Foodie Friday: Life is all about Chocolate, Chips and Cake.

I met a friend for dinner last week and she reached into her bag before eating so she could check what she was allowed to eat. I asked the obvious questions, 'on a diet ?' 'Pregnant ?' Turns out she has IBS and has been advised to avoid certain foods. Now I am way ahead at this particular party as I had severe problems with food around ten years ago and it took the GP two years of testing to conclude I had stress related IBS. Frustrated by the medical advice to eat charcoal (for real !) I decided to have a food allergy test at a health store to see if there was anything I should be aware of.

Now I know I brought this on myself really and if you have seen a 'nutritionist' or a 'holistic therapist' or spoken to anyone from the world of food health you won't be surprised by what the nice man told me after a highly unscientific test undertaken in the shop. I was advised to avoid: bread, caffeine, chocolate, onions, peppers, cabbage, red wine and red meat. In fact the only cliche he managed to avoid was that he didn't tell me to stop eating dairy.

The world of 'healthy eating' seems to be all about exclusion. We are advised to cut out wheat, sugar, dairy and caffeine. It's supposed to 'detox' the body. Now I don't know about you, but I don't feel toxic when I have a cup of tea. I feel pretty horrific at the thought of custard, but that's a preference thing. I used to feel a bit poorly if I overdid it with the wheat and I haven't drunk real coffee in ten years, but give up sugar and tea ? Give me a break. What's the point of living a long and essentially crappy life ? No cake - no tea - no hot buttered toast ? I realise that some people have genuine allergies to foods and I get that, what I'm talking about here is the self-imposed misery of food exclusion either to lose weight or to stay well.

I tried being a vegan for a few months in my first year at University. It struck me that as I already didn't eat meat I could easily be a vegan if I skipped butter on chappatis, left out the raita with my food and denied myself my beloved boiled egg and soldiers. However, I did struggle with tiredness, terrible skin and I was the most miserable I've ever been. I can see why Morrissey is such a grump most of the time -- hence it was only a shortlived experiment.

If life is about anything surely it is about enjoyment and experiencing and trying new things ? If I didn't eat sugar I'd never have tasted the exquisite chocolates from Rococo in Chelsea (also available online).

If I gave up dairy I'd never enjoy Ben & Jerry's ice cream on a hot day in Clapham Common watching live music and seeing the sheer bliss on my son's face as he scoffs two cones at once.

If I stopped eating wheat I would deny myself the pleasure of eating toast or pancakes or chappatis or cake. Personally I don't see wheat as the enemy, I love it. Most cultures in the world have a wheat based diet be it pasta or chapattis or bread and who am I to fight against those odds ?

This week I've made peanut butter cookies (a bit crumbly, but taste great), chocolate chip cookies (the boy loves these) and honey cookies (wanted to use up a jar of honey, they smell incredible and taste very sweet, but the boys both devour these for breakfast !). The simplicity of these and the happiness they create in my home cannot be overstated. 

All of which is a very long-winded way of saying that I'm going on a bread-making course this weekend. It's with Daniel Stevens who wrote the River Cottage bread handbook and promises 'all the bread you can eat' as well as lunch and wine - sold !!! 

It's a very early birthday present from Hubbie and I'm ridiculously excited about it. I will take photos and tell you all about it next week. 

There is a light that never goes out

Weekends are always packed in our family with my zumba class, the boys going to rhymetime and football and all of us going swimming. Fitting in anything extra requires logistics that would make the MOD proud. We did, however, manage to find a space in the schedule to attend an open day for a school this weekend. My boy loved everything about it and yelled like a banshee when we moved him from one fun filled room to another as he realised that all of it was geared toward keeping him occupied.

A bit of tutoring with Daddy

As neither Hubbie nor I went to an independent school it was a whole new experience and refreshing to meet teachers who can spell, use grammar and don't dress like I did in my second year at university. I'm not sure why we received a free teddy bear and a big helium filled balloon to take away with us, but I think that is designed to distract from the sting of the fees they charge. I did find myself picturing my son in a school with small class sizes, a swimming pool onsite and an interactive whiteboard in every classroom - including the nursery ones. 

Of course the point of an open day is to show the school in the best possible light and to sell it to potential parents. The main concern I have is whether considering a fee paying school for our son is a sign that we have entirely lost touch with our idealistic notions and rewritten our own history. From being an activist about everything at university to waking up one day middle aged is a salutary lesson.

However, I do console myself that at least I recognise that I'm not a fearless upstart any more. Imagine living with the massive denial that the former frontman of the Smiths labours under. Morrissey has never been a bundle of laughs. Witness the cheerless titles the Queen is Dead, Girlfriend in a Coma and Meat is Murder, as opposed to Vicar in a Tutu and Shoplifters of the World Unite which I thought demonstrated how the Smiths were funny and their lyrics amusing, but now I'm not so sure.

Hand on glove and plant in back pocket

There was a time when Morrissey was the angry young man and poster child for sullen and disaffected youth with his precocious commentary on modern life and all it's failings. Now he's an older man he still deigns to make controversial pronouncements from his cosy ex-pat life in LA where he thinks his teenage rants are still relevant.

Out of loyalty we still listen to his rants, but he's less a national treasure and more a Victor Meldrew figure with a cooler following (my father-in-law thinks One Foot in the Grave is hilarious, but he has no idea who the Smiths were). People of my generation still think Mozzer is like a cool uncle who used to take us to festivals and is now vaguely embarrassing, but we're still loyal to him out of respect for what he once was to us. Anti-establishment and so very clever.

I'm not saying I'm going to get rid of my weird and wonderful music, or give my tour t shirts to charity as a sign that I've grown up. After all I've still got my original Doc Marten boots to show my son when he thinks he's the first teenager to be rebellious and/or misunderstood. 

What I am saying is that when it's his turn he's going to have to go some to find a style of music and a political viewpoint that we find completely disagreeable. If he wanders into the house with a long floppy fringe and a canvas bag with Nine inch Nails written on it in felt tip I will smile knowingly to myself - I just won't let on to him. 

Garbage Panda Rocks !!

As I type Hubbie is in the kitchen listening to the radio which usually veers only a few steps from Radio 4 to BBC London. It is currently on a station called Garbage Panda which has to be the best name for a music station - or indeed anything - that I have heard in a long time. My attention was drawn by the music being played which really caught my ear and apparently it's remit is rockabilly and an assortment of other sounds.

They're not the usual tunes we play at home (with Hubbie being a Fall fan and my adoration of Prince we don't often play music together anyway), but music is an enormous part of our lives. Hubbie plays guitar and I've been known to dabble in drums, saxaphone and tenor recorder over the years. We've been singing to our son since before he was born so he enjoys music - most little ones do as far as I can tell - and he does love to bop around.

Music is so intrinsic to my life that I cannot imagine anyone not being interested in it or having a passion for certain songs or tunes. I met a man once who told me he really wasn't into music and I was floored. I had assumed (wrongly) that being from Ireland he'd have grown up surrounded by music and therefore would love it, but no he had no favourite music or interest in it at all.

My parents playing Indian music and my Mum singing when she thought no one was listening still form the most potent of my childhood memories. There are songs from films that are evocative of a particular time and place and the haunting soundtrack of Pakeeza makes me shudder as I recall my Dad telling me the beautiful lead actress died during the filming so a lot of the shots are of her body double.

When I hear the Wannadies You and Me Song I think of my wedding day and our first dance. It wasn't a great choice to dance to wearing a sari, but still it made us happy and no one was really paying any attention to us mucking around up on the makeshift stage anyway.

The opening bars of the Smiths How Soon is Now remind me of Digbeth Institute in Birmingham. Ok, bear with me on this. When I was at uni me and Neil went to see Jesus Jones and they were supported by Soho - twins whose only hit song (Hippychick) began with those very opening bars. They sort of disappeared pretty soon after that (as did Jesus Jones to be honest).

It's also where we saw Killing Joke - possibly my favourite band of all time. Their song Love Like Blood actually makes me tingle when I hear it. It's a powerful and resounding anthem from a highly political band. I was so pleased to get a ticket to see them a few years ago so when the gig was rescheduled for two weeks after my son was born I was gutted to miss seeing them again.

I could go on about politics and music (not in a Red Wedge sense you understand) but I will just mention the La's There She Goes which was played in the Student Union at my Uni the day Margaret Thatcher resigned. Even now I associate that song with a happy, happy day and the sense of humour of whoever the DJ was that night.

So as you can see music is not only the food of love, it's the food of life. Sometimes a bit rich and overwhelming, sometimes basic and just enough. Always emotive and always essential.

The cat's been sick and Morrissey is on the telly...

So I decided to start with a momentous first blog and was waxing lyrical about all sorts of nonsense when the cat decided to walk over me to sniff the baby monitor and walked back. In the process he deleted all the writing I'd done. Convinced this was him being a critic I took it personally and told him off. Imagine how guilty I felt when minutes later he was throwing up in the next room !!

It may have been a reaction to my telling him off, but it was more likely to be a result of next door having a barbecue this evening. Neo has been caught on camera in the past licking the cold grills of a barbecue and whenever we eat outdoors he is sick (and mysteriously the last of the sausages go missing !) He has also tried veggie sausages before now and that wasn't a success either. Poor lad had no idea what was going on when he bit into those !

Every year we record a lot of the Glastonbury coverage on the BBC and this year is no exception. The usual course of events is we delete the previous year's recordings which we still haven't watched only to replace them with the new ones. This year we have decided to break with tradition and actually watch them first and have just been watching Morrissey. From the song that signifies when we first met (I want the one I can't have) to the one that was played during our wedding (This Charming Man) the Smiths repertoire is pretty significant to me and hubbie. It makes me realise that the bands that I once thought were so radical and anti-establishment are now middle aged (or in most cases retirement age) and firmly part of the establishment.

I find it hard to let go of things: books, DVDs, CDs, shoes, clothes, memories, expectations. It's a cliche that women love shoes, but in my case it's true. Last year we attended 6 weddings and I was pregnant for all but one of them. As a result I was unable to wear the beautiful shoes I'd chosen specifically to match with outfits and kept for that special and unknown future occasion. When the year of weddings was upon us I was carrying my son and a fair amount else in my frock so pretty shoes were not practical. Ironically I don't really care what I wear on my feet these days, but still have the boxes of magic in case I have a special day to wear them to.

Expectations are far more difficult to let go of. The year before I fell pregnant I decided I was fed up with being unhappy in my body and made an effort to lose weight. Following a sensible eating plan and exercising I became the slimmest I've been as an adult. It was very satisfying to be slim and to feel 'normal' for once. Then I found out that the thing we'd been told wouldn't happen had happened and I was expecting a baby. I was so delighted at the news that I didn't consider how this would affect my body in the longer term as I just thought I'd lose the weight again. What I hadn't appreciated was how difficult it would be to just go back to what I did before. I've heard the term 'getting my body back' and it always sounded a bit shallow, but I think I understand what that is about now. For so long my body has served a purpose and my responsibility has been to maintain it for the wellbeing of another person - from carrying him and supporting him to feeding him.  I barely had time to enjoy being slim and I'm now struggling with the idea that it just won't happen again. It's not the most important thing in life, but it is a difficult thing to let go of.

Right, having managed a blog free of feline interference I'm going to cut and run. The baby is kicking the side of his cot in his sleep (which is pretty much what he did for 9 months when I was his cot !!).

Hasta luego !