A look through The Jelly Window.

After the Meatfest that was Christmas 2011, The Wig and I have decided to be Semi-Vegetarians. I don't think 'Semi-Vegatarian' is an actual dietary term but what it means, in our house at least, is meat maybe once a week rather than almost every day. Not only do we think this will be better for our health, it will also be a lot cheaper. So far we have eaten some really delicious food and not missed meat at all. However, we did succumb to a delicious roast dinner yesterday when we visited The Wig's parents in Sussex.

The Bolney Stage Website

We took his folks to The Bolney Stage, a pub that serves food in the village of Bolney, Sussex. It was quite off the beaten track which made it a nice change from hectic Hackney. The building dates from the 1500's and is a chock full of old beams and period features such as a huge open fireplace that divides the bar from one of the dining rooms. It was absolutely packed for Sunday lunch (a great sign) so I would suggest booking ahead if you were thinking of going. The staff were very friendly although perhaps run a bit ragged by the amount of customers they had (we had to ask to order our mains and then again for desserts) but that would be my only criticism. And I always have to have at least one.

The pictures I took were so awful I have decided not to post them as I fear they may have put The Bolney Stage out of business, which it does not deserve. The food was delicious. I had the roast beef followed by the sticky toffee pudding then felt fit to burst all the way home. Not a particularly pleasant  feeling but well worth the pain. I would rate The Bolney Stage a respectable 8 Yorkshire Puddings out of a possible 10. Definitely worth a visit.

Then this morning we had our second scan at the hospital, or a look through the 'Jelly Window' as we like to call it. With the first scan 2 months ago, I was so happy/relieved/shocked that it was an actual baby and not just a blow off that I didn't really think too much about the consequences of what we were looking at, but today I think I was a bit more anxious. We've definitely got used to the idea of our new life now whereas at the start I think we were trying to be quite cautious and not get too carried away with the idea.

Today was the Anomaly Scan which checks in more detail that all the babies internal organs are ok and its measurements are as they should be at this stage. Thankfully, everything looks tickety boo which is super news. Because its a more detailed poke around we had 20 minutes with the Sonographer as opposed to the 5 minutes we had previously, and it was so interesting! Most of the things on the screen looked like blobs to me but the Sonographer pointed out exactly what everything was, "that's its kidney's and its heart valves, and that's its nostrils and its lips etc etc". Fascinating, although it does feel a bit mean spying on the poor thing without it knowing. I hope it will not be too annoyed when it grows up. What an invasion of privacy!

The baby was not in a great position for having it's picture taken so we tried (and failed) to move it into a better position. At first the Sonographer tried moving it around from the outside with the jelly prober, then I had to lay on my side to try and wiggle it to a better position. When neither of those things worked I had to jump up and down and attempt to touch my toes (impossible). I have a feeling this is just the start of a very long line of undignified/humiliating things I will be asked to do over the next few months.

It's at this point during the pregnancy that you can find out if you will be having a blue one or a pink one and despite being adamant that we didn't want to know we very nearly cracked this morning and asked to find out. For us, there isn't any need to know the sex particularly since we wont be painting a nursery yet, (it doesn't have a nursery yet poor little thing), so I think its just pure curiosity/nosiness.  As long as its healthy and happy and doesn't kill me on exit I don't mind what we have. My friend told me recently that she knew someone who freaked out when she found out she was having a boy. Apparently she had to have counselling until the baby was born to get over the trauma of discovering there was a tiny penis growing inside her. Its reassuring to know that whatever happens, I know I'm not that bonkers.

On that note, here is an amazing link that my older brother sent me about conception to birth. If a baby carried on growing until birth at the rate it does in the first few weeks of life, it would be born weighting 1.5 tonnes. OUCH. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the link:

Conception to Birth vizualization

"Dreams of a Life"

After 2 previous attempts and fails at trying to get tickets for Carol Morley's documentary, "Dreams of a Life", The Wig and I finally managed to see it on Thursday night at my new favorite place, The Hackney Picture House. (Or the HPH for lazy typers). Despite The Wig being very angry that it kept selling out I was actually very pleased as I guess this means that the HPH is proving to be a success, even in this crummy recession. Bravo HPH! People will always want to sit in a comfy seat and eat popcorn. (Although might I recommend buying Butterkist Cinema popcorn before arriving at the cinema as at £1.49 for a big bag it will save you approx £2 on the cinema own brand stuff.

I had read an article about "Dreams of a Life" a while back and remember thinking how awful the story was behind the documentary. Without giving too much away, in 2006 the decomposed body of a 40 year old woman, Joyce Vincent, was found in her flat that had been there for 3 years. No one had reported her missing and the TV and lights were still on. They had been on for 3 years! Its very hard to get your head around the tragedy of a story like this particularly in these days of mass communication, but the documentary proves that, unfortunately, it is possible. Carol Morley (the film maker) read about the story in the papers and set about trying to piece together Joyce's life in order to try and establish how she could vanish and no one notice. The documentary consists of reconstructed scenes played by an actress and interviews with friends and boyfriends to create a picture of Joyce's life. I found parts of it slightly self indulgent ie the reconstructed sections, but the interviews with the people who knew her were at times very moving. It was an interesting film as I didn't leave the cinema feeling like I thought I would if that makes sense. Its the sort of film that after watching it, you need to go to the pub and have a few drinks and cigarettes while you discuss it with someone. (I of course didn't do this, I went home and made a veggie stir fry but that doesn't mean you can't have fun. And a nice alcoholic drink. Delicious... ) It's a very thought provoking piece of work but not in the way that I was expecting, and I highly recommend everyone to try and see it*. Even if all you do is come away from the cinema and call someone you haven't spoken to for a while it will be worth it.

* Not recommended for a first date though.

Dreams of A Life Trailer

On a much more cheery note, despite us supposedly battening down the financial hatches for 2012, The Wig and I purchased another print yesterday from Nelly Duff, on Columbia Road.

Nelly Duff Website

Some of the artwork here is quite pricey, but mostly I think its quite reasonable. (Although framing is not included in the prices).We bought a couple of pictures from there last year one being "When We Had Cows" by Ian McDonnell.

It's a gold foil print on grey paper showing the anatomy of a cow and the different cuts of meat that come from it, all surrounded by a lovely border of cows teats squirting out milk. (Snigger). So imagine our happiness when we saw that Ian had printed a new one, "When We Had Pigs" showing the anatomy of pigs! We just simply had to have it.

The only problem we have now is a distinct lack of wall space to hang everything, so we may have to wait to hang the pig one (with border of curly pigs tails, not quite as funny), until we move. But it will definitely be worth the wait.

After Nelly Duff we popped into the Electricity Showrooms in Shoreditch for a fish finger sandwich. I used to come here fairly often when I lived with The Baboon (my Ex) on Great Eastern Street and it used to be a bit of a dump (from what my wine addled brain can recall). However, now its a pretty nice place. It looks like an old pub these days, rather than a dirty white room for drunks and serves a nice selection of food for lunch. We had 2 x Ginger Beers, 2 x Fish Fingers Sandwiches + 1 x Portion of chips which came to £20.50, not too bad I didn't think.

The Electricity Showrooms

Fancy flashing peacock light on the way to the lav.

Terrible photo of the bar. Must get new camera.

Slightly dry sandwich.

My only complaint would be not enough Tartare sauce in the sarnie but thats a matter of personal taste / a craving. On the plus side, the staff were very nice and the chips were delicious.

I was rather hoping that today I could regale you with a, no doubt buttock cringing, tale of my first Pregnancy Yoga Class, but alas, I did not attend. I dont know if buttocks can actually cringe but I reckon mine could if they were forced to go to Yoga. As the weeks go by the reality is slowly dawning on me that in 4 months time, all being well, we are due to have someone very small and pink and possibly a bit noisy coming to live with us. Forever. Or at least until it goes to college or decides it hares us. Before this can happen though, the more terrifying prospect of me having to produce it from my nether regions is also dawning on me. Up until now I have tried not to dwell on this part of the equation too much as there really isn't much I can do about this now. As my friend said "It's got to come out one way or another and there's nothing you can do about it". Wise words. However, the other night, I plucked up the courage to watch "One Born Every Minute" as I thought it might be good research. Apart from bursting into tears when I met David Beckham several years ago on an Adidas shoot, this was probably the most stupid thing I have ever done. Being a highly squeamish individual I was mortified beyond belief. How this programme can be one of the most successful ever made is quite beyond me. Give me Countryfile any day of the week. Even Top Gear would be better and I hate Jeremy Clarkson, just ask the Wig. Anyway, the long and the short of it, is that I hyperventilated for around 27 minutes after getting half way through the episode and only calmed down after several distracting rounds of Solitaire on the Blackberry.

The next day, once I'd stopped crying and started breathing regularly again, I thought I really should man up. So we have joined an NCT class which starts in March (thank God The Wig is coming too) and I was also due to start Pregnancy Yoga in Bethnal Green today. For anyone that knows me they will know that Physical Movements of any sort are not really my thing. I wouldn't say I'm lazy, I just prefer sitting down. But apparently Yoga will put me in good stead for the horror of labour. I was pretty psyched up for it actually but unfortunately a rather odd pain developed in my hips yesterday afternoon so I thought I better not go. Another part of being pregnant which I had no idea about is all the weird little aches and pains you get. It makes sense if you think about it, that things will be moving around and stretching the further along you get with the pregnancy, but some of the weird aches are less than pleasant. The one I developed yesterday was so odd it has made walking only possible if I waddle by taking tiny steps. As you can imagine, I'm finding the whole thing highly embarrassing not to mention uncomfortable so I thought I'd better wait for it to ease up before I start trying to salute the sun or whatever it is that happens in Yoga. Shame.

Anyway, we have our 5 month (??!!)  scan on Monday at the hospital so I'll ask them about my waddling condition then. Hopefully they will say its nothing major and I can go to Yoga next Saturday. I can hardly wait . . .

Chase + Sorensen

I think I'm going to start carrying a Dictaphone around with me like my Dad used too. (On reflection, I've no idea why he did that). Every now and then I over hear such a ludicrous conversation that I can't quite believe my own ears. East London is rife for these kind of things. I know some of the things I write about could be viewed as ludicrous by some but at least I don't say it out loud.

Today's nugget involved Chaucer, Post Modernism, 1926 armchair design and Architecture. All in one sentence. Who knew it would be possible to be that pretentious that one could link these 4 subjects in one breath. What a load of old twoddle.  It was like listening to something from Nathan Barley and I would put money on the two walking cliches responsible to still be talking waffle while nursing their latte's in 2 hours time if I went back for an earwig. As I sat sarcastically snorting into my hot chocolate whilst rolling my eyes around so much there was a danger they were going to roll onto the floor, The Wig remarked that maybe I would prefer to only go to places where there were no other people. . . Rude.

Anyway, the location for this ridiculous conversation was a new(ish) 'place' on my road. I say its a 'place' as it is a furniture shop with a cafe inside. I'm not sure what the correct terminology is for such an establishment. A Furni-fe? A Ca-fiture Shop? Anyway, like all the other new things currently popping up in E8, I'm very excited about this place. Not because I want to buy any furniture but because I like drinking hot chocolate and eating things particularly if its within waddling distance of my front door.

Chase + Sorensen

Chase + Sorensen opened last autumn and sells Danish Furniture and home wares, along with Scandinavian type food. The interior of the 'place' reminds me rather of my Grandparents dining room, they loved a bit of Danish Rosewood. The idea at Chase + Sorenson is that you sit on the furniture that's for sale directly from the shop or from their website. This probably seemed like a good until I went in this afternoon and spilt my drink all over one of their vintage £255 coffee table's. Soz . . .

Today, as I haven't started back at work yet, I popped up the road for a spot of lunch. I really should have stayed home and sniffed something out from the back of the fridge to save a few quid, but what price can you put on a hot chocolate and a ham, cheese and Dijon mustard on sour dough open sandwich? £6. That's how much. Anyway, I'm glad I did as it was delicious! (Until I knocked it all over the table).

I don't know what sort of cheese they use, probably some fancy Scandinavian variety, but it was the best cheese I've had all year! And The Wig woofed his Smoked Mackerel and horseradish on rye down before you could say boo to a goose. Or something. 

So for any locals out there,  get yourself down there for a little smorgasbord and give these guys some support as it really is a very nice place. The only downside I have discovered is it does keep somewhat sporadic opening hours while they pop back to Denmark to buy more stock for the shop, but other than that it's a real little gem.

I'm sad to report though that after my wondrous lunch the day went somewhat downhill with an incident involving my lovely new sheepskin booties. I think God was getting me back for being a bitchy old crone to the two Chaucer Wally's. Basically the heavens opened up on me and it chucked it down all over me and my boots on way home. On their maiden voyage! So now, they are slightly soiled with rain marks however, it was a lesson learned and subsequently I have promised to never be rude about anyone ever again. For as long as I live. Forever and ever Amen. Or at least not whilst I'm wearing my delicious new furry footwear.

I hate Motorbikes / 'TT3D: Closer To The Edge'

My two brothers and I. 

 (My dog Pyjama Case whom I named Schnortbitz after the TV dog also seems to have somehow muscled in on both photo's).

One morning when I was 9 years old my mother called me and my two brothers into her bedroom. My older brother was 11 and my younger one was 2, a baby really.  As we all sat on the double bed she shared with my father, who had gone to work, she told us that she was leaving us to go and live somewhere else. At that age, or maybe any age, you can't have any understanding of the effect it will have on your life. Despite my best efforts I'm probably still affected by the fallout of that day even now, I think we all are and certainly my fathers life was utterly demolished by her decision to leave.

When my father arrived home from work that day he had no idea what would be waiting for him on his return. He used to tell me that as he walked towards the front door, he passed 3 little faces staring out the window from the front room and it was the saddest thing he had ever seen. We had been on our own all day waiting for him to come home. It must have been quite a sunny day as I remember taking my little brother into the garden while mum went and we sat in the paddling pool for a bit, but other than that I don't recall any more details. From that day our lives changed forever. My mother did return to the family home a few months later. Then left again. This happened 3 times in total, each time we were told she was staying, but the last time she left was the day before I started Secondary School. Superb timing...

I try not to think about those times too much as it just feels like a very sad situation, and when I look back it doesn't feel like my life, it feels like I'm watching a depressing documentary on 4OD that gives you stinging eyes. In spite of all the turmoil of everything that came after the breakdown of my parents marriage I think that my brothers and I have all turned out OK all things considered and that's really the only thing that matters to me now. It took quite some time to get to this point but I don't believe anything is solved by looking back. P.M.A. my friends, that's the answer. (Positive Mental Attitude). But all these years later there is still one thing that no amount of P.M.A is going to change my opinion of. Motorbikes. I absolutely can not stand them. Or people that ride them, even though I don't actually think I know anyone that rides one. As the mighty Bobby Brown once said 'Its my Prerogative' not to like Motorbikes. The reason being that the man that my mother left us for, worked at the local Petrol Station (this point particularly aggravated my father) and drove a Honda Gold Wing. For those that don't know, a Gold Wing is a huge Touring Motorbike occasionally used for stealing peoples wives/mothers to take them on bike riding tours of Europe. Since The March Hare does not discriminate, the hatred for Motorbikes is not exclusive to the Honda Gold Wing, just all motorbikes really. And that is my little story of why I hate Motorbikes.

HOWEVER, having said all of that, last night I watched an absolutely brilliant film about Motorbike racing, 'TT3D: Closer To The Edge'.  It's a documentary based on a Motorbike race that is held on the Isle of Man each year and has been running since the beginning of the last Century.

Isle of Man Tourist Trophy

The Island virtually shuts down while the race takes place on the public roads during the course of several days each year. The tournament came about as the Motor Car Act of 1903 put a national speed limit on all UK roads of 20mph (if I was in charge, this would be resurrected), but this rule did not apply to the Isle of Man so a load of bike and car enthusiasts went over to the island and had a race there! Now however, bikes can go a lot faster, many of them reaching speeds of up to 170mph at various places along the course. Since the race began over 230 people have died taking part and many more have been injured in one way or another. And it all takes place on the public roads! Terrifying.

'TT3D . . .' focuses on one particular rider, Guy Martin, who is one of the most eccentric characters I have seen in a long while. He's brilliant, and really does make an interesting documentary more fascinating. I don't want to say too much about the film other than I suggest watching it, and you can see the trailer if you click the link below:

TT3D : Closer To The Edge official trailer

Guy Martin's Web page

Despite the subject matter, I would score 'TT3D . . .' a high 9 helmets out of a possible 10 (I'm knocking a point off as Guy Martin has such a strong Northern accent in some parts that I couldn't understand what he was saying) but other than that, I have nothing but good things to say about this film. It was excellently narrated by the hunky Jared Leto, it had some awesome footage in it and was totally gripping. I still hate Motorbikes though.

Bobby Brown 'My Prerogative'

The future is now.

Happy New Year to one and all!

Well, the future is here! Its finally arrived, 2012, the year of many exciting things. For example, we have the Queens 60th Jubilee Celebrations (literally CAN NOT wait for this), The Olympics are coming to town (and we have tickets! And its 2 miles down the road!) , and all being well, a little May Leveret. (A baby hare).

Although its super exciting to be looking forward it's also quite nice to look back at the previous year and reflect on certain things that have happened. 2011 was actually a really great year for The Wig and I, and proof I think, that if you take control of your life and eliminate certain negative situations, people etc from the equation, then anything is possible. A phrase I often use, which I stole from an Ad Agency big wig is "you need to shit or get off the pot". Not very ladylike I know but a really good phrase which I think means, if you aren't happy with something, don't moan, do something about it. You hold the key to your own destiny, Or something.

Anyway, our greatest achievement's / successes of 2011, in no particular order, were:

* Becoming Freelance, and it going surprisingly well.
* The Wig passing his driving test and buying his first car. Bravo Wig.
* Resolving the Freehold purchase of my flat, meaning we can finally move or rent it out. Yay.
* Visiting Sweden, Turkey, Lille and the UK on our road trip.
* Blac Ionica winning a Cannes Gold Award. Amazing.
* Blac Ionica writing, directing and funding a music video/short film and it going down a storm.
* Getting the heating fixed. This was a huge achievement. 
* Organising (and canceling) a wedding.
* Creating a new life. The best thing of all.

So for next year, things I would like to achieve are, also in no particular order:

* To have more hair cuts.
* To keep working for as long as possible.
* To be more regular with the blogs again.
* To not die giving birth.

And thats pretty much it really.

So 2012 is shaping up pretty nicely so far. We had a very quiet Yew Years Eve, due to The Wig's terrible sickness...ahem...so we stayed in and watched telly, managing against all odds to stay awake for the London fireworks at midnight. Weren't they amazing?! Then straight to sleep. So this morning, I awoke for the first time in living memory to start the New Year without a hangover. I really never thought I would see the day.  As if that wasn't amazing enough, The Wig cooked me breakfast, what a treat.

To make 7 x Wiggy's breakfast pancakes (my photo + presentation really doesn't do them justice):

1. Sieve together 135g of Self raising flour, 2 tablespoons of castor sugar, a pinch of salt, 1/2 table spoon of baking powder and mix.
2. In a separate bowl, pour 130ml of milk, add 2 tablespoons of melted butter and 1 egg yolk. Lightly beat together.
3. Once thoroughly mixed combine the dry ingredients with the milk, butter and egg mixture to make a batter.
4. Whisk the egg white until fluffy then fold in slowly to the batter mixture.
5. Heat a pan over a medium heat and melt a knob of butter in it.
6. Dollop a 2 inch round blob of the batter into the hot pan, cook it on one side then flip it to cook the other side.
7. Serve with Creme Fraiche, lemon juice and maple syrup. Yumsters!

After breakfast we went to Epping Forset for a walk in the woods which is about 1/2 an hours drive from the flat. I thought perhaps some fresh woodland air might help the invalid's lungs on the road to recovery...

Holly Tree

Christmas Decorations.

Lovely Lichen.

Hawthorns maybe...?

...unfortunately after 43 minutes it pissed down like no ones business, so that put an end to that particular outing. However, I soon recovered from the disappointment when we got home as my absolute favorite film of all time was on the shit box. Heaven.

So Happy New year everyone, and my best wishes to you all for a happy and healthy 2012. 

Its going to be a great one, and if it doesn't feel like thats the case,  you better "shit or get off the pot!". And I mean that in the nicest possible way. Love from The March Hare x x