftsman; there was absolutely no way that a medieval Christian or Jewish craftsman would find the Islamic style appealing and be influenced by it. This always struck me as illogical because why would a wealthy Christian patron spend money on building a church or a palace or commissioning a carpet or a geometric ceiling in an Islamic style if that isn't what they wanted in their material surroundings?

And precisely the same could be said of the St Martin's authorities who chose this window design, which is so profound and beautiful and seems to engage both mind and soul, and work on so many levels.

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Perhaps next year we'll go to the candlelit evening carol concert - the 'family concert', of course, attracts families, mainly parents and grandparents with very young children, who don't much fancy sitting still and quietly through an hour's worth of concert and don't know any of the carols (apart from 'Away in a Manger') so can't join in. There was a particularly grizzly child in the row behind us, and a general low hum of children's restlessness all around us. Still it was fun and put us in the Christmas spirit. In fact with the recent Big Chill and the fact that we have booked our train tickets to Edinburgh to visit my sister for Christmas and New Year, we've been feeling cosy and wintry for a few weeks now.

This was my sister's little car at the beginning of the week:

Almost as much snow as there is car!

The snow has pretty much all thawed now. It happened quickly yesterday. Walking to meet K at the pub on Friday evening, I was slipping and sliding over compressed snow all along St Matthew's Road, but the next morning we woke up to the sound of dripping outside the bedroom window - the sun had come back and it was a little bit rainy. Not before time - I fell down the escalators at Brixton station the other day. I had my walking boots on but it was so slippy on the escalators that there was nothing to grip onto and I couldn't get up again. I floundered for a moment until someone helped me up - I never saw who, just a voice behind me that said, 'Up you get'. My thanks to that good Samaritan.

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I'm making stock and, while I write this, wonderful smells keep wafting up from downstairs. I'm using the carcass of the lemony roast chicken we made a few weekends ago (I froze it in the meantime!) when Gareth was supposed to come round for a long overdue dinner and catch-up, but poor him, his grandmother died and he spent the weekend looking after his grandfather and helping with funeral arrangements... I like making stock: it seems like a good wintry make-do-and-mend thing to do, and a good way to use up old bunches of herbs and random bits of celery and other veggies languishing in the bottom of the fridge. We're planning to use some of this new batch of stock in the rabbit stew we'll be making in a couple of weekends' time - Cornelius and Giles are coming to share it with us. Maybe Gareth will be able to make it over too.

Brixton brunch

The American mid-term elections have made me realise that it is already two years since I had my mini-sabbatical at the Metropolitan Museum - six weeks in New York just as the weather was changing to autumn and the trees were turning gold in Central Park. How fantastic that was. Though I don't think, in the euphoria surrounding Obama's election, we could ever have predicted how badly things would go for him, and how disappointing his premiership would become. Still, he's not God.

Today we had brunch with friends and this brought back really strongly memories of another autumnal brunch two years ago in New York, with Rebecca who came down from Illinois to visit for a few days. So fantastic to see her after so long, but terrible that we haven't really been in touch since then. I remember vividly that it was the day of the New York Marathon. We went along to a brunch place on the Upper West Side which had been highly recommended as a New York institution - Sarabeth's, that was it. You can't reserve for Sunday brunch so you have to go there and queue and put your name down for a table, and you can't have a table for 4 if there are only 3 of you queuing. So we were supposed to be meeting Lindsay - who was also on sabbatical in New York at the time - but she was late, because she'd been watching the marathon, so we had to put ourselves down for a table for 3. While we waited for the table to be ready we went across the street to have an emergency coffee in an unfriendly little place where a TV was showing Paula Ridley winning the Marathon just a few blocks away...

I can't remember what we ate at Sarabeth's but it was packed with New Yorkers having brunch and had a great atmosphere. Afterwards we wandered over to Central Park and through the dregs of marathon-runners sporting medals and those space-age cloaks they give you for warmth. We found a fleamarket and started to look around, and discovered that it was a really good one, with great craft stalls, and picked up quite a few things. I got a coaster made from an old map of New York, which showed the exact street that my New York apartment was on - East 87th Street, the building was actually called The Gotham!! - and K picked up some cufflinks made from old typewriter keys. He still wears these, and the coaster is on our study bookshelves, where we put our teapot.

All these memories came back today when we went along to the Ritzy to meet Ruby and Jesse and baby Ivy, and Teresa and Dan - all local Brixton friends and neighbours - for brunch. How lovely! After a scrumptious breakfast (eggs benedict - my current favourite!) K and I decided to wander through Brixton, since we needed to buy some olive oil. It seems in recent weeks some of the market stalls have started opening on a Sunday, so there is still a bit of buzz even though Brixton is generally very subdued on a Sunday. We wandered into part of the covered market we hadn't been into for years - Brixton Village - and discovered not only that quite a number of places were open, but also that it has been completely transformed!! It is now full of lovely little eating places, which all look packed with atmosphere and nice design, and I am sure all do variously delicious food. I would have been happy sitting down to brunch at any one of them. It felt like a mixture between being in a Parisian passage, or somewhere in East London which is a bit more comfortable with being self-consciously trendy than Brixton is yet. Actually it felt like being in New York!

Perhaps it was the fact that it was a Sunday, meaning that all the more usual Brixton market stalls were closed up for the week, but it made me feel slightly sad for the passing of the Brixton Market identity, which is not about trendy foody joints but about the kind of food that real people need to buy day to day. What's wonderful about the Brixton Market foodstalls is that they cater to the ethnically diverse Brixton population, so plantain and salted fish heads and ginormous sacks of rice are as ubiquitous as basic fruit and veg. I felt as if that identity was being a bit streamlined, to make way for the trendy coffee and deli places. But, if that's what needs to happen for Brixton Market to survive at all, then so be it. And thankfully not one of these new places was a chain, all were highly individual in their look and the type of food they were serving. I guess I'll just need to go back on a Saturday and hopefully be reassured by how the two aspects of this new Brixton Market identity are working symbiotically together.

The Incident of the Rhubarb Tarte Tatin

It was Friday the 13th, and I quipped to Andrew by email, "I hope I don't burn the dinner!" Hmmm. I had chosen a fancy dessert recipe from Olive to wow our dinner guests, and also to use up the last batch of rhubarb from K's parents' garden. First problem - I haven't cooked with rhubarb much before, and had never made a tarte tatin, and found upon reading the recipe closely that this was supposed to be done in blini pans or in a Yorkshire pudding tray with four indents, neither of which I had. So a single tarte tatin in a cake tin it was going to be. Then came the issue of making the caramel base. I discovered the hard way (er, literally) that when the recipe says butter and granulated sugar, one should not use caster sugar to make caramel.

After two attempts (the first with golden caster sugar, the second with normal refined caster sugar, just in case its goldenness had been the problem), K was dispatched to the local corner shop to procure granulated sugar, and hurrah! all proceeded satisfactorily with caramel production. I made a nice arrangement of the rhubarb bits on top of this, and I must say the tarte tatin did look beautiful when it was turned out. I don't have a photo unfortunately. Andrew was presented with the first slice and we all waited for the verdict - poor man, having been put on the spot, he did a valiant job of keeping a straight face. I tried a bite of mine - decidedly sour!! What happened to all that sugar in the caramel??? Plus the recipe suggestion of serving this with mascarpone was not a good choice.

With lashings of caster sugar, the dessert was eaten, but lesson learned - always test a new dessert recipe before serving it to one's dinner guests!! Alas, I feel this episode might go down in personal legend - "remember when you did that rhubarb tarte tatin for Alison and Andrew....?"

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The nice thing, however, was that we had a dinner party at all. It has been far too long since we had people over for supper, and this is one of the very nice outcomes of the time I have off work at the moment. Five whole weeks! I had so much annual leave to use up, having taken almost no holiday over the busy last few years, that I decided to take a big batch of time off in the middle of the summer - when it is usually quiet anyway - and spend it in the library, finally starting to focus on how to turn my PhD thesis into a book... I get two different reactions to this:

1) "Don't work too hard / Make sure you actually give yourself some time off!"
2) "Five weeks in the library! What bliss!"

I fall into the latter category myself. Two weeks in, and I am feeling immensely relaxed! I have said before that I don't really know how to relax like normal people - I actually really enjoy going to the library, and it is wonderful just to have the time to read things. I made a list of books and articles that have been published since I submitted my thesis in 2002 - not too long fortunately - and have been working my way through that, but also reading the odd other article, which I'm interested in but isn't directly relevant... Plus - I have space in my brain! And time to get round to things I have been meaning to do for months! Like write emails, send people photos or references I said I would send them, and just see people and be sociable!

The British Library is a pretty sociable place, as I have noted before, and I have been meeting friends for lunch and coffee and a post-library drink. Now Juliette has joined me in Rare Books, on her own PhD sabbatical, and we're getting into a habit of taking our packed lunches outside at 1, to sit in the sun for half an hour or so, and debrief... K will be off work too soon, so the 3 of us will be chilling out together...

And two weeks in, I have nearly a complete first draft of a book proposal! Reading the thesis again after 8 years was an interesting experience, and I was gratified to discover that it wasn't too awful, and that mostly I still agreed with myself... It's a bit dry and in some places overly defensive, but that's what makes a PhD different from a book, and that's what I have got to work out how to tackle. I've even had some positive feedback from the professor who supervised me for the beginning of the process, but didn't see it through because he went off to the States to be a hot-shot museum director - amazing to have some actual feedback as the viva was such a let-down... But water under the bridge an' all.

So - the next dinner party is planned for just over a week's time, and I'm already plotting the menu. I'm starting with the dessert first this time...!

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And finally...

Signpost, Chenies © KR

Our calendar picture for this month. A very English country road sign, but for K one which conjures up the places of his childhood. Chenies was where his grandparents lived, both now passed away. It was exactly this time last year that we were in Hereford for the 3 Choirs Festival, unknowingly spending our last days with his grandfather Robert... Perhaps a little sombre for the kitchen calendar, but it prompts some happy memories.

My book is in the shops!

and the Ceramics Study Galleries are open - the two major projects I have given all my time to over the last several years are successfully complete, and I am becoming increasingly aware of an unfamiliar feeling of aimlessness in my extra-curricular time. It's not that I don't have research or writing projects I could be doing, I just don't want to be doing them - or rather, I feel that I have earnt some time off from them, just that I don't really know what it is that normal people do with their free time. I suppose part of the problem is that K has two article deadlines to meet, so he is writing writing writing, so I can't make any plans for us to go off and do things together at the weekend. And I quite enjoy luxuriating in the pure fact of having nothing to do.

But I have read enough of the LRB and my current book, The Rings of Saturn (which I have to say I am not enjoying nearly as much as I ought to be - especially since it is one of K's most beloved books), and have caught up with the Guardian profile of Simon Mawer and review of his recently-Booker-nominated The Glass Room - the book I read on holiday, which was such a wonderfully evocative portrait of a Modernist building that when I eventually brought myself to look at photographs of the Tugendhat House in Brno, Czech Republic, upon which it based, I felt I had already seen it... I have caught up with a good few long-overdue emails, and we have even started to arrange to see people again!

I feel like I am re-emerging from a long period of hibernation, but am out of practice where basic social pastimes are concerned - perhaps because our habit over the last years has been to do our research in all the spare hours we can carve out from the day. I made a conscious decision early on in my working life to maintain an active academic strand alongside my job - of course those things should cross over more than they do - but I feel I have now got to the stage, especially now that I have been promoted, where I do not have anything to prove any more, and I am grateful for that. But it is difficult to suddenly learn to relax when you've never really been sure of how to do it! I have done quite a lot of cooking - hours in the kitchen last night producing Ottolenghi's turkey and sweetcorn meatballs, and as always with meatballs I am not sure that the end result really justified the hours of faff; I have even done all the washing up (things must be bad!).

This lull is also actually only a brief window before embarking on the next book project - in August, I am using up 5 weeks of my accumulated leave (having not really taken any holidays over the last few years) to start focusing on how to turn my thesis into a book. I haven't looked at it for 8 years, and don't really want to think about it at all before 2 August - when I plan to pitch my metaphorical tent in the British Library for the duration (people who don't realise I am not going on a month's holiday say, "I hope you're going somewhere nice"!) - so I am trying to get my ducks in a row (scans from Spanish colleagues of articles that have come out in the last 8 years, a sense from EUP - where I plan to propose it - of what I should have achieved by the end of August) without really engaging my brain, since I want to come to it absolutely fresh when I finally sit down and re-read it. I am hoping that the intervening years and publishing projects will make it immediately obvious to me what it needs, but I also don't want to do too much rewriting, mainly restructuring and reducing. But who knows what will possess me.

In the meantime, we're having a glorious summer and I really should be outside. Thank goodness we have the Lambeth Country Show next weekend!

Cast ne'er a clout...

... till may be out. So goes the old proverb, warning the optimistic against shedding too many clothes before - either the month of May, or before the hawthorn blossom appears, called 'may' because that is the month it traditionally blooms. And boy was it in bloom in Herefordshire last weekend!!


All those bushes with the glowing white blossoms. It was K's birthday on Friday and bank holiday on the Monday, so we took a long weekend and went to visit his parents. We took an early Thursday evening train after work, which also meant I could get away from it all after my promotion interview which was that morning (on which more below) - and as always when we go to Hereford, you get out in to countryside quite quickly, and as the train pulls further from London and gradually empties and the landscape through the window becomes more and more picturesque, you feel the weight gradually lifting from your shoulders...

And now that they are both retired, K's parents are making the most of exploring the Herefordshire countryside, which is something we have not done much with them at all - so on Friday evening we drove to a country pub for K's birthday dinner, taking in a gorgeous early evening walk along the ridge at Much Marcle (I also love the placenames in that part of the country...) with its panoramic views on both sides; and on Sunday we took a picnic and went to Wigmore, in the far north-west of the county, the region known as the Welsh Marches because it is right on the border with Wales and historically was a major defensive zone for the English. My marauding ancestors were on the far side of that border! In fact, not too far and not too marauding, and not too ancestral - my father grew up in Presteigne!

But this is where we were last Sunday -



- Wigmore Castle, a 12th-century ruined castle, managed by English Heritage. When they opened it to the public in the 1980s, the fact that they had preserved the castle's ruinous state was highly controversial - I guess people thought it should have been rebuilt so you could see and experience how the castle would originally have looked. But you can see and experience that in many other places, and over the centuries, this site had become a major ecological site for wildlife and wildflowers, so English Heritage were quite ahead of their time in treating this as a conservation area - they stabilised and strengthened the walls of course, and obviously did a lot of work, in very subtle ways. It was an extremely atmospheric and beautiful place. These were the views from our picnic spot - towards England...


towards Wales...


If you look at the large version of this picture, you can even see the spire of the church at the wonderfully-named Leintwardine.

Magnificent rolling hills. Sometimes you just can't beat the British countryside for beauty.

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And I got that promotion. I heard on Friday morning. I had been stressing about it and trying not to since the interview, which really takes it out of you, I can tell you. So I now feel enormously relieved, and proud and happy, and rather more relaxed than I have done in a while. Two colleagues from my department also went through, and we went out for impromptu celebratory cocktails on Friday evening - then K and I went out for a truly wonderful dinner at Upstairs - another one of Brixton's gastronomic delights. This gorgeous little place opened a few years ago, and we gradually heard about it via word-of-mouth because it doesn't advertise itself. You would never know it was there if you didn't know it was there - if you know what I mean! It's a converted flat above a cafe, with a bar on one floor, and the 'restaurant' at the top, all very tastefully-decorated and the food beautifully-presented and delicious. The dining area only seats about 25 people at the tables so it's an intimate place, and we started eating late so sat there gradually more illuminated by candlelight as the sun went down... Lovely. Even better for just having a 10-minute walk to get home.