March 3, 2006
Oh.
I am far more disappointed than the preceding post would suggest. It is strange to so consciously do something wrong, and be surprised when it turns out badly.
March 3, 2006
The story of a batch of brownies
(or how to go terribly terribly wrong…)
It is always hard to tell where I go wrong when I am cooking or baking, mostly because there are so many opportunities for disaster to step in. First, I buy a UK edition of a cookbook because it’s the cheapest available online. I don’t think about what that means about measurements and temperatures. I don’t let that dissuade me from my project either. And then, on top of having to convert all my ingredients based on a probably very wrong estimation that 100 grams equals half a cup, I decide to break the recipe in half because a) it makes 48 brownies and b) my only cake tin is nowhere close to the size and proportions the recipe suggests. Another problem I just noticed is that I seem to think recipes “suggest” things rather than “demand” them. Anyway, after all the numbers madness, I decided to use the kind of sugar I have rather than caster sugar, to use chocolate chips rather than chocolate squares because they’re cheaper and poured in a tablespoon of salt rather than a teaspoon and had to scoop it out again. And picked up my flour cannister by its top and it nearly fell off, pouring flour behind my fridge. But I didn’t. And none of this is my attempt to become the Anti-Nigella, this crazed Bridget Jonesian wacky housewife (who is far too obsessed with archetypes from British popular culture). I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just wanted to be a domestic goddess. Anyway, the brownies are in the oven. This should be interesting. Anyone want to do my washing up?
March 3, 2006
Night Falls
It’s strange that the sun goes down behind Ossington Avenue now. When we lived in Northwest England, it used to fall in the sea.
March 2, 2006
All aboard for Utrecht!
Today is exciting, because my new PenPal project begins. Inspired by the new book Between Friends: A Year in Letters, my fabulous friend Bronwyn Enright are going to start exchanging letters regularly. Each letter must be answered within ten days, and contain a print-based treat of some sort. I will write the first one tonight, and mail it tomorrow.
In further excitement, why not let’s go to Utrecht? The Guardian is all Miffy manic of late- naturally. There is a new Dick Bruna museum in Utrecht, and the second tallest building in the city has a seven foot pair of her ears attached to it. And today is something called World Book Day, which means that the Guardian Books section is all abuzzing. And I have received a book in the post today, and yesterday, and tomorrow will be sad when it proves to be bookless. Unless somebody has sent me a present?
I am now reading Reading Lolita in Tehran, and so far it’s wonderful. It’s strange to be learning about two very disconnected ideas (literature and Iranian history) at the same time. And still on Woolf in Ceylon, which is such a weird book. I am enjoying it, as I have been really interested in colonial history lately, but Woolf was Ondaatje’s excuse to write a travelogue. There are so many gaps in Woolf’s interest that Ondaatje tries to contextualise, and this reads awkwardly. As in, “I don’t know why Woolf was so uninterested in the flora and fauna of this particular town, which I will elaborate upon for the remainder of this chapter”. Or some such thing. I am also reading the poetry of PK Page, who is coming to our class on Monday. And further, Camilla Gibb is reading at Massey College next Wednesday. And I only have to wait until October for Margaret Drabble’s new novel!
March 1, 2006
Mardi Gras
Well, all is well with the world because Heather Mallick is back!. And we just returned from a wonderful Pancake Day fiesta chez SH that put the fat back in Fat Tuesday.
February 27, 2006
Cupcake
Isn’t it weird that the very day I vow never to buy The Globe and Mail ever again, Leah McLaren opts out of the blogosphere? She is tired, she writes, of
bitter unpublished writers venomously slagging published ones — their terrible spelling, poorly constructed sentences and outrageous amounts of displaced hatred and envy a testimony to why they became bloggers in the first place.
I am just tired of the worst Saturday paper I’ve ever read (and I used to read The Asahi Shimbun so that’s saying something). I guess it’s The Guardian Online for me then!
Last night I got drunk and ordered Nigella’s How to be a Domestic Goddess off amazon used. It was an act of impetuosity and spendthriftery, but I have wanted this book for many years and I am confident that it will change my entire life. Will keep you posted.
Ottawa was brilliant! And cold. Thursday, we went to the Parliament Buildings and Sparks Street, and had a wonderful dins etc. with Sues and Lo. On Friday, we went out for lunch, went to the Ottawa Nicholas Hoare, spent the whole day at the Art Gallery, ate Beaver Tails, froze our bums, went out for a wonderful dinner and drinks and lived like the rich. Saturday was a blizzard and awful, so we didn’t leave the house but the four of us were quite compatible, and spent a pleasant Saturday listening to music, watching Little Britain, reading, cooking and enjoying excellent company. We came home this morning, and we’re entirely sick of busses. Oh, but for the love mini breaks. It was brilliant.
February 26, 2006
Sweetness in the Belly
I am not proud that I don’t read a lot of international fiction- a sad fact that limits me as a reader, a writer, and a human being. I can think of a few translations I’ve read during the past while, so I am not the uberculprit- however I must admit that sometimes I find books in translation awkward to read, and that the “novel” form can vary so much that novels from other cultures do not always deliver what I look for in a book. I don’t always read the books that I “should” read, because life is little and I read for pleasure. And there is my defense, but in short, I am a bit ashamed of it all.
So there it stands, but today I did finish reading Sweetness in the Belly by Camilla Gibb. And whadda book, oh my goodness. I closed it finally with such a surge of teary-eyed joy and sadness. If you have ever wanted to read a book, read this one. Full stop. It is a thing of beauty, an educative tool, a small-world maker and a pleasure to read. Camilla Gibb is a Canadian writer who did extensive field work in Ethiopia during the 1990s. She has created a masterpiece, the story of Lilly, a white Muslim woman living in the Ethiopian city of Harar during the 1970s. The story goes back and forth between her life there, and her “present” in 1980s London. You wouldn’t call Gibb the Bob Geldof of the literary set (less histrionics) but her story made Africa and Ethiopia real to me like nothing else ever has before. Lilly- the inside outsider- made the story so accessible. She was my portal into that world, and I so appreciated the opportunity. What a fascinating literary device- one that must be in amazingly adept hands in order to be fully effective. And oh yes, it is.
None of this means I don’t still suck- I just feel a little more awake than I did before.
February 23, 2006
My brilliant friends
I’m fortunate to have met some incredibly brilliant friends in my time (like say Erin or Mike, not to mention those who don’t maintain weblogs). I would like to introduce another of my amazing comrades, Ms. Natalie Bay. We met about four years ago while both working as tour guides in Ottawa, right before I moved to England. We met up again about two years after that as we were both working in Japan at the same time, though at that point Natalie was finishing up the Nippon life and on her way to live in England. Good news is that we’re getting together next week, but also that her website is wonderful. She is a very talented photographer, as her photos of Ghana and Japan will attest. Plus, the Japanese pictures bring back some beautiful memories.
In other wonderful people news (anyone tell I’ve been into the wine?) we had such a lovely dinner downstairs with Curtis. He’s a great guy, and cooked us a good meal. He and Stuart get along really well (they’re still down there) and I think we’re really lucky to have him for a neighbour. We’ve decided to make our dinner fetes-semi regular.
See you apres Ottawa. My cousin’s boyfriend is French Canadian and I have an appalling tendency to desecrate his language constantly in his presence. Il m’embrasse avec la lange mais je n’ais pas les sentiments pour lui. Indeed.
February 22, 2006
The reader becomes a maniac
I’ve been very into marathon reading this year (which is why I’ve read 27 books already this year!) because I love the idea of a book in a sitting. Unfortunately I read Fight Club in one sitting last night, and it had a terrible effect upon my personality. Now I am impressionable at the best of times: I can’t watch Law and Order without becoming terribly argumentative, upon CSI the whole world is a potential crime scene, I remember walking out after “Coyote Ugly” (that in itself embarrassing) and feeling quite sure that indeed I couldn’t “fight the moonlight”. And after Fight Club, which was a foray into darkness and the dark crept under my skin, I was reasonably sure I was harboring split personalities and me cannon got a bit loose if you know what I am saying. Once I put it all down to over-susceptibility, I felt a bit better but it was still a little bizarre. I think I need to read an Archie comic as an antidote.
Today is down to laundry, essay research, rewriting my Monica Lang poem, and baking a cake for dinner at our downstairs neighbours tonight. And still counting down to the mini-break.
