tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4669707101081018352012-02-01T02:57:11.823-08:00Something, everything and nothingMelissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.comBlogger2431100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-89863107491956856682012-02-01T02:55:00.000-08:002012-02-01T02:57:11.831-08:00

“Every breath you take, every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you”. “You’d better run for your life, little girl; I’d rather see you dead than with another man”. “Whatever you do, I’ll be two steps behind you”. Eek! Is this a transcript from the diary of a deranged psychopath? Well yes and no; we are in fact plundering lyrics from the Great Love Songs playlist in the name of

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-63706364098323286762011-11-26T03:58:00.000-08:002011-11-26T04:05:59.160-08:00

Freelancers, teleworkers and remote employees; part-time contracts, multiple employers and, of course, the global financial climate: just some of the long list of factors that have conspired to create a very different image for the World of Work (or lack thereof) in general. But amidst the flurry of changes, one tradition has endured against all odds: the Christmas office party, it seems, refuses

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-17023964501425685182011-11-05T01:11:00.000-07:002011-11-05T01:13:59.313-07:00

Summer 1979: John Wayne dies, McDonalds sell their first Happy Meal in the UK and a song about rabbits dying of myxamotoses dominates the airwaves. Meanwhile, an exhilaratingly gaudy, tastefully vulgar, brazenly flamboyant role model was about to change my life forever.To a geeky, plump kid completely devoid of any of the qualities that offer membership to a network of peer support, Adam Ant

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-51772586490768087322011-06-17T02:34:00.000-07:002011-06-17T02:38:47.769-07:00

At last, the nation is calming down again in the aftermath of Willy Wales’ marriage to Kate Middleclass. So, did you have a street party - or was it a festival? Because these days, if it ain’t a festival, it ain’t nothing to celebrate at all. Come summertime, nightmares about leaving the house without a pair of flowery wellies, a packet of Wet Wipes and a fair-trade cotton tote bag bearing the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-55644680964448427432011-03-30T10:44:00.000-07:002011-03-30T10:47:08.413-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-31232685964760580872011-02-18T01:42:00.000-08:002011-02-18T01:45:06.176-08:00

As soon as the Bath Literature Festival publishes its programme I snap up tickets for events until I’ve drained my overdraft facility dry. This year I’ll once again be all over the whole shebang, from the Love-in at the Bath Poetry Cafe on opening day to Rumpole of the Bailey with Timothy West in the final hours. I’ll be clinging on to every word uttered, snapping up signed editions and

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-35660427386276882202011-02-10T04:24:00.000-08:002011-02-10T04:28:42.398-08:00

Love is in the air as “the most romantic date of the year” takes centre-stage spotlight halfway through February. But while many of us busy ourselves booking intimate tables-for-two, hassling Interflora and urging Cupid’s to programme his GMS properly, many more have an entirely different interpretation on the meaning of content coupledom...and the verses that put their feelings into words ain’t

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-41533834989964299782011-01-27T23:20:00.000-08:002011-01-27T23:23:57.215-08:00

If, as Twelfth Night head honcho Orsino mused, music be the food of love, why have we yet to ditch the idea of ‘a romantic meal for two’ instead of simply letting the band play on instead? If we’re totally, utterly honest about it, eating isn’t the ultimate sexy, aphrodisiacal pastime we’ve all been force-fed to believe it is. Yes, the women in the Cadbury’s Flake/Galaxy/Baileys adverts turn

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-69922918800769382912011-01-05T05:20:00.000-08:002011-01-05T05:26:21.961-08:00

It’s January, and suddenly it feels as though the whole world has gone back to work at once. The weather in the UK - just a few short weeks ago, sharp, sparkly and properly winterish - has gone back to business as usual too: grey, dreary and bone-chillingly cold, some days it feels as though even the daylight can’t be bothered to do its thing. Some people have embarked on diets, others have given

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-21503458946329546642010-11-10T03:20:00.000-08:002010-11-10T03:21:12.921-08:00

Feminist pundits have called it “an outrage against womankind” and warned of an increase in incidents of violence against women, campaign groups have accused the bosses of totally disregarding equal opportunities policies and Mumsnet are urging their members to boycott Marks and Spencer, condemning the company for “selling women and girls down the river in order to make a fast buck”. Toot toot!

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-39606347799798142672010-11-03T09:07:00.000-07:002010-11-04T06:53:54.929-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-61551668911848737552010-09-20T10:33:00.000-07:002010-10-06T23:26:50.635-07:00

News just in: Venue have finally sorted a proper website out! You'll find me mostly lounging around the food and drink pages...In other news:I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no more satisfying pastime than making a cake. Mary Berry’s Victoria sandwich, Nigel Slater’s coffee and walnut cake and, of late, Dan Lepard’s saffron, lemon curd and clotted cream creation are perennial favourites,

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-74586703083372368942010-09-15T07:51:00.000-07:002010-09-15T07:56:35.885-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-91035414790198739972010-09-09T10:23:00.000-07:002010-09-09T10:29:28.190-07:00

His fringe flops into his eyes, he has a permanently perplexed look on his face and he sleeps at random times, often in front of the TV or at the dinner table. He’s fascinated by shiny gadgets and his baggy, crumpled trousers come dangerously close to sliding all the way down to his chubby little knees every time he crosses the room on his skateboard - if, that is, he doesn’t trip on his

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-47123294885600010792010-07-28T03:49:00.000-07:002010-07-28T03:52:03.251-07:00

According to Immigration Minister Damian Green, "telling people what they can and can't wear is a rather un-British thing to do.” Okay, the statement was made in response to questions about whether the UK was set to copy the law recently established in France and ban the wearing of a burka in public places. But putting that singularly contentious issue aside, isn’t telling people what to wear A

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-3625318317264200222010-06-30T02:30:00.000-07:002010-06-30T02:33:55.845-07:00

Lurking amongst the tongue-tied first daters, confused tourists, fussy eaters, expense-account executives, quarrelling couples and discomfited conference delegates that go towards making up the bulk of any restaurant’s clientele, a recent arrival to the throng is set to fascinate people watchers - in themselves another discrete social subset - everywhere. The Food Blogger is the food world’s

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-1800043685503545912010-06-02T07:55:00.000-07:002010-06-02T08:00:21.220-07:00

Exactly what do people honestly, really like about watching a bunch of overpaid drama queens (albeit, I’m sure, highly skilled drama queens) doing exactly the same thing week in, week out? I’m not down on anybody who watches - or plays - football; I just honestly can’t see the attraction. Is a clear, concise explanation detailing what the attraction is really too much to ask for? Is it an

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-65249453479186108182010-05-26T23:21:00.001-07:002010-05-26T23:25:10.268-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-27719052641409088532010-05-08T02:26:00.000-07:002010-05-08T02:30:16.509-07:00

A fab friend of mine called Gerry Potter-Poet recently blogged about his experiences at The Everyman Youth Theatre. Those bygone halcyon days were, he recalls, a “genesis of empowerment; a template for the world”. Gerry’s thoughts and recollections inspired me to step back in time too. Thank you so much for the memories, Gerry. Thank you for being ‘us’.(PLEASE NOTE: I really wanted to link this

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-92068709713477476072010-04-29T00:22:00.001-07:002010-04-30T08:27:20.849-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-56324130128146004862010-03-30T03:59:00.000-07:002010-03-30T04:08:02.387-07:00

Leeks, oysters and rhubarb; purple sprouting broccoli, lamb and British asparagus: such are the flavours that herald the arrival of spring - if you can’t make a celebratory feast out of such a glorious shopping list, you have no rite to call yourself a foodie. But don’t allow the brightest seasonal superstars to distract you from one of Britain’s most overlooked treasures, growing freely (

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-70703815809691895112010-03-06T04:07:00.000-08:002010-03-06T04:08:43.038-08:00

Never mind Michelin, the Good Pub and the Harden’s guides: if you really want to know which restaurants are hot and which should be closed down by the health authorities immediately, ask a restaurant owner.Now take what I’ve said and add a massive pinch of salt. If I took the bile spewed by one proprietor about another (usually the one next door/across the street/down the road) seriously, I’d

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-63536312009350133662010-02-17T00:51:00.000-08:002010-02-17T00:55:10.194-08:00

Cheap food: it’s a relative concept, isn’t it? One man’s bargain meal deal is another’s disaster, according to whether you live like a lottery winner or exist on extremely meagre subsistence rates. Most of us, however, are fortunate enough to be able to munch on a happy balance: we can splurge on fabulous food - usually cooked by someone else - when the occasion is upon us, but spend most of our

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-141958919606359392010-02-03T09:25:00.000-08:002010-02-03T09:28:34.413-08:00

Hands up how many people reading this are planning to ‘do something special’ this Valentine’s Day! But before you expose your pits, please check the following terms and conditions.Votes cast by those who responded to surveys recently circulated by Thorntons, Interflora or Ann Summers in a lame attempt to publicise how popular their chocolates/flowers/knickers are at this time of the year won’t be

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-47909608551726672752010-01-04T06:00:00.000-08:002010-01-04T06:10:07.132-08:00

Bread & Olives £3<!--[if gte mso 9]> Paul 12.00 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-GB X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-7388776320671854652010-01-02T01:10:00.000-08:002010-01-02T01:16:26.794-08:00

...go here: www.recreationground.blogspot.com: elegant, thoughtful, gently surreal - just like the man who created it.

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-27733455981736514302009-12-30T04:16:00.000-08:002009-12-30T04:24:15.432-08:00

Another decade over, a new one about to begin.'Normal' service will resume at the Animal Disco as soon as the last cork has been popped - and trust me when I tell you that I've got a lot of waffle to fill these electronic pages as soon as the holiday is over! But in the meantime, have a wonderful one, one and all. And if you're wondering the best way to celebrate, then take my advice (or rather,

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-22110869575753512009-12-23T03:20:00.000-08:002009-12-23T03:22:08.433-08:00

Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas without it! Have fun, Disco buddies! See you in 2010.

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-13278431401253195102009-12-16T12:43:00.000-08:002009-12-16T12:44:33.290-08:00

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-81339472344308239572009-11-25T04:37:00.000-08:002009-11-25T04:42:17.310-08:00

For the first (and, I hope, the only) time in my life, I’m actually grateful to Jan Moir and Nick Griffin. Heck, even the dominant chatter about the postal strike has offered a bit of relief. Still, it can’t be long before women are blamed not only for Steven Gateley’s untimely death, the BNP’s unwelcome coup and fractious communications between the Royal Mail and the CWU, but for all the world’s

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-41340411959195122232009-11-18T07:30:00.000-08:002009-11-18T07:35:03.699-08:00

I must have been around 12 years old when it happened for the first time. Kat - a family friend some 25 years older than me - was sitting at our kitchen table smoking a cigarette and drinking black coffee, her Ziggy Stardust hairdo all mussed up and traces of last night’s make up still evident around her eyes. She looked like the sort of person I’d seen in the backdrop of photos of Berlin-era

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-91376088770224901202009-10-14T10:31:00.000-07:002009-10-14T10:39:35.319-07:00

In my professional life, I’m always banging on about Bath’s seemingly limitless capacity for top notch eateries and celebrity chefs. So - being a bit of hippy'n’all - I try to balance the seemingly luxurious position of writing about my food for a living by doing my bit for folk who often struggle finding food they can eat in order to live. At home, meanwhile (and therefore supposedly off duty

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-30606438143625533402009-10-03T00:02:00.000-07:002009-10-03T00:05:53.092-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-30167158135280006602009-09-29T01:57:00.000-07:002009-09-29T02:07:30.266-07:00

It's a review of an album! And it's going in a proper book! And the book is going to be published this month! And I love Queen! And I love Freddie! And I'm not going to include my usual accompanying dog pic here because it would be disrespectful to all concerned...and anyway, if you read the review all the way through the end you get Freddie himself...and what could be a better prize than that???

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-31076077406639004882009-09-20T01:12:00.000-07:002009-09-20T01:14:29.017-07:00

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-92053934584065844362009-09-09T08:26:00.000-07:002009-09-09T08:28:27.305-07:00

As summer prepares to do its disappearing act for another year, it’s time to take stock and recall your fondest memories of the season. Decry and protest what I’m about to say all you want, but I’m willing to bet that, for any honest person over the age of around 30, it wasn’t camping at Glastonbury.There comes a time in every man and woman’s life when flat sandals and/or wellington boots play

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-68490343870073349842009-09-07T04:46:00.000-07:002009-09-07T05:00:25.357-07:00

I've just returned from a foodie trip to Dorset and have some serious over-sharing to do, mainly involving fabulous shenanigans at River Cottage HQ (followed by lunch at the original RC Canteen in Axminster), an overnight stay (and dinner) at the gorgeous Bridge House Hotel in Beaminster and supper at the Hix Oyster and Fish House in Lyme Regis. How was it for me? FabFabFab, as you can probably

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-65729528969875920202009-08-25T10:28:00.000-07:002009-08-25T10:31:41.771-07:00

For such a small city, Bath punches well above its weight in terms of an illustrious reputation for posh watering holes. And a recent survey by Condé Nast - the publishers behind many esteemed, international foodie/travel/style publications including Gourmet, Bon Appetite and the Epicurious website - has just confirmed the city’s appetite for eating out: apparently, there are more restaurants per

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-646576434366884762009-08-20T05:45:00.000-07:002009-08-20T05:49:45.958-07:00

It is a truth universally acknowledged that we Brits are obsessed with the weather. Never mind what political, global or domestic crisis is dominating the headlines; the worse the weather forecast at sign-off time, the better the outlook for stand-up comedians, daytime TV chat show hosts and queue conversations across the land. When the Met Office recently declared a volte face on their

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-31493154681473488392009-08-12T02:59:00.001-07:002009-08-12T03:04:29.323-07:00

I may be suffering from a bout of seasonally affected disorder (a holiday? Yeah, right), but watching Rick Stein’s latest foodie-travelogue (his ‘Far Eastern Odyssey’, BBC2, Wednesdays) has really given me a taste for...anything but safe, dull, uninspired British food.Rick Stein brings a real sense of joy, excitement and humour to all things food-related; he tucks into the world on a plate with

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-17467503425005029632009-08-03T01:02:00.000-07:002009-08-03T01:08:40.286-07:00

At the grand old age of forty-blah-blah, I am at last the proud owner of....cutlery. Now please don’t get me wrong, here; I haven’t been eating with my fingers for the past few decades (although it has to be said, there’s nowt wrong with that). But as far as my personal experience goes, cutlery drawers have comprised of a mix’n’match jumble of pronged, curved, dented and semi-blunt instruments

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-87950170147694614532009-07-30T04:41:00.000-07:002009-07-30T04:49:51.279-07:00

If the bedroom is boring and even the kitchen table has lost its allure, where next for mindless, impromptu - and, if you’re so inclined, anonymous - sex? Perhaps we can ‘out’ our urges...without leaving the house.Most of us know all we all need to know about internet dating, chat rooms and related online frolics, including ‘strategic life simulation computer communities’ - yup, that’s where I’m

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-63862351608286078492009-07-07T03:07:00.000-07:002009-07-07T03:09:50.362-07:00

Table manners tell you a lot about what someone is like in bed. If he/she doesn’t share, talks with his/her mouth full or whips out a calculator at bill time, end the date as soon as you come out of the restaurant. Despite what the ad men are desperate to have us believe, M&S ready meals are indeed just food and it’s unlikely that anybody who wants to be a ‘serious chef’ starts their career at

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-22445940862159360432009-06-17T03:23:00.001-07:002009-06-17T03:25:35.635-07:00

As our menus subtly evolve according to the ever-changing food trend tides, so do the attitudes of all who chow down at the trough. But I’ve recently spotted a very odd social trend indeed, in the form of a rather insulting leg of mutton all trussed up in the outfit of a pretty, seemingly innocent lamb. In recent months, my penchant for baking has done wonders for the Blease budget. Home-baked

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-37271083804694561872009-06-10T08:34:00.000-07:002009-06-10T08:40:02.326-07:00

I was hanging out in the upmarket version of my local municipal swimming pool (no kids, floating sticking plasters or suspicious yellow clouds passing by; the ubiquitous pervert fiddling with himself behind a potted palm instead of a ‘no petting’ sign) when the question dawned on me: what the hell am I doing with my life? Okay, the Big Existential Ask regularly wrestles my conscience into

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-45500732176421215282009-06-03T10:40:00.000-07:002009-06-03T11:12:12.662-07:00

Since we last met, I've had a birthday (and not one but TWO parties to celebrate) (well, a girl doesn't turn 103 every day!) and loads of visitors staying over (all whom stuffed their faces with piles of homemade blueberry muffins every morning then accused me of buying the from Sainsbury's - quelle horreur!). I've been to a totally fabulous garden party that lasted for around 18 hours, eaten in

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-6908916134332504852009-05-27T10:11:00.000-07:002009-05-27T10:17:05.668-07:00

“All the world’s a stage,” Jaques begins, before going on to define our roles, from puking infant through school-hater, on to woeful lover, hero and slipper’d pantaloon wearer before finally heading toward mere oblivion sans...frankly, if you don’t already know, you don’t want to (however, if you don’t but do, check out act two, scene seven of Shakespeare’s ‘As You Like It’ - the monologue

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-71185537568728186362009-05-13T07:05:00.000-07:002009-05-13T07:08:01.963-07:00

There’s something really wholesome, satisfying and creative about choosing to follow a meat-free diet. If I’m preaching to the converted, then forgive me for such an obvious statement. But halfway though a seven day experiment to coincide with Vegetarian Week, what I thought was already a fully-stoked obsession has been subject to an intense reinvigoration. I didn’t know how jaded my palate had

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-86232355741431485802009-05-11T03:51:00.001-07:002009-05-11T03:55:33.680-07:00

As I mentioned in a previous post, Mike and I recently went for a little wander around the canal one sunny Sunday evening - the Kennet and Avon, to be precise, at the point where it mingles with the city. Gosh, we’re so lucky to live in such a beautiful part of the world! Just a short walk away from the rather concrete carbuncle that is the Travelodge hotel (recently revamped, natch), one finds

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-36602459645062041022009-05-06T03:31:00.001-07:002009-05-06T03:33:15.700-07:00

According to a recent survey conducted by the Office for National Statistics, fewer British couples get married today than they did in 1895, and 1.66 million children are brought up either by unmarried couples or a single parent. Predictably, the Daily Telegraph published these statistics under the headline “The Death of the Traditional Family”. Inevitably, knees jerked wildly all over the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-41252987783919077462009-05-04T02:21:00.000-07:002009-05-04T02:26:18.176-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-43803223246306857582009-05-02T06:20:00.000-07:002009-05-02T06:47:04.261-07:00

Ah, Yankel Feather.I remember him from way back when I must have been around four years old, and he was a good friend of my mum and dad's, and he probably (I say probably because I'm not quite sure) was also an Everyman Bistro regular. He was the first naturally camp man I ever met; an elegant, stylishly flamboyant original thinker with a sharp tongue, a lively mind and a gentle, perceptive soul.

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-49543487437985446942009-05-01T04:46:00.001-07:002009-05-01T04:50:45.010-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-75767743551938663902009-04-29T06:02:00.000-07:002009-04-29T06:30:38.481-07:00

I seem to have gone down with a really weird virus (physical, nothing to do with computers) that's made my limbs go all heavy and only allows me to enjoy energy for two hours at a time, at which point I then have to swoon on the sofa or the bed like an over-corseted Victorian lady in need of her vapour-fix for another three hours while my energy levels top up again. As you can imagine, this is

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-64299495934675199422009-04-21T00:04:00.000-07:002009-04-21T00:08:13.538-07:00

Roast king scallops followed by a platter of langoustines, Goan curry and double tiramisu. “Oooh, someone’s been busy!” croon your satiated guests as you bask in the limelight of their awe-stricken compliments. “Yeah, you’ve been busy alright”, whispers the devil at your table. “You’ve just discovered why mum goes to Iceland”.Some choose M&S. Others head straight for Waitrose. It takes an arch

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-64472064383531926932009-04-16T00:25:00.000-07:002009-04-16T00:40:07.436-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-39380262994268030052009-04-12T07:18:00.000-07:002009-04-12T23:27:04.991-07:00

'That' lamb (see previous post) is in the oven and, on the shelf below, 'those' dauphinoise potatoes (ditto previous parentheses) are doing exactly what I wanted to do, namely slump their neatly-sliced selves (no thicker than a pound coin) into that rich, garlicky, creamy sauce. Okay, DP's do neither your waistline nor your heart any favours, but as a once-in-a-while, to hell with Nanny treat,

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-37762250904151646792009-04-10T05:40:00.001-07:002009-04-10T05:48:20.893-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-39436310618940439422009-04-07T04:51:00.000-07:002009-04-07T04:53:37.249-07:00

Having eaten at a similarly-pitched destination dining hotel nearby the evening before. Times’ food critic Giles Coren recently cancelled his reservation at the Bybrook Restaurant. “Countryside Michelin is countryside Michelin,” Giles wrote; “I just didn’t want all that flimflam two nights running”. Countryside Michelin? How very condescending (and, for a national critic, more than a little

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-83342868971726148862009-03-30T23:16:00.001-07:002009-03-30T23:19:20.663-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-87916612356505886422009-03-28T03:43:00.000-07:002009-03-28T03:55:10.246-07:00

I woke up today feeling healthier and calmer than I have any right to, given that I spent the whole of yesterday in bed with a hangover, only getting up when it was time to smarten up my act in readiness for another night on the town. If the Friday I so blithely wrote off was a tad ‘Withnail and I’ in character, the overall theme running through the two evenings that bookended it combined all the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-91677465742364222262009-03-26T03:28:00.000-07:002009-03-26T03:36:08.230-07:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-49637201354618693242009-03-12T07:44:00.001-07:002009-03-12T07:52:14.646-07:00

I went to see Hot Leg play in Oxford on Tuesday evening - and very good they were too. You can read Stephen’s review here and you might, like me, appreciate the part where he compares lead singer Justin Hawkins to Russell Brand, ‘the nation’s favourite ironic-Byronic dandy’. I wouldn’t have been able to resist putting the word ‘iconic’ in there too, which is perhaps why I don’t write reviews for

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-20263754929366283092009-03-08T05:53:00.000-07:002009-03-08T06:31:28.225-07:00

Much like the weather, my mood could go in any direction today. On one hand, I'm ridiculously contented: well over halfway though one of the most laborious jobs of the year (researching and compiling listings etc for Venue's annual food guide, 'Eating Out West'), and at about the same halfway house stage with the menu for today's late lunch (smoked mackerel pate on toast followed by roast pork

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-70534850201784363232009-03-04T09:32:00.000-08:002009-03-04T09:35:08.739-08:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-45743558063303814642009-02-24T03:39:00.001-08:002009-02-24T03:42:00.720-08:00

It’s Pancake Day, so happy birthday to my lovely German Shepherd dog Jazz, who now lives in the great dog paddock in the sky but is never, ever far from my thoughts (even though she travelled skywards over a decade ago). Later on (or to be precise, tomorrow – I’m too hungover to make a good batter today) I’m going to make Pepperpot Beef pancakes, as invented by my mum and dad when they owned the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-85875190714607038382009-02-18T04:10:00.000-08:002009-02-19T00:16:08.510-08:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-54387021901338802352009-02-18T03:26:00.000-08:002009-02-21T15:51:46.377-08:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-66165594602472338092009-02-16T04:07:00.001-08:002009-02-16T04:10:34.324-08:00

This past weekend, I have been mostly:• Churning out loads of suppers - including a proper shepherd’s pie, a spiffing boeuf bourguignon accompanied by dauphinoise potatoes that tasted almost illegally good and a massive Sunday roast - for various house guests. While I discovered that making breakfast, despite my best efforts, is not my forte (thank goodness for Kelloggs Optivita!), Mefella did

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-6455808382287127582009-02-11T06:40:00.000-08:002009-02-11T06:43:33.462-08:00

Hot on the heels of breasts, nails, noses, hair, skin colour, eyelashes and teeth, orgasms are the latest component of every woman’s essential kit that no longer has to be natural in order to be effective. A recent women’s magazine survey of their readers (average age: 16-24) concluded that 71% of them regularly fake orgasm. On the subject, one respondent (ultimate role model: Cheryl Cole) shared

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-83419526192583845802009-02-08T10:02:00.001-08:002009-02-08T10:05:05.719-08:00

MeFella bought a Freedom Food-certified, oven-ready chicken for the vastly reduced price of 97p in our local Co-op yesterday. It’s not massive, but it’s got plump breasts and firm, meaty legs (oh go on, make the obvious comparisons if you have to). So I’ve poured French Walnut Oil (if not, why not?) into the non-gap between breast skin and flesh, ground some salt and pepper all over it, stuffed a

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-54273457920928615392009-02-06T10:32:00.001-08:002009-02-06T10:33:50.469-08:00

If the plodding pace and po-faced sensibility of MasterChef - currently in the 31st semi-quarter final selection heats for the 2009 title - hasn’t yet grabbed your attention, the magic is unlikely to happen. Over on Channel 4, however, the infinitely more entertaining but surprisingly substantial snack that is ‘Come Dine With Me’ is quietly topping the food-related reality TV show charts. Unlike

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-11520893935516493692009-02-01T22:47:00.000-08:002009-02-01T22:49:42.878-08:00

The most entertaining diet book to be published in ... ooh, days, Michael Winner’s ‘Fat Pig Diet’ (JR Books, £12.99) is as curiously enthralling as the great man himself: largely satirical, but laden with huge dollops of atypical humble pie.Following a near-death experience in 2007 when he contracted the extremely rare Vibrio Vulnificus illness after eating a suspect oyster in Barbados, the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-75825950184703862702009-01-29T22:51:00.000-08:002009-01-29T22:54:04.183-08:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-60386701208689612872009-01-29T04:04:00.000-08:002009-01-29T05:29:46.844-08:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-30899352389322452582009-01-28T04:54:00.000-08:002009-01-28T04:58:29.246-08:00

One thinks that this feature makes very interesting reading...Have a wonderful Wednesday, y'all!

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-21019972659378008062009-01-26T03:18:00.001-08:002009-01-26T03:28:58.542-08:00

THE DICTIONARY DEFINITION: “Aphrodisiacs: various forms of stimulation thought to arouse sexual excitement, generally classified in two principal groups: (1) psycho-physiological (visual, tactile, olfactory, aural) and (2) internal (stemming from food, alcoholic, drugs, love potions, medical preparations)”.THE GUINEA PIGMale, 42Existing libido level: high - but can a quick shot of nature’s Viagra

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-4699253821652792132009-01-21T11:43:00.000-08:002009-01-21T11:46:52.382-08:00

I was brought up as a vegetarian. As a child, toast and honey was (and, to an extent, still is) the bedrock of my diet. On a semi-commune in Wales - so ‘semi’ that my family were pretty much the only permanent members - I more or less lived on homemade potato cakes, flapjacks, wholemeal bread, cheese and Ribena. When our taste of The Good Life ended with a move back to Liverpool, the food I most

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-55427957302153361252009-01-18T02:11:00.000-08:002009-01-18T02:23:45.766-08:00

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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-27590805169408704112009-01-10T08:43:00.000-08:002009-01-10T09:03:04.245-08:00

In 1982, I wanted to write songs like this one (see below). Heck, I wanted to be the inspiration for such songs - a tawdry, glamorous siren treading carelessly over the hearts and minds of young, insecure, arty boys on her way to 'better things'. But while I was never anything close to being one of those girls (too plump, too shy, too scared), Marc Almond totally epitomised the kind of boy I'm

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-19623666055101458402009-01-05T03:00:00.000-08:002009-01-05T03:04:18.879-08:00

My grandma had a selection of dishes in her repertoire that she used to refer to as the ‘Sit and Wait’ collection. Rather than being the kind of dishes designed to teach my sister and I good manners at the table, they were the kind of recipes that could be cooked up when she had the time to keep an eye on something that braised long and slow in the oven, then simply reheated later on when

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-26559520729206865082009-01-03T07:24:00.000-08:002009-01-03T07:43:43.136-08:00

As far as I'm concerned, the New Year proper - in terms of work, at least - hasn't started quite yet. So, apart from dipping my toe in the murky commissions water in as much as I spent some part of the last three days chasing a horse-drawn taxi around Bath city centre (and still, the driver's not available for interview yet!), I don't intend to go back to the commerce keyboard until tomorrow...

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-53270207003229248382009-01-01T23:37:00.000-08:002009-01-02T00:09:20.157-08:00

The turkey carcass is rotting in the fridge, the tree looks all forlorn and everybody is 16 stone heavier than they were this time last month: another year over, a new one just begun. But before we start looking forward and moving on, I'd like to commit the highlights (and otherwise) of Christmas/New Year 2008 to the Animal Disco archives. So, in no particular order, the winners are:Best

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-40110988948349056232008-12-31T01:26:00.001-08:002008-12-31T01:27:29.092-08:00

Oh come on - it was inevitable really, wasn't it? Have a wonderful one, everybody; see you in 2009 xxx

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-13205847772647981942008-12-30T02:01:00.000-08:002008-12-30T02:04:25.069-08:00

Today I 'officially' say goodbye to Doc (Marc Crewe) - a truly original (and extremely close) friend. To say that he'll be missed by many is an understatement. Doc - without meaning to be too X-Factor about it (he knows what I mean) - this one's for you:

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-79053652348571432292008-12-26T23:16:00.000-08:002008-12-26T23:23:28.165-08:00

Oooh, that was luvverly - the most traditional happy Christmas I've had in years. And now I'm about to set off for Liverpool to do it all again with family and friends up there - hoorah! While I'm away, please have fun unwrapping this (below); your comments, as always, would be most appreciated. And hey! Enjoy the last drags of 2008 (yup, every pun intended), woncha?Panto season is upon us.

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-88628672796665792692008-12-25T00:38:00.000-08:002008-12-25T00:39:52.352-08:00

...make the most of it!It's for one day only, folks!Have a wonderful onexxx

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-75282084594846018252008-12-23T23:30:00.000-08:002008-12-23T23:34:06.675-08:00

In fact, I wish everybody a very happy everything, for always. Have a great one, girls and boys! I'm off to steam the plum pudding and preen that partridge...

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-83371558638197576292008-12-22T01:00:00.000-08:002008-12-22T01:10:35.891-08:00

And so it came to pass that the family came to visit (which was wonderful) and Doc (Marc Crewe - Venue's Food and Drink editor) died in his sleep while they were here. Swings and roundabouts, eh? No, not really - I am of course being inappropriately flippant. By the time we set off for Luxembourg on Wednesday morning (at least, I think it was last Wednesday), I was seriously wondering how much

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-67887284694520036342008-12-16T22:24:00.002-08:002008-12-16T22:25:58.823-08:00

The Animal Disco has gone to Luxembourg until Sunday. Please come back when I do! And have fun while I'm away.xxx

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-65565458051042796022008-12-11T02:34:00.000-08:002008-12-11T02:37:33.014-08:00

I went out with the girls I don’t see very often last night (yes, real, actual women; not the other type of ‘girls’ that I’m prone to hanging out with) – and what a joy it was too! One of the gaggle couldn’t make it (and was duly sadly missed); the rest of us – well, we did what girls do best: gossiped, giggled, and generally looked gorgeous. When it came to home time, I went to get a cab at the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-45061176165726206072008-12-08T02:32:00.001-08:002008-12-08T02:37:51.894-08:00

Seeing as I can't run off and join the Foreign Legion (okay, I probably could if I really wanted to, but things ain't that bad), I thought I'd move things along here a bit - I've bored even myself with my whingeing about old news. Hope youze all had a good weekend, kids! Being a softie liberal who believes that ‘awareness’ can make a difference to an horrific situation (hence someone who

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-60650896350688683592008-12-05T02:20:00.000-08:002008-12-05T02:22:24.696-08:00

And so it came to pass that the week rolled along, as weeks tend to do. In the time that’s passed since my last, panicky post here, I’ve pretty much been permanently riding an emotional escalator. On the work front, I’ve considered giving up writing professionally (publicly?) completely, accepted three major national broadsheet feature commissions, sacked my agent, been sacked by my agent,

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-90404539824609440182008-11-29T23:22:00.000-08:002008-11-29T23:25:02.998-08:00

Yesterday Part 2:Gemini21 May-20 Jun'Keep calm and carry on' - the government's advice to the citizenry during the war - makes a good fit for a 'scope in which warrior Mars is keen to pick a scrap. Before you respond, make sure you're not outgunned. Practical affairs offer more promise, especially since, against all odds, your missing bingo number looks set to get called.Missing bingo number? I

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-58936311961818094982008-11-29T10:44:00.000-08:002008-11-29T11:03:29.108-08:00

I wasn't going to mention what happened today here until the emotional dust has settled.  But as this blog has already attracted scores of new visitors on the strength of it (I guess all they had to do was google my name), I feel I owe everybody some sort of explanation. But having spent a great deal of today not only talking about 'it' to my family but constantly dealing with ongoing, draining,

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-29054862977147218662008-11-23T02:39:00.000-08:002008-11-23T02:50:47.048-08:00

What have you been up to? I hear you ask. Actually, I don’t hear any such thing, but seeing as you’ve dropped by today, I guess you’re wondering. If I’m right, wonder no more: I’ve been working, but in the happiest, most eclectic of ways: updating Bath’s newest food guide, writing about Bath’s newest entertainment venue, eating at one of Bath’s newest restaurants. The shock of the new? Not

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-77169520547656680532008-11-11T23:53:00.000-08:002008-11-11T23:55:40.067-08:00

Cooking is easy. There’s no great skill involved in reading a recipe, buying the ingredients and following the dot-to-dot instructions that have been laid out for you by someone who’s done it a thousand times already - as long as you choose Delia Smith over Heston Blumenthal, anybody can be a Jamie Oliver. What’s not easy, though, is owning up to the real reason behind such an activity. I

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-33409841867505312272008-11-01T01:23:00.001-07:002008-11-01T01:26:50.175-07:00

As a result of extreme exploitation, many words and phrases in the gastronomic lexicon have turned into little more than tired, hackneyed clichés, to be used by PR officers only. Take gastropub, comfort food and even poor old delicious; so distorted is their meaning today that to include them on a menu or even in a restaurant review is lazy (and usually insincere). But to see a phrase that at

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-90424745035687391022008-10-28T03:02:00.000-07:002008-10-28T03:09:53.959-07:00

In most British cities, restaurateurs welcome a ‘celebrity chef’ to the fold with gusto, seeing their arrival as an endorsement that their turf is on the UK food map, viewing the competition as a challenge and welcoming the inevitable waiting list overspill to their already established businesses. But not in Bath. Despite being a long-term, public supporter of the city that I call home, I’ve

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466970710108101835.post-6607225054496018752008-10-26T01:34:00.000-07:002008-10-26T01:41:12.215-07:00

I love it when the clocks go back. Not only does the fact that man can actually adapt Mother Nature’s plans to suit ourselves (well, sorta) give me an almost childlike feeling of “we’re doing something naughty”, but somehow the ‘extra’ hour has an impact on the whole day, often continuing into Halloween week (when I was little, I thought long, dark nights were created for this date alone). By

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00874003372312580869noreply@blogger.com2