Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum!!! Lots of Rum!

My favourite rum - Angostura 1919
Photo credit: Lime.tt

Yesterday we went to the Day 2 of the three-day Angostura Rum Festival. Anyone who knows me knows I love festivals, and when I was in London, if I could make it, I would be at some festival, including their Rum Festival, which featured rums from all over the world. So when I saw this, I was already there. Hell...I mean, the word "rum" does it for me, so I was there.

The festival was aimed at showcasing our local rums and the amazing things one can do with them, as well as allow true rum lovers to understand the history of our rum and how rums are made, and our world-famous Angostura bitters. In case you did not know, Angostura bitters are as awesomely Trini as I am. Write it down. There were tours of the distillery, rum lectures, demonstrations with rum in both cooking and bartending, rum samples and Master Challenges for chefs and mixologists.

The heat drove me from the outside to the cooler activities on the inside, like the rum lecture, which surprisingly was not as boring as I thought it would be...ALTHOUGH...I did close my eyes for a couple minutes. That I blame on the free cocktails, the heat and a very taxing and tiring 5-day work week. But the presenter was engaging and very knowledgeable about his rum.

Daiquiri...mmmm
Photo credit: Lime.tt

The festival was okay. It was not quite what I expected after all the amazing reviews, but it was a good day out anyway and for just TT$50. There are very few things you can do for $50 so kudos!

It was extremely hot though and I wilted immediately until we got indoors, into areas like the rum shoppe and the cooking demonstrations, which I did not know you needed to buy chits for, but anyway...

Note to organisers: The entertainment was awful awful awful. Wow. We were not the only ones who thought so either, but then they were brought on so late that perhaps it was anticipated that people would be too drunk to notice and too spirit-happy to really care.

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Christmas Party Pooper

So I survived the Christmas parties - and without having to resort to hitting the bottle.

The first one was the staff children's party - an event that in past jobs I managed to avoid like The Black Death but fate caught up with me and I was mandated to be there. I could not even take my nephew which would have at least made it relevant somehow. But in any event, it was painless. The children were not as annoying as I thought they might have been. The magician, however, was a hot mess and could not even sway the kids much less a bitter Trininista, and the snow man was scary even for me, so I was not surprised when one little girl bawled her lungs out when he appeared, out of sheer terror. No lie though - the snow man was beastly! Poor kids.

I also managed to survive the adults' party which in past jobs I had usually been excited about. It was the one time of year I could really shine my swag and go full glam, but this year, I really could not be bothered. I took the decision to recycle an old dress and took it to be ironed at the dry cleaner's the day before. Then later that next evening, when I realised that unforeseen circumstances made wearing this particular dress impossible, I literally threw on a dress I grabbed out of the hamper, without even ironing it - a dress I have worn quite a few times, but noone cared. I didn't. I was glad I had not spent money on a new dress cause it would have been a waste. The party was alright but my heart was just not in the whole thing. Between hormonal rage, exhaustion, and a bitter, biting flu bug, I was not the smurfiest butterfly on the Christmas social scene.

The major highlight of the evening was probably the one guy who had to be wheeled out of the party cause he took "free drinks" to a whole new level. I kid you not. Wheeled out. In a wheelchair. Too drunk to walk. Too drunk to even be conscious. How embarrassing. If that were my man, I would let him go for being such a daft knob.

There is still the small matter of team lunch/gift exchange. God. I should really publicise my memo about not being a Christmassy type but it might be too late, or too soon depending on how you look at it. In any event, in the immediate present, I am now battling a really awful flu which has been kicking my ass now for days but which I intend to beat before the weekend! Hope everyone is well.

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Translating Christmas into Summer

A glass of chilled sorrel, and in the absence of Crix,
I also had some poppyseed crackers
with extra mature cheddar

When one thinks of summer, one usually thinks of sunshine and sunshiney type drinks like daiquiris and mojitos. Not rain and cappuccinos. Nevertheless, I was not to be derailed in my taste of summer plans today, despite the downpour here in London.

I had brought some dried sorrel with me back in September, to ensure I had a little piece of Trinidad with me at Christmas time. Sorrel is traditionally our Christmas drink but because I was ill for the most of the holidays and a bit lazy, I never prepared the sorrel, instead having loads of Rexona and orange juice. Today though, as I whip up a pelau, and despite the summer thus far being a soggy mess here in London, I was in the mood for a tropical, summery burst of joy.

It's really very easy to make once you have the main ingredient - the sepals of the sorrel flower. Usually you can buy these fresh, but since I was away from home, I bought some dried sorrel. You also need spices, typically cinnamon and cloves, and sugar to taste.  My mother told me to steep the sorrel but I did boil it a bit, cause I am impatient. The smell was heavenly and after it had all cooled and was sweetened, the taste was even more heavenly. If you have Angostura Bitters, dash some of that in it too. And add some stronger spirits, like rum, if you really want to spice up the ting, which I did! It was a piece of Trinidad in soggy London.

My pack of dried sorrel; the dried sorrel in the pot with the cinnamon and cloves; boil boil boil sorrel;
the beautiful scarlet coloured concoction, ready to be sweetened and "spirited"

I took my sorrel and my yummy poppyseed crackers to the couch, where I proceeded to flip through the hundreds of channels, looking for one show that would hold my attention for at least an hour, while my pelau did its thing on a low heat. Instead, I got Dynasty, Murder, She Wrote, Law and Order episodes with Chris Noth (ancient!!), Diagnosis Murder (really??), Dawson's Creek - wow, that one really took me back. I mean, can you believe paying money every month to see shows as old as the road? Is it any wonder why, trapped indoors because of the wind and rains, and at the mercy of corporate London,  I am incredibly bored?

Still, I had my summery sorrel! And after a long day of grocery shopping, kitchen prep, cooking, with a terrible shoulder pain, having slipped in the bathroom this morning, I needed a sorrel break!

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The Week That Was

London's National Gallery

Well, I guess I can give a recap of the week that has been here in London, in my world.

With it being a bank holiday weekend here last weekend, there were a lot of things happening in London - as usual. Though I am still officially a student, without formal classes to attend, every weekend is like a bank holiday weekend for me, but I digress. I decided beforehand that I would go to the Busspepper Eighth Anniversary Party on Sunday, where the week began. Usually a good lime, this one was disastrous. The venue was in my opinion a poor choice for such an event and there were just way too many people crammed into a small space, making it too hot, too stifling. I did not enjoy it as much as I had hoped, but then I was also distracted by news from home.

When I opened my eyes on Monday afternoon, there was a full-on barbecue in the backyard, with people and everything. Too tired and annoyed to participate, I did some research for my dissertation and spent the rest of the evening, night and next morning (no sleep inserted here) doing letters/emails to prospective respondents and making appointments. I managed to get 4 quick confirmations but the water seems to have run dry and I am following up on the laggards today. I just want to reiterate that this dissertation is the nightmare of my life!

On Wednesday I managed to scrape myself off the bed and go to campus for a workshop on...you guessed it...dissertation research. Fun.

Thursday was much more pleasant as I decided to enjoy the brilliant sunshine and venture into parts unknown, namely Hammersmith. Beautiful area. Very green and vibrant, yet not claustrophobic. There was a lovely market on as well and even better, a burrito giveaway at the new location of Tortilla. I had never heard of the chain but I saw about 50 or so people in a queue and I asked what was going on. Well, needless to say - student +no money + free lunch = me standing in line, talking to a lovely Aussie lady about vacations, while waiting to get to the counter to order my unexpected lunch.

I  had some school-related tasks to complete (snore) but once they were done, I then ventured back to Trafalgar Square, where I sat in the sun with tourists, had my free burrito and gaped for a while before spending the next few hours in National Gallery - fave place ever! I took a walk back down Waterloo Bridge where I was so sorry I had left my camera at home, cause the view off the bridge on a clear sunny day is breath-taking. When it's sunny in London, it's beautiful - just beautiful.

Beckenham Park,
Photo credit: Wells Consultants

On Friday, I journeyed to Beckenham this time - another area I had never been to and beautiful beautiful beautiful. Very posh, but very green and woody. My "date" gave me a great director's cut version of the Beckenham tour before we settled in for drinks and dinner. It was such a nice evening that I lost track of time and ended up having to face my worst nightmare - the dreaded night bus - to get home.

Saturday afternoon, I met up with my girlfriend, Nic, for lunch and drinks (and gaping) at Las Iguanas, followed by more drinks at Be@1 - where as usual, the oddballs of London seem to turn up. Again, no camera, but I shared a drink with Woody Woodpecker, Bugs Bunny, a female cow, a dragon, a fairy, a pink bride and a ghoul. I kid you not. Drinking in London is unlike anything I have ever experienced. lol.
Sunday, I was exhausted really but still managed to go to Blackheath for lunch at Locale, where I had the best scallops and a wonderful main course of gnocchi with king prawns. The weather by now was back to normal, i.e. rainy, but the company was great and the food was better - not to mention the 3 glasses of pinot grigio. At the table next to us was a party which included two Guyanese women, so of course I had to strike up a conversation cause that is how I am - farse and chatty.

Rafael Nadal ended a great week with some scintillating tennis, which I watched over another glass of wine, and here I am - back with the research and stress. It's really dreary today and I am so tired (I could barely type this as you can tell) so I think the rest of today will be spent in bed with the disso...hopefully with the disso.

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New Year Celebrations in London

When I opened my eyes at minutes to 2 this afternoon, I pulled the curtain to see what 2011 looked like in the day. It looked just like 2010 did 24 hours before - grey and bleak. My stomach was also bleak...rather empty and I just inhaled carbs and copious amounts of orange juice.

And I did say I woke up at minutes to 2 this afternoon, after ringing in the new year with friends at a bar/club in London. We almost ended up ringing the new year in the queue, until one dude started complaining to the owner - a rather unfortunate looking character who thought he was God's gift with his hair plugs and his shiny suit - with support from yours truly, and when the countdown began, I was indoors, in the queue at the bar. lol. But it was a great evening with friends, and lots of memorable highlights such as:

- Friend #1 (shall remain nameless) pissing in the sink at McDonald's because...well...he just had to go. I may never use a public bathroom again, and I scarcely do it now as it is
- Friend #1's friends (none of whom were quite sober) picking up a stray at McDonald's and by stray, I don't mean Sparkie. Just some random girl, named Miranda, who suddenly was part of our group
- Getting lost, asking Londoners for directions and them too drunk to be of any use - dude told me the street we were looking for was in Soho when the map clearly showed the street was right there somewhere.
- Miranda trying to pick fights with random black girls in the queue. I said silently to myself, Who on earth is this girl, and why is she being a nuisance? I will not be getting my hair pulled in a fight for some stranger
- Some crackhead looking person, clearly high on something, trying to pick a fight with me but as I told her, when she can be as stunning and lucid as I was, then try again. I think I might have been the only sober person in London last night!
- Miranda finally leaving, but via ambulance, because she was so wasted they had to call the NHS for her, after she apparently almost brought up her entire digestive system on the pavement

I hope wherever Miranda is - she is okay but cannot say I was sorry to see her leave. What a nutter.

New Year's Eve in London was quite an experience. I mean, I know the Brits on a good day love their tipple but Jesus...I was at Euston station at 9.30 and people were already wasted, falling over, screaming, and just being plain annoying. By the time I was walking to my bus stop this morning, there were bodies all over the pavement, friends propping up friends on benches...crazy. My New Year's Eve parties back home were always on the "bourgie" end of the spectrum so this...lol...was different.

But as we mention bus, it's been a while since I put up one of these but this was seriously called for...

Mayor Johnson, I sat at Bus Stop D at St George's Circus for maybe 110 minutes waiting for a bus that was supposed to come every 30 mins. I can now tell you every bus that services SE London - the N1, the 63, 453 etc, because I saw them at least 4 times each - thought I saw the N155 maybe about 6 times. But nowhere to be seen was my bus. Your TFL people on the street were very helpful, and after 100 minutes called in to see where oh where was my bus because I sat at the bus stop, not drunk, not falling over, not being a menace - but very quietly, albeit angrily, nursing what was a cold in remission, hoping it would not come back a second time.

Mr Bus Driver, forgive me for giving you a look laced with acid and not returning your "Happy New Year" when you finally got there - but you surely could understand my vexation at having to start my new year with an almost 2 hour wait in the dropping temperatures for a bus and then having to sit and listen to some drunk female cuss her mother on the phone in a most vile and alarming fashion. Oh London...

Other than that, and the fact that I must now open a textbook on the first day of the year, 2011 promises to be awesome.

Oh, I also got my delivery yesterday. I love sparkly stuff!

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