Something from the weekend

It’s official - April 2007 has been the hottest ever since they first started counting 348 years ago. While Australia and other hot countries freeze, we tromp down to the beaches, bracing our skin for a good roasting…well, kind of.

The sun fanciers (AKA everybody) were out in full weekend mode - on Saturday in Acton and then yesterday at Brick Lane. Gees, what a difference a few miles makes. In the West we have the most extraordinary bunch of people I’ve seen in a while. Some perfectly regular, others, not so much…





nd over East we’re talking about an all day runway show of looks that you can’t quite believe are happening. Speaking of fashion, I was rung up by Vogue the other day. They are doing a piece on lady van drivers and wanted to set up a shoot with me and Jimmy. ‘Brilliant!’ I said, ‘who else have you got?’ and was thrilled to discover there’s a company called Lady Gadriver - an all female team of handywomen (I could use some tips).

They wanted to shoot me somewhere urban and found a place under the Westway. A make-up artist arrived at 6.30am to do my hair and slap and then we drove to meet the others at the location. Most of the (four hour) session was spent taking pics of me eating my wares with a big cheesy grin on my face. The most challenging shot being up on the roof (hadn’t tried that one before and it gave me the opportunity to relieve Jimmy of a cheeky little teabag that seemed to have taken root up there) - I had to clamber up with three ice creams (chocolate, Mexican chocolate and mocha FYI) and lay into them lasciviously. After about half an hour of this, a few ice cream changes and a whole network of brown sticky lines streaming down my arms, I felt a bit sick (I don’t recommend it).

Oh, and now let me introduce you to the latest in deliciousness on wheels - my friend Simon has decided to bring Latin American street food to town with Jesus, the mint green dream machine. Look out for Luardos cruising around this summer!

Onwards and upwards...

Hey choc-van fans, I haven’t penned any e-words in eons. There is the dubious matter of my being rendered delirious and near-hospitalised by a bout of pneumonia. My granny blames me going ‘galavanting to Dublin without an overcoat’. She thinks I don’t put enough clothes on, but then she is fairly old school - with a tendency for rather Dickensian viewpoints. She’s absolute gold dust though, with a fire in her eyes and a teflon sensibility that I hope to have some of when I’m 90…must be the Irish in her!

Alanna and I headed off for a weekend of shenanigans in stag party city. I have never seen anything like it - save for, perhaps New Orleans in the French Quarter. A city centre so rampantly amuck with binge drinking, quick fixing out of towners that the whole thing felt like being in a particularly booze-sodden theme park. Temple Bar sure was heaving with heavers but, once we’d managed to navigate our way around the piles of chunder that lay dumped in steaming mounds at every turn, we soon found our radars and headed North.



On the South side of Dublin the idea of hanging out on the other side of the river is unthinkable - a sense that the North side doesn’t tally with the city’s new and prosperous image. Well, that’s great, but there was a football match on - a really poignant one - and the only place we wanted to watch it was in a boozer close to Croke Park. We walked the entire length of Lower Dorset Street, entering every pub along the way, wanting to find the right one until, there it was, our oasis - The Auld Triangle.
For the next seven hours we were inducted into the ways of the stronghold group inside. Derek and Sean and Paddy and Aiden. Mickey, Alfie, Johnny and Paul. We emerged astonished, frankly, to be still sentient. My doctor tells me she thinks I had already caught my infection before I went to Ireland but, between me and you, I doubt if my jingle-jangle in the Auld Triangle was especially helpful…



And now here in London all is summery. The ice cream is back in action. The hot chocolate cravings have retreated and been replaced by a demand for iced mocha milkshakes, scoops of mint choc-chip (new flavour!) and almond, orange and brandy chilled chocolate torte. Come and get some if you’re around!

Take me home, country roads

Here’s Jimmy hanging out in Lavenham a few days ago. I picked him up from the wilds of North Suffolk and we bounced along at our usual leisurely pace - taking in a bit of Bury St Edmunds to see what was new (not a great deal, but everything just looks so much smaller than I remember), then down to Lav’nam and on to the village of 100 people where I grew up.The winter sun fell steady on the ravaged countryside. A sludgy, untidy looking time of year anyway, the storm of the other week had really been busy - uprooting trees that had been around for years, churning up fences, shooting holes in the roofs - all things I hadn’t been aware of in London. I pottered around quite happily for a bit, then went over to Tash and Noches to catch up after their two month stay over in Jamaica. My three year old god-daughter Zahara goes around singing Buju Banton and talking in her new little patois chat and her sister Mya tried to show me some of the dances, but came over all shy and giggly halfway into it…I’m not surprised! There’s one called the Dutty Wine which involves some pretty vigorous neck spinning - apparently it’s common to see girls being carried off after fainting from giving it too much turn!

So anyway, I left Suffolk after a few days and returned Jimmy to London. We’ve got back into the flow of things at Brick Lane and done a couple of really fun parties. While the chocolate martini shots have been seized very heartily by all who come near, so too has the Venezuelan hot chocolate…there’s a bit of a beast to be fed here and I’m a touch nervous as the supplies are dwindling. My Chuao connection, Willie, is in the midst of setting up his very own mini chocolate factory down in the West country and the beans are en route…but not processed. It’ll be worth it in the end though as I’ll have access to a magical supply of pure, single estate cocoa liquor - the things I want to do with that stuff set my heart a flutter! (So please be patient if I have to cross the Ven Hot Choc off the board for a couple of weeks).

Now, one more thing before I go. On Monday night I was invited to a steak extravaganza at Hawksmoor. I’ve been in there enough times before, propping up the bar, munching on the thrice cooked chips and getting intimate with many different bourbon based drinks (courtesy of the lovely Lucas and the hilarious Jorge), but their steak and me had not yet met. Well, we have now and it’s all rosy. Great juicy slivers of Sirloin and chunky discs of Chateaubriand kept arriving on my plate, whereupon I’d gather them up on my fork with some Bearnaise sauce and proceed to enter That Place. You know the one - where voices and noise fade away, the eyes close and, for a moment…you can’t be reached. Joyous, indulgent escape.



And then came this little fella - the Chocolate Sazerac. I’m a big fan of this cocktail anyway, but when they made it with chocolate-infused bourbon and creme de cacao I could barely contain my delight. I usually stay away from anything too sweet with drinks, but this guy is bad. It’s Sean Penn in a glass with a Jay-Z twist and I’m going to be hunting down that recipe and executing it at home, in the van and wherever else I can find.

Cali calling!

Oh my God, I’m so excited - running around like a nutter getting ready to go away on my research trip / roadtrip to San Francisco and up. The way they do things in the Bay Area is right up my street. Loads of milkshakes, ice cream, cake and chocolate! MMmmmmmm and I’ll be sampling all of it.

My mum and me go off on these great trips and have a right old laugh. She’s so much fun and likes picking up weirdos and freaks almost as much as I do (plenty of them over there). We always end up in these extraordinary situations. Usually it’s to the Deep South where up in the mountains and down in the woods it’s all about moonshine and ‘coon hunting, listening to the blues in rundown old shacks and gittin’ greasy with the soulfood!

This trip will be quite tree-huggy I suspect and I relish the chance to get into that Emerald Triangle up in Humboldt County - gimme some of that good Pacific Coast air….So I’ll write all about it. In the meantime I leave the lovely Millie in charge of Jimmy. The van will be back in position on Brick Lane from now on into the hot chocolate months.

I’ve got to go and catch that plane now - 11 hours of doing absolutely nothing. Bring it on!