When life gives you sour plums...

There comes a time when even the most ardent wordsmith struggles with something to say. I seem to have hit that wall a while back, and although I am not an ardent wordsmith, I am certainly loquacious. So, I wonder why I am finding it so difficult to find a suitable topic to post about? 

The move to shores anew certainly sparks a number of new stories, but most of these have been wildly frustrating in navigating new systems, mindsets, and routines that while understood and taken for normal by locals, frankly baffles the hell out of me. I certainly do not want to relive the Saga of the Wood Effect Bookshelves, or the Tale of The Too Short Shoe Rack. 

Instead, the past few months have been spent away from the new place we call home. That has given us a new sense of appreciation of what we now see as an abode that we have put our mark to, and somewhere we can find solace in after a long day. It also helps that we have stocked up on duty free. 

Iceland is a place of outstanding beauty. Naturally, I got more excited with these amazing works of public art instead of the scenery. (Not pictured, the 2 headed goat)

This summer saw us gallivanting through parts of the UK, Iceland, and Canada. For the most part, it was a break to see new places, experience new things, and generally, kicking back and having a laugh. For me, mainly, it was a time to spend with friends afar, and that after 2 weeks and a bit of being together all the time, and not being totally sick of each other, bodes well for the friendship we talked about for years to come.

 This is Thkipper, Barbie's Galician cousin. This picture is also totally unrelated to the post, apart from the fact that it seemed a good idea that the Spanish themed dinner we planned suddenly went via Mexico.

My friend Hillary has written a much more succinct post on the incredible light that completely discombobulated us. Imagine after almost constant light, stepping off a plane to find yourself in the darkness that is called night. That struck a sense of awe in us, arriving in Halifax, after 4 hours on the flight where I mainly got overexcited with the meal plans we had ahead. In the end, time itself limited our voracious appetites, and while I went a bit mad at the markets and shops, the true thing of wonder was when both Hillary and I stepped into Canadian Tyre. 10 minutes later and our arms laden with various things, we suddenly remembered what we had actually gone in for.

There were lobsters to be dismembered and grilled. There were punnets of berries to be turned into jam, sorbet, pies, tarts and other things. There was meat to be charred on the barbeque. We did all that, and more. 

I may be digressing, but, I have come to the thing I wanted to write about, which mainly, is the experimentation with the various foods that we had. I bought some golden plums, which, when cooked, turned out to be even more tart than sucking on a lemon. A whole upside down tart had been baked, which was essentially inedible. Even after having sprinkled lots of sugar over it and whipped back in the oven to caramelise. So, instead of sending the whole thing to waste, we improvised and turned it into a golden plum and cardamom ice cream instead.

Here is the recipe:

Ingredients
1 inedibly sour Golden Plum Tart
1 handful of more sour Golden Plums
1 measure of sugar
1 portion of prepared custard for ice cream, infused with cardamom instead of cinnamon

Method

• Scrape off plums from the tart, put in pan with some uncooked plums (stones removed), add an amount of sugar to mask any tartness.
• Cut up the soggy tart base into small pieces, set aside.
• Prepare the ice cream base. Chill, and churn, adding the plum mess and soggy tart base.
• Eat with gusto. It really is more delicious that I have made it sound.

Archie Andrews, Well Done You!

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 A couple of days ago, while I was in Singapore, I was walking through a mall as one invariably finds oneself doing, generally to take respite from the heat and humidity, but in this case it was to dodge the torrential downpour that had finally succumbed after two days of threatening clouds and a heavy atmosphere.  Where was I? Oh yes, now that we have the weather profile over with, let me continue: In this mall, there was a small pop up concession selling English language books, and upon closer inspection, they had a good selection of children’s books of which I used to love. These included modern day reprints of classic Ladybird books, Enid Blyton stories as well as the requisite, abridged versions of the Grimm Brothers and Hans Christian Anderson timeless tales.

Amongst these as well, I spotted a pile of Archie comic books, and got quite excited. These used to be a favourite of mine when I was younger, and I remember amassing a small collection, with some great plots, and lots of random information that has served me well in life. 2 things, of which I can remember, are: 1. How to spell ‘Mississippi’, and 2. Mink oil is a waterproof agent for boots. (yes, I do use mink oil on my shoes).

Anyway, I decided to pick up a couple of these comics to relive my youth. Upon returning to the hotel, I started to read one, and I was quite surprised how the comic has changed since I last read it. Overall, the characters are generally the same. Archie and Jughead remain best friends, as well as Betty and Veronica.  Archie is still caught in the perpetual love triangle between Betty and Veronica, and Reggie is still the self-centred narcissist. However, Miss Haggly, the history teacher at school seems to have retired, but there is no history replacement. There is now a driving instructor, and a host of other teaching staff that reflect the more modern educational options that seem to be in schools nowadays.

The characters themselves have also undergone some subtle transformations. Jughead still eats like a horse, but now, is also an accomplished chef, with supposedly a large repertoire of food related trivia. Archie is still a klutz, but where he used to only show interest in girls and his delicate image in the beat up jalopy (which is now a 90s banger, replacing the old classic which Mr Lodge should have probably bought over as a collector’s item), he also exhibits ambitions through daydreaming. Betty is still the nice girl-next-door, but somehow has also morphed into a feisty young lady, taking Veronica on in disagreements where she used to be a doormat. Even Veronica has changed for the better, exhibiting flashes of humanity and kindness.

Perhaps what is most noticeable are the references to the global financial crisis, and how the fictional community is affected by it, mirroring real life. Gone are the bake sales to raise money for school dances, instead the Riverdale kids are putting their heads together and scheming to drive locals to small businesses. The community is brought together to save a pet shelter affected by the cut in funding arising from decisions taken to combat the budget deficit. The small puns, gags and wordplay all revolve around political buzzwords on the economy that we are fed on a daily basis through the media. It’s only a matter of time before the cartoonists fit in a gag about falling off the fiscal cliff.

It is heartening to see that the symbols of my childhood that saw me into my teenage years are going strong. It is even more comforting to know that while there are references to popular culture, it generally eschews the media focused obsession with fame, talentless personalities, and the habit of excess touted by celebrity that is generally so vulgar, even more so in this time of austerity. That the teenagers of Riverdale are delivering the message of civic duty, honesty and friendship, it seems that Archie and the gang will carry on being a decent moral compass for kids in years to come.

Well done to the guys at Archie Comics. I look forward to introducing them to my kids if they continue in this vein.

12 Things in 2012

2012 was an incredible year for OH and I, but there were certain things that made the year unforgettable. Here is a list of 12 things that made 2012 for me, in chronological order:

1. The best cup of tea I had was at the Hotel Adlon Kempinski in Berlin. It was January, and OH was mulling over some work crisis the weekend we were in Berlin, which in addition to the rain, put an additional dampener on our spirits. After plodding about in the rain, we finally emerged at the Brandenberg Gate and it being a Sunday, most places were shut. The only place open in the vincinity was the Hotel Adlon, so, in order to get out of the cold and wet weather that was coming at us horizontally by that point, we ducked in and headed to the atrium for a cup of tea. As one would expect of a nice hotel situated by a monument, the menu was extensive and geared towards the tourists that were desperate to escape the crowds or inclement weather; I picked an Assam blend, which normally isn't (no pun intended) my cup of tea. OH also ordered tea, and continued to mull over the impending work related doom. Just a few minutes after the tea had been served, a team of suited men with headpieces, discreetly filing past and occupying strategic locations within the atrium. Shortly after, one of the tables next to us vacated, and was quickly filled by another group of people, and Christine Lagarde who had just taken up the directorship of the IMF, sat amongst them. I nudged OH to spot the celebrity, he looked up, and after a few seconds his face began to relax with a hint of a smile about the corners of his lips. Soon after, we finished our tea and headed off, with OH turning to me and saying, "I'm not the only one having a bad week."

2. The worst meal I had was in Prague in February. I had taken OH there for his birthday, and we spend the weekend soaking up the Bohemian spirit, and soaking up a fair few distilled spirits in the process. We visited the castle, some lovely Art Deco buildings, saw a pig slaughter in a square near the Kafka monument, and strolled along the river, illuminated by the historic Charles Bridge, juxtaposed with a procession of illuminated fibreglass penguins, silently facing out towards the Vltava. On the last day, we went to a beer hall to get some lunch before heading onto the airport. The beer was outstanding, but the food we ordered was dreadful. OH ordered dumplings which were stuffed with smoked ham and cabbage; I had a roast pork knuckle. Both turned up in the colour spectrum between Brown Slop and Dustbin, both were inedible. I don't think I have ever pushed food away, but, as they say, there's a first time for everything.

3. The enigma of the year took place in March. OH was doing a presentation and had some meetings in NYC, and so I joined him for a long weekend and to hang out with one of my dearest friends. The first evening having arrived, we went for champagne and oysters, and then went back to the hotel via a couple of speakeasy's and a Korean fried chicken place, Bonchon (those of you who are long term readers know that I have a penchant for fried chicken, if only because the concept has been banned in Switzerland along with KFC back in 1984). The next evening, we had dinner with a large group of friends and apparently, drank the bar dry of Knob Creek bourbon with our non stop orders of Manhattan's, which were extremely delicious. At some point during the evening, OH and I left, and here's where the enigma lies: it is unclear if I actually ended up sneaking out of the hotel after OH had gone to sleep, to have another go at some fried chicken. The memory was so vivid, but nothing actually is an indication whether I actually had any: in my drunk lucidity, I may have paid in cash, threw away all tell tale signs (receipts, napkins) and gargled with lots of mouthwash. When you drink the bar dry of bourbon, I expect that is the resulting blackout one would encounter.

4. The most un-interesting museum we drove past was the so called Museum of Wallpaper, which is on the highway out of Basel on the way to Strasbourg. This sparked a discussion on the most 'interesting' museums, amongst which included the Museum of Corkscrews. We were on our way to Champagne where were spent the Easter weekend with some friends. We drove through a number of French towns on the way, and some of them were memorable for all the wrong reasons. Troyes had interesting wooden buildings, all looking a bit weary and having subsided into the lopsided manner of the Gaelic shrug. Even the dogs seemed to have given up urinating on the street corners and instead decided to halfheartedly pee in the middle of the street before decided to carry on, leaving haphazard trails of canine urine along the pavements like the Warhol copper paintings. I was also subjected to the delights [sic] of the andouillette, which, while sounding bad, was actually a lot worse.

5. The never ending queue to get into the Vatican was something that I'd never forget. We queued for 2 days, but never quite got into the Holy See. I have seen crowds in my life, but never the ones like I saw to get into the Vatican museums, and St Peter's Basilica. OH had taken me to Rome for my birthday, and we stayed right next to the Pantheon, which is a beautiful building, however, the crowds again were terrifying, along with the tourist touts and pedlars selling light up figurines of Mary on keychains, colour-by-number postcards of the Sistine Chapel frescoes, and all kinds of other wonderfully kitsch delights. We went out for dinner one evening in a very lovely art deco hotel, which turned out to be a comedy of errors. Think Fawlty Towers, with only Manuel running the whole show.

6. We picked too much fruit, to which I am allergic. June came and saw the arrival of my eldest sister and her boyfriend, en route back to Canada. They stayed for a fortnight, and before they went Inter-railing across France and other parts, we took a trip out and ended up fruit picking. Between the four of us, we ended up with just under 10 kilos of cherries, both of the black and sour variety. The previous year saw an increase in the limitation of the number of fruits I could eat, due to an increased hypersensitivity in hayfever allergies, and unfortunately stone fruit numbered amongst this, as well as bananas, apples, pears and similar varieties. The downside to this activity was that my sister and her boyfriend were leaving the next day for over a week, OH was away, and I was due to travel a day later. I ended up heading home straight after work the next day, and with the help from a bottle of wine and a fruit pitter, removed the stones out of hundreds of thousands of cherries. We still have frozen cherries, cherry shrub, cherry liquor, cherry vodka, cherry bourbon, cherry jam and other cherry related items remaining. This is not to be confused with the year we bought 60 kilos of apples to get the free 10 kilo bag. That, is another story.

7. The most exhilarating hike we have ever done took place in Grindelwald. I was lured on the hike by a friend, with the promise of a 'Gourmet Evening' in a place called Glecksteinhütte. OH and I made a number of rookie mistakes, despite having some very good advice in regards to equipment, which we did have. The first was setting off too late in the day, which ensured by the time we were edging our way across a rock face, the sun was high in the sky and beating down on us mercilessly. The second mistake was not properly anticipating the incline of the climb, which rose 1.5km over a 9km hike. The final mistake was not understanding the weather patterns, and while it was 32°c in the sun, once we'd crossed the rock face, the final climb faced a glacier, with winds of up to 80km whipping through the valley down towards us. As we sighed and sobbed pathetically, a loud clap, and the heavens opened on us. That spurred us on towards the hut in triple time, and as we arrived, the group we'd set out to meet cheered us, and presented us with much needed alcoholic sustenance. In the end, the dinner turned out to be quite fun, and we met a group of great people who until today, remain great friends. The next few days however, proved to be painful in getting around as our legs had completely seized up due to the over exertion. 


8. Conversely from #2, the best meal I had of the year was at Fäviken, in Jarpen, Sweden. OH and I had arranged a trip away to Scandinavia, and went up towards the border with Norway in what is normally a ski region, and went for a long hike before working up an appetite. We set off with much aplomb, and promptly got lost trying to find the beginning of the trail. Eventually, we found the map that marked the path, hidden behind some bushes, and started on our way. Soon, the path became quite challenging and waterlogged sections meant that we had to manouvre our way carefully. Imagine the scene from LOTR where Frodo is crossing the marshes with Gollum, and you have an idea of the conditions we were faced with. Eventually, we completed the circuit, and upon arriving back at the start of the route, realised that we had taken the cross country skiing route, which meant that we'd been struggling through the ditches that were usually full of snow that made it easy to navigate. Once we got back to the car, we headed over to the Fäviken farmhouse we were staying in, and the barn which we were going to be dining in. The experience was incredible: from the decor, to the weather, it was all so rustic and perfect. The food was a well thought out sequence, each with a story behind it, and the maître d' and his team looked after us wonderfully. The highlight was when a large marrow bone which had been roasting was brought table side, sawn in half and its contents scooped out and mixed into a tartare of beef heart and wild herbs. After the meal, we were invited to have a nightcap back in the ground floor of the barn, where the chef Magnus Nilsson came to chat to the diners. What I enjoyed most from the conversation was his sense of adventure, and openness in trying different techniques, and that sometimes he would come up with an idea and a technique on the day and the diners would be the first to try that particular method, or even composition. The duck egg liquor I was sipping reminded me of Christmas, and the breakfast we were served the next morning was another experience in itself. Back in Stockholm, we encountered Pride Week, and listened to ABBA songs in Swedish, which was a very odd experience.

9. Jumping from 15 feet into a river and floating back home certainly ranks amongst one of the more daredevil things I've done in recent years. With my waterproof floating bag all packed up, and a pair of flip-flops attached to the strap, I took the leap from a railed platform, spurred on by the lifeguard in charge of the open air swimming baths after an exchange of pleasantries (and her figuring out we were foreign; I swear it must be something to do with population control). As I hit the water, my heart almost leapt out of my throat, and as I recovered from the shock of the cold water, I began to notice I was flowing down the river very fast in the path towards a bridge support. Once that had been dodged, I managed to get to a bathing area to blow up the floatation mat I had, which turned out to have already sustained a few punctures, straight from the box. Then, there was the fork in the river where I learnt that fast flowing water runs shallow, and sustained a few scratches all over. Finally, the river entered some deeper territory, and I was able to relax a bit more, getting out at the appropriate moment before the waters flushed into a weir over a hydroelectric dam.

10. Sunshine in Scotland, in October. After almost 8 years together, OH and I took the leap and got married. Well, as close to marriage as the laws would allow anyway. The event took place in Scotland on an estate, with a 15th century tower annexe, and a four poster bed which Mary, Queen of Scots was purported to have slept in, and there is a wax cast of her death mask by the Great Hall. There was also a wonderful ebony four poster with mother-of-pearl inlay which the Queen Mother used to sleep in, but that bed has since been put on display only, after an errant couple split red wine on the sheets at one event. In the run up to the day itself, the weather was decidedly Scottish, with gray skies, horizontal rain/drizzle, and everything that we'd brought along with us had a decidedly damp feel about them. Come the day itself, all our guests turned up from all four corners of the globe, for which we remain entirely grateful. The sun made an appearance, the grounds were dry, and the céilidh was decidedly chaotic and haphazard. Much fun was had by all, and as we sipped the house whisky by the fire alongside our friends, we basked in the warmth and satisfaction that much fun was had by all.

11. Two of the most breathtaking natural water features are the Iguassu Falls, that border Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay, and Perito Moreno in Patagonia. I'd been to the former over 12 years ago with some clients, and revisiting it again was truly spectacular. We stayed over on the Brazilian side, with stunning views of the falls from the window, if you tilted your head at an odd angle, and stood on tiptoe, facing the direction of the setting sun. The wildlife was also quite incredible, with multi-coloured birds squawking incessantly, and raccoon related types trying to steal eggs from the nests of the weaver birds. When we got to Patagonia, the Perito Moreno glacier was truly breathtaking, with the noise of the shifting glacier and the deep blue veins of the ice rendering us totally speechless, as everyone else around us. What we were most taken aback by, however, was the sheer size of the Andes. Living with a view of the Alps is nothing compared to a view of the Andes from the hotel terrace: it just seemed to go on and on, looming up ahead. We also had a truly unforgettable steak, by virtue of its sheer size that turned up on the table. The rib was a long as my arm, and it was straight out of a Flintstones cartoon. We knew we'd been suckered when the tables around us started to snigger, so we put on a brave face, and ate as much of the slab of cow in front of us as we could. We did not touch steak for almost another 2 months after that.

12. The month I consumed a million calories was definitely in December. Half of that was from alcohol. The other half? Well, lets put it down to Christmas on both counts, including a snack time burger an hour and a half before attacking a huge (undercooked) steak. Foie gras, game pie, mutton ham and caviar also featured somewhere in between. Now, I am trying to stick to a detox and diet plan, to rid some of the toxins and padding that seems to have found its way around my midriff.

So, those were some of the highlights of 2012. 2013 is going to see some major changes, and that includes blogging more frequently with observations of life in a new country, as we prepare our transition over to sunnier climes in a few months.

In the meantime, Happy New Year to all, and may your year ahead be as good as you have been.

Flies, Pomegranates and Peaks

This is where OH and I have just been:



I can't even begin to describe how amazing this place is. It is really something that has to be experienced personally. The ancient city itself is vast, and all hewn out of rock which is an absolute work of engineering genius. the surrounding cliffs and walls of the hills and mountains lend to an illusion that everything was covered in carvings, and then you catch sight of a worn out Corinthian pedestal, and some cornicing that fades into another worn piece of rock, then you're not quite sure again.

If you encounter gung-ho Yanks telling you where to go, don't follow their advice if you're not sure or not one for hair-raising adventures. OH and I thought it would be a good idea to go off the beaten track, and found ourselves scaling a set of stairs up to the top of a 12th century fortress, and the last time the stairs were used probably dated from then as well. After getting to the top and enjoying the sublime views, we panicked when all the probable paths down led to sheer drops off the cliff faces. Finally, after taking a Panoramic Pee (tm), we screwed on our adventurers heads and followed the ghost of other footprints, and finally found the way down via some sensible stairs.

This is another wonderful experience:



Stepping into the Dead Sea, the density forces your feet up from beneath you and all you can do is float on your front, or on your back. Lie back and enjoy the sensation of not having to exert yourself, and float with wild abandon. Mind the drift though, you may inadvertantly end up drifting over to Israel, and cause a diplomtic incident. As OH pointed out, if you get shot, the salinity would cause the wound to hurt like fuck.

The constant evaporation of water from the surface creates a wonderful haze that dampens sound all around you, as well as filters out harmful UVB rays. This means you tan without burning, which is fantastic. The mud from the seabed which you can slather on and washed off in the sea makes your skin as smooth as a baby's bottom.

The low season allows for a completely deserted experience, as no one else is around. We had 30 staff waiting on us at the Dead Sea resort. The one drawback are the multitudes of flies that are around during the day, but mysteriously disappear before sundown, so dining al fresco in the evening is thoroughly pleasant.

And for pomegranates? They are delicious with most things, especially baba ganoush and as a late night snack.

*wink*

The week that was

Highlights included:

- finishing one tower of a set of Lego

- drinking 7 steins at the local beerfest

- eating tom kha gai three days in a row

- white Alba truffles from Italy, bought by my assistant, and black truffles in cognac, bought in the local market in Geneva

- a trip over the boarder into France to stock up on wine and cheese, and rendering the car a stink wagon

- dinner with great friends with more truffles, and foie gras

- upcoming trip to London to see other friends and enjoy the fireworks

- writing up my Christmas list (explanation to follow soon)

Things I have discovered and are probably not related...

- Riding a tandem is easy if someone up front does all the work

- Salmon can leap really high, but when they hit obstacles it redefines the adjective 'stunned mullet'

- Vancouverites love their weed

- Salmon jerky is delicious

- Trails marked on maps are often 10 times shorter than you'd expect

- Giant redwoods are, well, giant

- Skants, however hideous, serve an occasional purpose

- Margaret Cho is on Dancing With The Stars, which would be an incentive to watch that programme

- When life gives you gin, have a party

- I have pretty fucking amazing friends

Next destination, eh?

Taking a break. Flying to Vancouver, but going via London and meeting OH at the check in counter. Apart from the small suitcase, I'm also carting a large bag full of stuff for my sisters that includes my body weight in chocolate, cheese and salami, eh?

Very much looking forward to the break, the food, and being 9 hours away timezone-wise which automatically means I won't be able to contribute much, work wise. But, I'm happy with that, eh?

In the meantime, you'll have to put up with the linguistic twitch, eh? Until I'm back via Brussels, then it would be all normal again, une fois?

Bi-wine curious

After almost a year of radio silence I am back once again. Somehow I
managed to lose focus on priorities in life and let myself be
overwhelmed by the career.

This, in itself, shouldn't have been the case given the constant promotion of the elusive work-life balance. However, in my defense, I was doing a 9 man job and at the end of the day was just too exhausted to even turn on the TV, let alone the laptop to type in a blog entry. Things have now improved, and instead of a 9-man job, I'm on a 4-man job and managing 5 others.

Managing people is somewhat akin to having internal arguments with your subconscious. Sometimes things well up and you want to shout, but you can't, so you take a step back and try to reason with your not-conscious. However, unlike with your subconscious, the worst case scenario you think of then proceeds to act itself out in front of your very eyes.

A recent trip to New York unearthed some absolute gems of overheard conversation, which really had to be heard in person to be believed:

Boy1: I really really like wine

Boy2: yeah, I really like a full bodied red.

Boy3: (hesitatingly) I like wine too, but if you really REALLY like wine, can you like both red and white?

Later...

Boy 2: whites are good, but I only like really dry whites. Like a good chardonnay. Not a riesling though, its not dry enough.

Later, after more fuckery in a similar vein, OH and I left following a conversation involving the new word 'superiocity'.

More to come, and by god its good to be back...

Up and In (As Opposed To Down And Out) in Zurich

Started a new job last week here in Zurich and already I'm in love with the city.

28 May

I've had some false starts here, no apartment, getting an apartment, and in the interim, staying at a hotel. One would have thought Swiss efficiency would make the hotel perfect, but on the one day I decide to order room service, the kitchen goes into meltdown.

So, I jump on the tram to travel 2 stops to the Thai take-away I've had my eye on for a while. When I get there its shut.

Hmm...

So I go round the corner and see fried chicken on the menu of this take away. I walk in and freeze: its a West Indian joint. While I weigh up my options, I'm dragged into the shop where I place my order with 2 voluptous ladies behind the counter. Then I order a beer and sit down.

While I wait for my chips (not plaintain) and chicken (from a plantation), I survey the crowd and weigh up my options. If my wrist gets too limp, I'm dead meat.

The mother of the proprietress comes up to me and starts chatting in a foreign tongue. She is a small lady, and I have no idea what she's saying but nod politely. She hugs me. I smell lavender, soap, and stale tobacco. A shout from behind the counter in French. 'Leave the Chink alone. He's here for fried chicken, leave him alone'. I smile wanly and turn to my mobile phone.

A shout. My order is ready. I get my take-away and leave.

I forget to ask for chilli.

I'm typing this as I'm sat by my single bed. One more night and next week I'll have an apartment.

I open a take away box and tentatively pick at a chip. The texture is potato. The taste is faint banana. Plaintain.

OH is away in Uganda.

I cry.

I cry because I thought I had it all together: great job, brilliant pay.

Now I feel so alone.

All over again.

How to Surprise Someone

For OH's birthday every year I try to make it a memorable one for him. Like the first year we were together, I was learning French at university, so as a gift with benefits, I booked us on a trip to Paris. The plan was to wake up in the morning, and tell him that we were going on an adventure, turn up at Waterloo, collect the suitcase I'd packed the night before from left luggage, and whisk him off to the City of Lights. A few snags to this plan though, a week before we were meant to leave, OH called me in a panic to ask if I'd seen his passport as he needed it for a visa application to Kenya. I answered in the affirmative, and he spent the rest of the time thinking what it was doing in my flat (back when we lived seperately), and so he figured it out before it was a great surprise. However, the fact that I'd arranged a surprise birthday party for him the night before completely escaped him and that turned out to be good fun.

This year, I decided on another trip, and back in October I told him to take a few days off for his birthday as I wanted to take him to Destination X. By the time I got round to booking the tickets, the price for Destination X has increased twofold, so I booked Destination Y instead. Destination Y was supposed to be a secret, but I thought at one point OH had found out about Destination Y, but it turned out he was thinking of Destination N, and it was inadvertently let out the bag that it was Destination Y we were heading to.

However, OH is now so focussed on Destination Y, I'm thinking that perhaps I should have booked Destination N, or Destination Z instead. Oh well, its all booked now. Tune in next week to find out where we went...

(OH found the link to this blog eventually, and I'm not about to ruin the surprise further...)