Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Global Warming watch: the price of a loaf of bread
“The price of a loaf of bread is set to break through the £1 barrier because of the soaring cost of wheat. . .
. . . Poor wheat harvests in major producing countries such as the United States, Australia, Argentina and Ukraine, and increasing demand, helped push the price of wheat up 35 per cent in 2006 to its highest level for a decade.
Some commodity traders call wheat ‘the new gold’. They believe a combination of the failed production, global population growth and a growing demand for wheat to created bioethanol as an almost pollution-free fuel for cars and trucks mean its price is set to go on rising.”
The article doesn’t speculate as to why there is a worldwide collapse of the wheat harvest. Global warming, anyone? ~ if so, this ironically would neatly limit the scope of the bioethanol industry in future years.
. . . Poor wheat harvests in major producing countries such as the United States, Australia, Argentina and Ukraine, and increasing demand, helped push the price of wheat up 35 per cent in 2006 to its highest level for a decade.
Some commodity traders call wheat ‘the new gold’. They believe a combination of the failed production, global population growth and a growing demand for wheat to created bioethanol as an almost pollution-free fuel for cars and trucks mean its price is set to go on rising.”
The article doesn’t speculate as to why there is a worldwide collapse of the wheat harvest. Global warming, anyone? ~ if so, this ironically would neatly limit the scope of the bioethanol industry in future years.
Tudor bastards!
The Holbein exhibition inspired several debates about the Tudors.
J regarded Henry VIII as a mediocre king, but C and I argued his impact on English infrastructure and culture was immense – and obviously pretty malign mostly. The Idi Amin of renaissance Europe.
The Monasteries of the time would have been largely responsible for education, agriculture, and medical services – all of which would have ceased upon Dissolution, with all the money grabbed going to pay for Henry’s luxurious lifestyle and the military instead. His selfish, expedient and hypocritical conversion of the state religion to Protestantism would cause centuries of problems for the country.
But strangely enough it goes even further – according to the Observer, Henry’s Preservation of Grain Act (1532) made it compulsory for every man, woman and child across the kingdom to kill as many creatures as possible that appeared on an official list of ‘vermin’. Quotas for each village were enforced and fines levied against those who did not perform.
Many of the ‘vermin’ were classed as such because of medieval superstition. Hedgehogs were driven to near-extinction because it was believed they sucked milk from the teats of recumbent cows at night. The bounty on hedgehogs was 4p, a huge sum in those days. Hundreds of thousands of the little things were murdered. Also persecuted were woodpeckers and kingfishers.
Interestingly, the wildlife persecution was so successful (the laws remained in place for about 200 years) that many of the animal populations have still not recovered and are threatened with extinction today. So the malign Tudor influence lives on.
J regarded Henry VIII as a mediocre king, but C and I argued his impact on English infrastructure and culture was immense – and obviously pretty malign mostly. The Idi Amin of renaissance Europe.
The Monasteries of the time would have been largely responsible for education, agriculture, and medical services – all of which would have ceased upon Dissolution, with all the money grabbed going to pay for Henry’s luxurious lifestyle and the military instead. His selfish, expedient and hypocritical conversion of the state religion to Protestantism would cause centuries of problems for the country.
But strangely enough it goes even further – according to the Observer, Henry’s Preservation of Grain Act (1532) made it compulsory for every man, woman and child across the kingdom to kill as many creatures as possible that appeared on an official list of ‘vermin’. Quotas for each village were enforced and fines levied against those who did not perform.
Many of the ‘vermin’ were classed as such because of medieval superstition. Hedgehogs were driven to near-extinction because it was believed they sucked milk from the teats of recumbent cows at night. The bounty on hedgehogs was 4p, a huge sum in those days. Hundreds of thousands of the little things were murdered. Also persecuted were woodpeckers and kingfishers.Interestingly, the wildlife persecution was so successful (the laws remained in place for about 200 years) that many of the animal populations have still not recovered and are threatened with extinction today. So the malign Tudor influence lives on.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Entitled
Names and titles sometimes are so evocative. I randomly collect them; my favourite title so far is “Keeper of the Imperial Inkpot” – apparently the title of a high-ranking functionary at the court of the Byzantine Emperors.
Holbein’s sitters’ titles are less glamorous, partly because a lot of them are current (the United Kingdom is the last European country still in the ancien régime phase of political development).
These caught my eye:
“Clerk of the King’s Signet”
“Page of the Chamber”
However nothing in Henry’s time can match “Silver Stick in Waiting”, a title held in Eizabeth II’s court today.
Tudor names can be glorious:
Cyriacus Hale
Cecily Heron
Lady Meutas
William Parr (younger brother of Queen Catherine Parr)
Ok, the last name is nothing really special. I was just touched by the drawing of the young dude – very much a young dude; I would imagine him as a skater-type boy today. He had a long life for the time, so he definitely survived his sister’s beheading.
Holbein’s sitters’ titles are less glamorous, partly because a lot of them are current (the United Kingdom is the last European country still in the ancien régime phase of political development).
These caught my eye:
“Clerk of the King’s Signet”
“Page of the Chamber”
However nothing in Henry’s time can match “Silver Stick in Waiting”, a title held in Eizabeth II’s court today.
Tudor names can be glorious:
Cyriacus Hale
Cecily Heron
Lady Meutas
William Parr (younger brother of Queen Catherine Parr)
Ok, the last name is nothing really special. I was just touched by the drawing of the young dude – very much a young dude; I would imagine him as a skater-type boy today. He had a long life for the time, so he definitely survived his sister’s beheading.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Holbein
Holbein at Tate Britain. Pile-up of the usual Tudor worthies – the Cheneys and Precotts, Bushes and Blairs of their day.
And crowded before them in a crushing last-day scrum, last-minute Londoners and visitors from across the world. Credit to the Tate’s staff who kept the whole thing running efficiently.
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My preference is for the Italian renaissance artists – somehow they seem to pull all elements of painting together into a (self-consciously) stylish whole; the Northerns seem to have a weirdly ‘detail-up’ approach in which a painting becomes an aggregate of individual elements which don't cohere in a satisfying way. It’s a different way of seeing, and it certainly can be impressive in the hands of talents like Van Eyck or Holbein (to name just two); and certainly the Italians themselves were blown away by the oil technique; but I don’t appreciate the Northern lack of stylistic fluency. This lack was ultimately remedied by Rubens (extensively schooled in Italian art), and thereafter the somewhat additive Northern manner dies out.
Holbein loves the human face and captures completely convincingly unposed and fleeting expressions – without being able to work from photographs, so really very impressive indeed. His preference for the human subject is proven by the drawings, in all of which the faces are the parts most developed. The luxurious paraphernalia of dress and jewellery is developed in the finished paintings, not the drawings.
And crowded before them in a crushing last-day scrum, last-minute Londoners and visitors from across the world. Credit to the Tate’s staff who kept the whole thing running efficiently.
.jpg)
My preference is for the Italian renaissance artists – somehow they seem to pull all elements of painting together into a (self-consciously) stylish whole; the Northerns seem to have a weirdly ‘detail-up’ approach in which a painting becomes an aggregate of individual elements which don't cohere in a satisfying way. It’s a different way of seeing, and it certainly can be impressive in the hands of talents like Van Eyck or Holbein (to name just two); and certainly the Italians themselves were blown away by the oil technique; but I don’t appreciate the Northern lack of stylistic fluency. This lack was ultimately remedied by Rubens (extensively schooled in Italian art), and thereafter the somewhat additive Northern manner dies out.Holbein loves the human face and captures completely convincingly unposed and fleeting expressions – without being able to work from photographs, so really very impressive indeed. His preference for the human subject is proven by the drawings, in all of which the faces are the parts most developed. The luxurious paraphernalia of dress and jewellery is developed in the finished paintings, not the drawings.
Resolutions
I resolve never to attend temporary exhibitions on their closing weekends.
Especially not with relatives from out-of-town who (a) separate into two parties upon arrival in London; (b) collectively have no idea about time or long it may take to get (for example) from the Science Museum to the Tate; and (c) have an aversion to answering their mobile ‘phones or (d) don’t ‘phone you when they get involved in spontaneous and exciting good Samaritan missions to aid completely random little old ladies from Pimlico with their weekly shopping.
On the plus side, I can report that the Computer Games exhibition at the Science Museum is apparently totally engrossing.
I resolve never to attend exhibitions on their closing weekends on rainy afternoons when the cloakroom queue at the Tate is 5 miles long.
Especially not with relatives from out-of-town who (a) separate into two parties upon arrival in London; (b) collectively have no idea about time or long it may take to get (for example) from the Science Museum to the Tate; and (c) have an aversion to answering their mobile ‘phones or (d) don’t ‘phone you when they get involved in spontaneous and exciting good Samaritan missions to aid completely random little old ladies from Pimlico with their weekly shopping.
On the plus side, I can report that the Computer Games exhibition at the Science Museum is apparently totally engrossing.
I resolve never to attend exhibitions on their closing weekends on rainy afternoons when the cloakroom queue at the Tate is 5 miles long.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Whiskers
According to Joe.My.God. and Evilganome, beards are in and they are hot. Woof! I’m cresting on this trend, as I seem to have given up shaving since Boxing Day. Hairy Hedgie, that’s me.
Never before in my adult life have I ever grown any facial fuzz (so inhibited was I by parental prohibition) so I feel weirdly rebellious. Striking a blow for freedom for facial follicles.
Alas, yet to achieve the sort of recognition that Joe and Evilganome report, but I can attest that ladies of a certain age seem to find me irresistible. My neighbour squealed with delight when she saw me (she says she likes beards – and come to think about it her husband is fully bearded), and on my way to the Tate in the rain I was picked up by a lost and discombobulated Mittel-European in a fur coat and plastic hairdo-protector who requested my assistance in breaking into the arts college next door. She was under the impression that that was the Tate and was puzzled that it seemed to be locked.
And yes, ok, a handsome young man inside the Tate gave me a lingering look. Woof!
Never before in my adult life have I ever grown any facial fuzz (so inhibited was I by parental prohibition) so I feel weirdly rebellious. Striking a blow for freedom for facial follicles.
Alas, yet to achieve the sort of recognition that Joe and Evilganome report, but I can attest that ladies of a certain age seem to find me irresistible. My neighbour squealed with delight when she saw me (she says she likes beards – and come to think about it her husband is fully bearded), and on my way to the Tate in the rain I was picked up by a lost and discombobulated Mittel-European in a fur coat and plastic hairdo-protector who requested my assistance in breaking into the arts college next door. She was under the impression that that was the Tate and was puzzled that it seemed to be locked.
And yes, ok, a handsome young man inside the Tate gave me a lingering look. Woof!
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Saturday in London
I like winter when it gets extreme – really cold, so one can be cosy inside; or really snowy, so we can enjoy silly city snow fun and bond over all the urban transport disconnects; or when it really rains like it did on Saturday.
I love the weak grey light mixed with the warm and blinking city lights, the drifts of sparkling raindrops, the towering skeletal trees. Everyone bundled up; umbrellas floating through the dusky half-light.
And then into the tube where we bake and steam.
I love the weak grey light mixed with the warm and blinking city lights, the drifts of sparkling raindrops, the towering skeletal trees. Everyone bundled up; umbrellas floating through the dusky half-light.
And then into the tube where we bake and steam.
Friday, January 05, 2007
January market forces
New Year in Sainsbury's - Hedgie takes his place amongst the assembled hordes standing in front of the chilled soups section, all looking hopelessly at the near-empty shelves.
Jeez. I'm not on diet! I just feel like soup at this time of year.
However - over in the snacks section: Pringles half price! Yay!
So it's Pringles for dinner :-)
Washed down with copious quantities of G&T.
Jeez. I'm not on diet! I just feel like soup at this time of year.
However - over in the snacks section: Pringles half price! Yay!
So it's Pringles for dinner :-)
Washed down with copious quantities of G&T.
Bottled water causes global warming
The backlash starts here. The Londonist makes a strong case:
"London tap water is essentially free, has zero carbon footprint, does not add to landfill, is supposedly better regulated than most bottled varieties and tastes better than other regional tap waters. So why aren't the eco-warriors getting their teeth into the issue in a big way?
Selfridges have just upped the ante by selling a half litre of water for a ridiculous £2.79. And it's flown or shipped in all the way from the Catskills in New York State. This is stupid. And anyone who buys a bottle is a crazy, irresponsible foo'."
"London tap water is essentially free, has zero carbon footprint, does not add to landfill, is supposedly better regulated than most bottled varieties and tastes better than other regional tap waters. So why aren't the eco-warriors getting their teeth into the issue in a big way?
Selfridges have just upped the ante by selling a half litre of water for a ridiculous £2.79. And it's flown or shipped in all the way from the Catskills in New York State. This is stupid. And anyone who buys a bottle is a crazy, irresponsible foo'."
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Desperate Housewives
OMG! Most classic Bree line ever ~
"I don't do that! I'm a Republican!"
It's back! Yay Yay Yay Yay Yay Yay Yay!
"I don't do that! I'm a Republican!"
It's back! Yay Yay Yay Yay Yay Yay Yay!
Pan's Labyrinth
I saw the trailer and was entranced with the visuals – but then Mark Kermode’s Five Live podcast (around 9:50 in the stream) really motivated me to go. I was half listening, but vaguely gathered Mr Kermode’s extreme enthusiasm for this movie – in the same league as ‘Citizen Kane’blah blah blah.
I actually tend to agree. The genius of the film is its extreme ambiguity: we never really know for sure if the fantasy is ‘real’ or just a child’s fantasy – and even within the fantasy Pan is a deeply dubious moral figure. The fantasy can be read as the child’s psychological attempt to cope with the reality of her situation: but the movie shows, over and over again, all the adult characters telling, believing, living their lives by stories – ultimately, Fascism itself is a kind of story being imposed on Spanish reality. Reality keeps biting back, for all the characters, creating narrative challenges which are then incorporated in yet more narrative. Narrative is a force of nature for us – we can’t do without it, and yet what we believe leads us to destruction.
Right at the beginning the heroine Ofelia’s weak and sickly pregnant mother derides the child’s continuing belief in fairytales yet tries to force a new story on the girl – asking her to call the Captain ‘father’ – “it’s just a word” she says. Big error.
The evil stepfather Captain totally identifies with his own father’s ‘hero’ story and one sees his skill in manipulating narrative – in the torture scene in particular, where he excrutiatingly plays on the victim’s and viewers' imaginations, making the scene virtually unwatchable, even though the actual violence is far less graphic than elsewhere in the film. The most vital thing in the Captain's life is that his own story will be passed safely on to his son - even at the expense of the baby's mother's health.
The movie is about narrative and humanity’s slavery to narrative; about our use of narrative to control or explain or justify our moral choices. Guillermo del Toro shows narrative to be a powerful yet amoral fact of human existence. What moral salvation there can be for us is predicated on an attempt to escape the rote demands of following the narrative; by questioning the narrative that imprisons us.
Criticism that the film does not adequately integrate the two narrative streams does not recognise the major thematic links between the two halves, or the extent to which the film is a meta-narrative, unaligned to either genre but instead utilising both. And to be absolutely fair, the editing links between reality and fantasy are amongst the most bravura and extraordinary I have ever seen.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Christmas Joy: Freezing Fog
Will Duguid in today's Guardian:
"Freezing fog: what's not to like? I like to think I'm a caring kind of guy, even where arrogant sociopaths who pollute the skies are concerned, but - respect to all you air passengers huddled in your blankets out there - don't you think this might be the planet trying to tell you something?
And if, like me, you're lucky enough to be snug as a bug in a well-insulated home, doesn't this have to be one of the best environmental stories of the year? Don't you love Nature herself finally taking over, to ground the planes that helped make this the hottest year in history, forcing everyone on to trains and coaches instead? Sorry, but ever since this fog thing started, I haven't been able to wipe the smile off my face."
"Freezing fog: what's not to like? I like to think I'm a caring kind of guy, even where arrogant sociopaths who pollute the skies are concerned, but - respect to all you air passengers huddled in your blankets out there - don't you think this might be the planet trying to tell you something?
And if, like me, you're lucky enough to be snug as a bug in a well-insulated home, doesn't this have to be one of the best environmental stories of the year? Don't you love Nature herself finally taking over, to ground the planes that helped make this the hottest year in history, forcing everyone on to trains and coaches instead? Sorry, but ever since this fog thing started, I haven't been able to wipe the smile off my face."
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Friday, December 01, 2006
Clapham Common
I've started a group on flickr for Clapham Common photographs - asserting a south London presence on the interweb!
We've gone over 30 members and 100 photos in the first week, so I'm pretty pleased.
Poor 'ol Clapham Common is probably not as photogenic as Hampstead Heath - however, we do have a lot of events and activities going on which I hope people will post photos of in future. And in the meantime, the group has certainly picked up some absolutely stunning images - ones that make you think "Wow! That was taken here?!"
So, join up, take photos, post!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
From Russia with . . . ?
Boz first alerted us to the genius that is the M&S Christmas ad.
Now Londonist is campaigning for the divine Bassey to be the Chrstmas Number 1.
And in a desperate atempt to find a new angle on the story, The Grauniad has a rant about the evils of drugs. This is amusing enough to quote at some length:
"Still, perhaps we should acknowledge the drug reference and salute a perfect portrait of the mixed-up, shaken-and-stirred mores of Britain circa late 2006: a 69-year-old grandmother - dressed, say M&S, in a £150 "Magicwear" hold-it-all-in dress - doing a Bond-themed gig in Superman's house and singing about being on E. Fingerfood and sensibly priced partywear all round!"
Works for me.
Meanwhile, over at You Tube (4 stars, 59,213 views, 31 comments and 136 times favourited as I write) the big debate seems to be why didn't Pink get the gig? Some people have no poety in their souls.
BUT - a sudden thought chills me - as we are all aware, real-life Russian ex-spies are suddenly all over our news broadcasts, especially ones dying in James Bondian bizarreness. Is M&S going to suffer blow back from the polonium 210 issue?
While I deplore the callous murder of innocent Russian ex-spies living in our midst, I have to say the British police are giving good investigation. While Vladimir vehemently denies all responsibility, PC Plod keeps on the trail of that polonium 210 and its 130 day half-life. Now, didn't I tell you this whole operation was FUBAR? How brilliant is it that the poison actually leaves traces everywhere it's been, and it appears to have come from Russia? No doubt Vladimir will soon feel the long arm of Britsh law fingering his collar. Or at least testing it for polonium.
Although, I'm also finding it just a tad convenient from the PR angle that one of BA's planes was held at Moscow airport. Almost as if physically making a point. Come on, given airline turnaround times surely all three could have been caught in London?
[update] - from Wipipedia: "A cube of pure polonium-210 about the size of a written period (0.35 mm wide, or 400 micrograms) would still be 3400 times the lethal dose."
Oh - and also:
Deadly Polonium-210 only $69!
Now Londonist is campaigning for the divine Bassey to be the Chrstmas Number 1.
And in a desperate atempt to find a new angle on the story, The Grauniad has a rant about the evils of drugs. This is amusing enough to quote at some length:
"Still, perhaps we should acknowledge the drug reference and salute a perfect portrait of the mixed-up, shaken-and-stirred mores of Britain circa late 2006: a 69-year-old grandmother - dressed, say M&S, in a £150 "Magicwear" hold-it-all-in dress - doing a Bond-themed gig in Superman's house and singing about being on E. Fingerfood and sensibly priced partywear all round!"
Works for me.
Meanwhile, over at You Tube (4 stars, 59,213 views, 31 comments and 136 times favourited as I write) the big debate seems to be why didn't Pink get the gig? Some people have no poety in their souls.
BUT - a sudden thought chills me - as we are all aware, real-life Russian ex-spies are suddenly all over our news broadcasts, especially ones dying in James Bondian bizarreness. Is M&S going to suffer blow back from the polonium 210 issue?
While I deplore the callous murder of innocent Russian ex-spies living in our midst, I have to say the British police are giving good investigation. While Vladimir vehemently denies all responsibility, PC Plod keeps on the trail of that polonium 210 and its 130 day half-life. Now, didn't I tell you this whole operation was FUBAR? How brilliant is it that the poison actually leaves traces everywhere it's been, and it appears to have come from Russia? No doubt Vladimir will soon feel the long arm of Britsh law fingering his collar. Or at least testing it for polonium.
Although, I'm also finding it just a tad convenient from the PR angle that one of BA's planes was held at Moscow airport. Almost as if physically making a point. Come on, given airline turnaround times surely all three could have been caught in London?
[update] - from Wipipedia: "A cube of pure polonium-210 about the size of a written period (0.35 mm wide, or 400 micrograms) would still be 3400 times the lethal dose."
Oh - and also:
Deadly Polonium-210 only $69!
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Ta Dah - Marie Antoinette
Late reviews - but what the hell -
Marie Antoinette by Sofia Coppola is more enjoyable than is reasonable for such a self-indulgent film; the cinematography and soundtrack, as well as Ms Dunst, are ravishing.
The movie it reminded me of most is Bertolucci's The Last Emperor - both films convincingly depict the effects on the captives of their gilded cages, and both are somewhat tableau-esque in construction. Bertolucci's story is aided by the extreme stylistic changes operating in his history - Imperial China to Art Deco to Mao. Alas, although Sofia does track the development of fashion at Versailles in the period from the stiff and formal panniered dresses of Marie's arrival in France, through the towering wig phase, and onwards to the deceptively simple 'natural' yet equally ruinously expensive flowing muslin gowns of the pre-revolutionary years, this transition is I fear too subtle for a modern audience to comprehend and certainly not enough to carry the plot.
Copolla's triumph is her exquisite, intimate perceptions of a life enmeshed in public royal ritual. I think her choice of near-contemporary music enhances this dimension.
Of course, if she wanted to be truly contemporary, she would have chosen tracks off Scissor Sisters latest CD, Ta-Dah. I think the most flattering thing I can say about it is that I bought it; I must have been the only person in the UK disappointed by their debut. Although some tracks were promising, and Jake Shears's voice was amazing, for me nothing reached the heights of their cover of Comfortably Numb.
I bought Ta-Dah after listening the thing on the band's Myspace page. It's really rather superb - a massive jump up from no.1 and also shows signs their musical development is just beginning. The first track, I don't feel like dancin' has justifiably been hailed as a dance classic, but I think Ooh is even better - in fact everything on the second half is just marvellous.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
polonium 210
The unfortunate Mr Litvenenko has now passed away, after a dramatic deathbed accusation of Putin. The British authorities have announced radioactive polonium 210 was found in his urine, at Itsu and the bar of the Mayfair Millennium Hotel - the places he visited on the 1st November.
At this point, poor 'ol Itsu is probably so over. Legend has it there's no such thing as bad publicity, but hell, radioactivity in a fast food joint? I don't think so. Also please note this radioactivity has lasted in the place for a full 3 weeks.
I have to say the media are being very blase about this. The Guardian leader comment seems to imply this is absolutely nomal and only to be expected for spies. Harsh.
There appears to be a backlash against the idea that the Russians did it. The rationale is that the Russians would have been far more discreet and clever than to murder someone in such a painfully public manner. Well, this could be a Russian FUBAR project. FUBAR projects can happen to anyone - ask Tony and W.
We have to expect that we are not being told everything the authorities know, and also that this clearly impacts on Anglo-Russian dilpomatic relations, so the whole thing is going to be managed. I think it is very interesting the Russian ambassador was called into the foreign office for what was described as a "routine meeting" yesterday.
Anyway, a gruesome murder mystery in central London. Can't decide whether it's more like an Agatha Christie or an Ian Fleming novel.
At this point, poor 'ol Itsu is probably so over. Legend has it there's no such thing as bad publicity, but hell, radioactivity in a fast food joint? I don't think so. Also please note this radioactivity has lasted in the place for a full 3 weeks.
I have to say the media are being very blase about this. The Guardian leader comment seems to imply this is absolutely nomal and only to be expected for spies. Harsh.
There appears to be a backlash against the idea that the Russians did it. The rationale is that the Russians would have been far more discreet and clever than to murder someone in such a painfully public manner. Well, this could be a Russian FUBAR project. FUBAR projects can happen to anyone - ask Tony and W.
We have to expect that we are not being told everything the authorities know, and also that this clearly impacts on Anglo-Russian dilpomatic relations, so the whole thing is going to be managed. I think it is very interesting the Russian ambassador was called into the foreign office for what was described as a "routine meeting" yesterday.
Anyway, a gruesome murder mystery in central London. Can't decide whether it's more like an Agatha Christie or an Ian Fleming novel.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Sushi - Yikes!
I'm going to have to rethink my attachment to sushi.
I can distinctly remember my wonderment when at the age of around 5 I first heard the Japanese ate raw fish. At that stage in my development, the formidable Catholic nuns at my nursery school had extreme difficulty getting me to eat cooked fish on Fridays.
However, time and taste marches on and certainly by the time of the Japan festival in the early 90s I was keen to try the stuff. And rapidly became hooked.
But now - oops. Firstly, a knowledgeable friend absolutely hated my choice of Japanese restaurant (a quite highly rated one, according to all the reviewers, here in South London).
And secondly, my most favourite snack joint is now the notorious scene of an (allegedly) KGB poisoning. Alexander Litvinenko, a Russian dissident, exile and strong critic of Putin's goverment fell ill - of thallium poisoning - after lunch at Itsu in Picadilly.
I love the sushi at Itsu. Yes, its mass-market but the sushi is prepared on the premises and they don't overchill the rice. It's actually really nice and I love going there after a cultural session at the Royal Academy. I liked it so much I wrote a fan letter to Julian Metcalfe, its owner. (He sent a very sweet reply.)
But this is the sort of incident a restaurant can't live down. Sort of like Boris Becker bonking in a broom cupboad at Nobu, only much much much more negative. Much. It's one thing if the food makes you so frisky you can't keep zipped up. Quite another if you are poisoned. Yikes!
I can distinctly remember my wonderment when at the age of around 5 I first heard the Japanese ate raw fish. At that stage in my development, the formidable Catholic nuns at my nursery school had extreme difficulty getting me to eat cooked fish on Fridays.
However, time and taste marches on and certainly by the time of the Japan festival in the early 90s I was keen to try the stuff. And rapidly became hooked.
But now - oops. Firstly, a knowledgeable friend absolutely hated my choice of Japanese restaurant (a quite highly rated one, according to all the reviewers, here in South London).
And secondly, my most favourite snack joint is now the notorious scene of an (allegedly) KGB poisoning. Alexander Litvinenko, a Russian dissident, exile and strong critic of Putin's goverment fell ill - of thallium poisoning - after lunch at Itsu in Picadilly.
I love the sushi at Itsu. Yes, its mass-market but the sushi is prepared on the premises and they don't overchill the rice. It's actually really nice and I love going there after a cultural session at the Royal Academy. I liked it so much I wrote a fan letter to Julian Metcalfe, its owner. (He sent a very sweet reply.)
But this is the sort of incident a restaurant can't live down. Sort of like Boris Becker bonking in a broom cupboad at Nobu, only much much much more negative. Much. It's one thing if the food makes you so frisky you can't keep zipped up. Quite another if you are poisoned. Yikes!
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