Kitchen Porn: Super Phallic Sausages and other Sexy Stuff

So it's a semi-wordless Tuesday night, and not quite Wordless Wednesday but I have loads of work to get through tomorrow and I am waiting for my 11am snack to come out of the oven before I start working again.

So decided to show you some kitchen stuff. I spend a fair deal of time in the kitchen, cause one needs to eat to live. In this previous post, I mentioned my bargain Saturday night at Sainsbury's where I snagged bargain sausages and the contentious 25p bread.

Taste the Difference with my bargain sausages! lol.

I usually put these bad boys in the oven to cook, but I like sealing them with some EVOO first. It took me months before I bought sausages in the UK cause as you can see, they have a more than normal phallic look about them that does not engender a healthy appetite. lol. Am I lying? Don't they look like the other thing in that post? They look more sexual than the typical sausage I think! Or maybe I just have a dirty mind!

My yummy, sexy pork sausages being sealed in the pan

Then we have the contentious, and now infamous 25p bread. They were reduced twice, cause when I went in earlier they were actually 39p and after dinner, they were down to 25p.

Perfectly good bargain bread! Not much you can get for 25p in this place

Then this morning, I decided to make a coconut bake, leaving the last roll for my 11pm student life snack. My dough, comprising of self raising flour, butter, salt and coconut milk, looked pretty damn sexy.

Perfect looking dough

I then rolled it out into a rectangle like shape using a sports bottle since this house has no proper cooking utensils like...oh...a rolling pin. lol. Rectangle like...

Not too bad. It looks rectangular, doesn't it?

Then with the last of the sausages, I had breakfast.

The sausages look much better this way don't they? And the bake was great!

I also thought it would be fun to show you the inside of the household fridge. Why? I live with a bachelor. He fully lives up to the bachelor stereotype. While the fridge is full, look at what's in it?

The container on the bottom shelf with an actual solid food product is mine!
And my yummy sorrel is next to it.

I own a drawer in the bottom where I have FOOD items, but this is ridiculous isn't it? lol. I am not sure what he eats exactly, but you can bet he is seldom thirsty.

Back to coding...

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Say No to Shopping in Pyjamas!



Shopping in pyjamas - UNACCEPTABLE
Photo credit: BBC

By the way, I have finally dusted the cobwebs off my @trininista twitter handle so follow me! Link to the left!

So...after my lunch date, I idled around a bit and then got my train and decided I needed a few things at Sainsbury's. I was almost out of bagels, and it was to be a quick stop - in and out. Now, there is a phenomenon here which really gets me. It affects me deeply. It rattles me to the core as a woman, as a person, as someone who takes more than 5 minutes to fix myself before venturing out into the public domain.

Shopping in pyjamas.

As I walked through the supermarket, looking for my bagels, I walked into a woman, in full sleep wear. To make matters worse, she was wearing the awful Primark jammies I have seen on many a visit to the famed store. I could not believe it. If this was a fashion statement, it was a highly negative one. Who on earth would want to be seen in public in their pyjamas? At 5.30pm. It is both unsightly and reeks of low self esteem. Not only was she in her pyjamas, but it looked like she had literally just rolled off the bed - nasty, bed hair and a face that looked devoid of energy. And it's not just wearing say the pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. I could maybe, depending on the bottoms, excuse this (this is a really strong maybe). But girlfriend was in the full set - pyjama bottoms, pyjama top - an awful multicoloured get up, completed by socks and slippers.

I have run out of the house in my pyjamas once - but 1) just the bottoms which are a solid black, 2) it was 9pm, 3) I wore a t-shirt and a hoodie and proper shoes. Not the full pyjama ensemble with my bunny slippers and a do-rag!

Acceptable grocery shopping fashion

I don't carrrrrrrrrrrre how tired you are, miss. You can change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Now in Trinidad, some women take this supermarket thing to new levels. My own personal supermarket mode of dress - jeans, a baby tee, flip flops. A dab of mascara cause my mascara goes with me everywhere. But there are supermarketnistas back home who, for want of a better analogy, use the food aisles as catwalks. Heels, tight jeans, loads of makeup, blown out hair, dangly earrings. To each her own, but in my experience, the supermarket dating pool is rather bleak. The meat boys appreciate it for sure, and the hungry husbands tagging along with wifey, and granted there are the occasional single stunners, but generally - Trini supermarkets are not like the supermarkets on tv. You don't meet the man of your dreams while squeezing tomatoes or looking at bags of carrots. It just does not happen - or at least it has never happened to me. Whether I am going to the wrong Hi-Lo or at the wrong times may be up for debate, but the full fashion attack is really, in my opinion, not necessary.

This is an option if you're on the prowl
for more than bagels and pasta. lol

However, a shower, application of a toothpaste covered toothbrush to the mouth, a quick brush to the hair or a head scarf, and maybe some lip gloss if you wanna stretch it, are just essential. C'mon ladies. Pyjamas are bed wear. It is nasty to me. It means you slept all night, or did God knows what, and have come to stand next to me, with your unwashed body, touching my tomatoes. Can we make a ribbon in support of no pyjama shopping? lol.

What was even more alarming was this report by the BBC. I was innocently looking for a Google'd photo of a pyjama clad shopper to include in the post and found that this atrocious practice is widespread -so much so that the frickin' BBC has an entire article on it. And the Daily Mail! An excerpt, which was ALARMING to say the least -

A Tesco store has asked customers not to shop in their pyjamas or barefoot. Notices have been put up in the chain's supermarket in St Mellons in Cardiff saying: "Footwear must be worn at all times and no nightwear is permitted."
A spokesman said Tesco did not have a strict dress code but it did not want people shopping in their nightwear in case it offended other customers. (BBC)

I cannot believe a supermarket had to actually waste ink to make a sign asking people to dress and wear shoes to come to the supermarket. Unreal. Please. It does offend me. It does. Don't do it. Whether it is a quick pop in for cigarettes or an hour long outing for groceries - leave the pyjamas in the bedroom and make yourself seemly. I mean, have a little consideration for your appearance and the fact that you just never know who you may meet - even doing the most random things, like squeezing tomatoes. My motto is - always try to look presentable when out. You don't have to look like a top model, but look like you care about your appearance at least. And if you need a real life account of why this is important, then let me tell you how I roll on a normal Saturday in my neighbourhood Hi-Lo back in Trinidad.

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Trininista takes on the World - one issue at a time

I went to Tesco today, as opposed to Sainsbury's to get some rations for the week. There is a full "ethnic" section in my local Tesco, with stuff I don't always find in Sainsbury's. However, my grouse today, and this is not against Tesco at all, but a clear indictment of Trinidad and Tobago's manufacturing industry -

Why are all the Caribbean products from Jamaica?

I was really annoyed by this and this, again, is nothing against Tesco and nothing against Jamaica. In fact, kudos to Jamaica for making their presence felt. I could get their awful tasteless crackers as opposed to a bag of yummy Crix...

Whole wheat Crix trumps the competition in my opinion

...their seasoning which I don't like the taste of, as opposed to a bottle of Mabel's green seasoning; their hard dough bread, which I actually do like but I rarely eat white bread nowadays. I am really disappointed T&T. Really unimpressed. Is it any wonder why people think Trinidad is a town in Jamaica? REALLY?


However, with my care package coming direct from South Trinidad via British Airways and one lovely lady, I now have proper seasoning, my fave soy milk so I was loving the cereal aisle once more and proper cold meds after the Great Flu of 2010 depleted my supply. But had I remembered, I would have asked mums to send me a huge block of New Zealand cheddar cheese. I have tried. I have given it a good shot. I really experimented with it. But...

I hate British cheddar cheese. I really do. I love cheese and though I have my select cheeses I have when sipping on a glass of wine on the weekend, they aren't cheap enough for the every day student life sandwiches, nor yummy enough. But ugh...British cheddar is gross. Every 2 weeks, at my neighbourhood Hi-Lo, I would buy a block of Anchor light cheddar cheese. It's just the best cheese ever. A cheese sandwich here is just not the same. Macaroni pie is not the same. It's probably for the best - a few calories less. But I would kill for a block of NZ cheddar right about now. My first macaroni pie attempt here in London was not too shabby, considering it was a three-cheese pie because using British cheddar alone would have killed it. The Red Leicester topping gave it an awesome colour. The third cheese, if you want to count it, came from the fact that half of the pie was made from a box of Kraft Mac 'n' Cheese - so American sharp cheddar? lol. It's great!

Macaroni pie. Yummers.

Come to think of it, I had cheese issues in Jamaica as well. I always took my cheese with me from home because the idea of cheese in a tin was odd to me. What was odder was the fact that the cheese did not melt. I mean, you put that crap in the oven and unlike regular, normal cheese, this stuff did not really get gooey and stringy under heat. How could I eat that?

And as I am talking about national differences, from product placement to cheese, just a quick note on language as well. A man today told me I did not sound like a Trini. I am not sure which Trini he was comparing me to but I can assure you, my accent is very Trini. This is the thing - we all don't sound the same, buddy. Depending on where you live and your education, your accent is bound to be a bit different. This is not rocket science. All Brits don't sound the same either. My Greek professor pointed this out earlier this week when someone said the word "computer" as "compu-ah". He was a bit flabbergasted in that way he gets flabbergasted. I thought it was hilarious because though not sure how that accent would be classified by location, the omission of the "t" sound here in the land of English, is a great source of amusement for me.

Boh-uhl - bottle
Wha - what
Keh-uhl - kettle
Compu-ah - computer

Hilarious. Jamaicans have swapped the "h" sounds so that where there is an "h", there is no sound, and where there is no "h", there is the sound.

Onda - Honda
Hunder - under

Trinis often use the word "does" where it does not need to be, and they know better but it's part of the dialect.

I does tell him - I tell him
I does do it - I do it

But not all Brits say compu-ah, not all Jamaicans do weird things with the letter "h" and not all Trinis use double verbs. So when this bright and farse man tells me today I do not sound like a Trini, and mind you, he is not a Trini, I had to ask him when was the last time he went to Trinidad. This was in direct contrast to the Bajan lady in the poultry and meat aisle who asked me something about the price of a pack of wings and upon hearing my accent - "You from Trinidad? You would know that accent anywhere, girl".

Silly man.

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So, this is what normal people do on the weekend

I had forgotten what normal people do on the weekend - minus books and exams. I had a really nice weekend. A little bit of tv, (window) shopping with the girls, pub gaping, then yesterday, a really lovely afternoon at the Natural History Museum and dinner and drinks with the girls - the latter was really illuminating. lol. I love girl talk over drinks. It's like a life highlight.

And to round it all off, I have taken a page out of the TFL workers book and have gone on strike. I did not set my alarm, and even though, somehow by some black magic, I was awake at the time I needed to be up to get ready for class, I rolled over and went back to sleep. I have reached some sort of saturation point and today was the day to exercise my rights. lol. But why is it when I take a strike day, it suddenly becomes a sick day? Can't a girl enjoy a truant day without a valid excuse cropping up? Ugh. I feel like mess and still need to get on the bus to Sainsbury's to get some stocks for the week. I have a dotish class all week, every day, for the next 2 weeks, from 9 - 5, hence the strike.

Cafe Chino in South Kensington.
Say NO to Cafe Chi-NO. lol

So the dinner yesterday was really out of desperation and an unwillingness to go somewhere else. And as students, one has to look at one's budget hence - Cafe Chino. What.A.Disaster. I am always wary about places that have people hovering like vultures at the front door trying to get customers to come in. If your food is great, your reputation should get customers coming in. But hey, they were cheaper than some of the other places and in Kensington, well...cheap is rare. lol. But wow...I wish I had read reviews before going there. Reviews like - "Better die of starvation than go there!" lol.

The first table we were seated at was jammed against the wall so you literally had to suck your guts and ass in to fit. So we moved. The second table was a complete nightmare - next to the kitchen and it was like the dishwasher had a hatred for utensils cause he kept banging and crashing stuff, much to my annoyance. So we moved back to the tight squeeze table. Then this waiter, clearly underpaid and under-sexed, because he was the most disgusting and surly creature ever - was a complete hospitality nightmare. The food was edible and tolerable, thank God, but then this waiter whose entire body screamed "I do not want to serve you, smile at you, be helpful" informed us that they do not accept card payments. In this day and age? REALLY? So I think, again, out of laziness and partly out of spite, we left our payment of 40 odd pounds in coins. lol. Count that you bastard and look really hard for a tip. Nothing drives me crazier than bad service and this waiter was the poster child for it. Hope he liked the Polish coin we left for him.

The pub, cannot remember the name, was worlds better and besides the blind (obviously) woman who came up to me to tell me I looked like some singer, who I later Googled and realised was a complete and utter aesthetic disaster, the evening was lovely.

Gonna pop some painkillers and head to the store and come back and laze in bed for the rest of the day. Laundry is done. Bathroom facilities cleaned. Hair washed. Just need lunch and maybe some wine to take me to the end of this lovely day.

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2010 Recap; 2011 - Bring it On!

It's pretty damn sad when you get excited over an email announcing the sale at Sainsbury's. lol. Sainsbury's? Really?

But then, what else am I supposed to get excited about? I ordered some new bling, was promised it would be delivered in one day. One day later, I am blingless. Bear with me then as I jump up and down over the prospect of ordering pasta and orange juice at half price.

So another day has come and gone and today I did zero studying. My mind was just not in it. I woke up late, feeling groggy after taking stronger medication last night, and I just never really got into the swing of things. My email to the course director is still to be penned because it is alarming that in essence I have not even been afforded a hiatus from school work between semesters. I have been given 2 weeks off from the commute, but not from work. Not a robot, people. I cannot tend to my health as I would like because I am doomed to study every waking hour? Really?

High heel porn - I miss these shoes.

And another year has come and is almost gone. I cannot remember all the highs and lows of 2010 but there were some points that are kinda hard to miss. Let's see, I planned and executed my awesome vacation to Italy, and no Italians were harmed in the making of said vacation. I was an ardent fitness maven once more. I really love the gym. Really miss the gym. What else? Oh, happy year - it was a World Cup year. No explanation needed! Helped with the planning and hosting of the long overdue high school reunion - reuniting the best and brightest and most beautiful girls on the planet after eons. I gained a new cute nephew and became a first time aunt. I loved my job, hated my job, did well at my job, quit my job, and moved to the other side of the world, away from my world, my life, my people!!!! Moved miles away, with no job, barely any disposable income for the lifestyle I am used to, and paid people to be inconvenienced daily via assignments, studying and odd people. In case you could not ascertain the last part - I became a Masters student. lol. And after only blogging about my career, I started this blog in May to blog about life outside of the office. It's a good thing seeing that I have no job at the moment. lol

The other bits, which I do not blog about, went through some upheaval but all things happen for a reason I say. Leaving trash in the past and moving forward with only shiny, bright optimism.

I don't make resolutions - to be a better person, to diet or any of that crap. I do just try to learn from my mistakes and move past them, and try to make the new year more memorable than the last. And to be happy. And to ensure that the people I love most are happy and healthy. That's it really. Hopefully I will fall in love with London all over again in 2011 because as it is now, between school and illness and winter, London and I are headed for divorce. A bitter bitter divorce. More free time in semester two and good health, should be the therapy we need to keep the love alive.

Health. Hmm...there's a concept. I am on cup #100 of lemon flu tea and now I also have some weird stomach bug that is really keeping me on the NHS watchlist, so it's fun times at Casa de Estudiante. Really hoping to be at least 85% to ring in 2011 but if not, I know that the next 365 days have a lot of promise because I will it to be so.

Happy New Year guys.

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Christmas - Just not meant to be

Chocolate, whipped marshmallowy bliss.
Coming to a couch near you!

This morning I woke up and decided to end my self-imposed exile from the world and go out into town to do some "shopping". Note the quotation marks. This is not shopping as I am used to. This is student shopping - bargain shopping, window shopping, lust shopping. So anyway, I pull on my trusty winter gear, loaded up my MP3 player with Christmas songs to keep me smiling and to hopefully get me into some kinda spirit, and stepped out into the Tundra that is London and hopped on a red bus to the mall.

It was not as nauseating as I thought it would be. Trinis really do it much worse, but then it is still a few days away, right? Right? It's Saturday, right?

I did the essentials first - needed some tights to finish off the Christmas Day outfit, needed some batteries, some juice. One thing I really needed and try as I might I could not locate them - chocolate covered marshmallows. It is not Christmas without marshmallows and I went into Thornton's, Sainsbury's, TK Maxx, BHS - to no avail.

Heaven!!!

It looked bleak and the depression deepened. Then I went into good ole Poundland and there, on the bargain shelves of my bargain store, were boxes and boxes of Cadbury Chocolate Mallows. I pounced on a carton and shoved it into my basket with the gleam of victory in my eye. The world was right again. I also got some mini marshmallows for Christmas Eve hot chocolate, when I will hopefully be watching Love Actually while sitting in fluffy socks on the couch.

But the day went downhill after the small marshmallow triumph. I am not sure whether it was the anxiety from not being able to buy this awesome red, white and black sweater dress (just made for a Trini!!!), the lack of the financial catalyst to walk around in the mall, the throng of people or the obvious, a missed meal - but I started to feel rather ill, the familiar faint feeling I get ever so often when I do not eat breakfast and then prolong lunch, and compound both by shopping. lol. But with my body giving me the tell-tale signs that trouble was around the corner, I decided after cashing out at Sainsbury's that I would have to get the cousin's present another day, and I headed to McDonald's to get a soda and fries to hold me over til I got home.

Needless to say, there are more strollers per square kilometre in London than there are pubs and as I walked in Mickey D's, I was assaulted by dozens of bawling babies and strollers in front of the counter. I was feeling okay so the kids were not annoying me yet but in no time at all, my blood sugar went from A to Z and everyone was annoying me and my hands were clammy, I was getting the shakes, and my head was spinning. The girl who FINALLY got to me (the world's slowest cashier ever) took zonks to fill my order. I watched, as though in slow motion, as she filled my cup with the Sprite I desperately needed to prevent an embarassing fainting episode in the middle of frickin' London. I almost did not believe it was me when I heard the voice say "Excuse me, princess. Would you speed it up, please...seriously!" I was feeling the life draining out of me and I just needed sugar. This girl was taking her frickin time to scoop some ice, to bag some fries. By the time she put the Sprite down before me, I did not even want the straw. I just grabbed it, threw off the lid and devoured the sugary mess because I was literally 10 seconds away from fainting.

And that was the end of all shopping today. I sat eating greasy fries and drinking nasty soda trying to undo the damage done by poor eating over the past few days, and the subsequent low blood sugar. But I am still glad I got out the house for a few hours. Going to have some lunch, though it is probably closer to dinner and then a choccie marshmallow and maybe a glass of something squeezed out from a grape. Then a nap, and hopefully, some studying. Santa has done me no favours as usual, so a night with the books is in order.

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When exactly is Christmas??

Photo courtesy Caribbean Pot.
My camera's battery needs recharging

I had resolved not to blog when I don't feel chipper and for the past few days I have not been. I spent each day in bed, feeling horrible, sleeping a lot and just not embracing the world, except via online streaming and Sky. Not much has changed today, but I have exams looming and so I need to open the books and get into a productive, non-moping frame of mind.

I did manage to use the few days to catch up on emails, Grey's Anatomy (the best show ever!!), Desperate Housewives, Bridget Jones (both movies, but nothing beats the first. She is so me it is scary!) and cooking. I had been wanting a meal of curried chicken since my birthday and so with the supplies I picked up in Sainsbury's on Friday (smart girl to pick up stuff after class on Friday, so I do not have to leave the house until after Christmas), I turned a pot yesterday, making the house all warm and spicy smelling. It was a highlight.

I also tried finding a centre at which I could volunteer and kill the "sad" bug but seems London is not only filled with lonely people, but filled with lonely people with the same idea and the woman told me that they did not need any more volunteers. Imagine that. So that leaves the books. Oh joy. lol.

My mother has started the holiday madness at home, and when I spoke to her via Skype on Sunday, she was covered in paint from the house painting and flower pot painting. She is a trip, lemme tell ya. It is a very Trini phenomenon - this topsy-turvying of the house for Christmas. It is part of what makes it so special for so many people. It's a renewal of sorts and a sadistic way of families bonding. lol. Honestly, I do not miss that part. I hate housework. But I do miss the cooking and the baking and the Christmas parties and dinners and seeing friends and family. Nothing is happening here. I had brought pastelles with me, and dried sorrel, so I can have a taste of home that way. If I feel like it, I may bake a cake, but I don't feel like it actually. Not sure what I am doing on the day. I am not even sure what day it is (checking calendar in head...too much effort, so stop). I have zero spirit. Zero.

But I do have curry and clean laundry after a very productive Monday so that is a blessing. I also have Inception, which is also a great thing and I will save that for a free moment. Until then, wish me luck with the textbooks. God knows I will need it.

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The Great London Thaw

Well, first let me show off my award. I love awards.

Thank you, Facing50WithHumour. I enjoy reading your blog because it is hilarious, real and full of fun. I need that every day. As for bestowing the award, that's always a bit harder because mostly my non-blogging friends read this blog and not too many other bloggers. :-( But if I can give it back to you, in thanks for being a regular, and one I adore, then I will.

Secondly, today was, surprisingly...

...despite the closure of the District Line, which meant I had to take a series of buses and trains instead to get to Dagenham. But I got there without any major disruption which takes me to my next point.

Thirdly, I now have clipped ends and spunk back in my locks. Money well spent from the unemployed student's coffers. Another week could not have gone by with my hair in such a state. My motto in life is, you may be poor, but you can still be fabulous, and hell...hell, if I was going to look like some heathen in December of all months. If I have to eat Sainsbury's crackers for the rest of the month to make up for it, I will but I don't have to be nervous if the wind blows my hat off anymore. Yaaay.

But...as soon as I walked out of the salon, it began raining. Really, England? Really???

Getting back to my part of London, I went to Sainsbury's, got a heap of vegetables, some pasta for the pasta drawer (of course!), some garlic bread, some apple doughnuts (for the sweet tooth), some pork chops (for my inner Nigella), some chicken breasts and a bottle of wine (for my inner lush), and yet I came home and felt an intense craving for corned beef. Corned beef. Something I rarely eat but when I crave it, I enjoy it immensely. Luckily, my cousin always buys stuff, never uses any of it, and I am the expiration date stalker. And there was a tin of far from expiration date corned beef in the cupboard, and I added some onions, corn, tomatoes and sweet peppers to it and put some garlic bread in the oven to get warm, golden brown and crispy. Queen Elizabeth never had a better lunch/dinner!!!

There were a lot of *drip drip* sounds across London as the snow and ice melted and a lot of *thud thud* as cakes of ice fell off windscreens and windowsills. God answered my prayer and gave me excellent Saturday weather and I shudder just typing that because this is by no means excellent by tropical standards, but trains were running, buses were not skating off the roads, and salons were open, so yes...it was EXCELLENT weather today. So next up, Friday and Saturday climate excellence. I will not be greedy and ask for the entire week but I have places to be on both days and I would appreciate if it were not snowing or raining. I never thought I would say this but I can tolerate the cold. I cannot tolerate, however, precipitation of any kind so please...

And in winter fashion updates, female hamsters really amaze me. Here it is, I am dying to get me a pair of sexy high heeled boots but with my rational mind I know these would not work for long walks on the icy pavements, not to mention walking in London in general. I have felt my boot on the edge of many a skid in the past week, witnessed many a fall yesterday, including one gentleman who just sat on the ice and started laughing hysterically - and all in flat, practical snow boots. Why on earth then are the female hamsters in boots that look like these?

I am really beginning to question the character of some of these women. I love looking good but at the expense of my limbs? At the expense of my safety? At the expense of my pride? I say a silent prayer with every foot fall on the ice on my walk home and pray to God I don't go flying down the pavement with a thud. Yet these hamsters are clippity clipping  and treading carefully in non-skid-proof platform and stiletto-heeled boots and shoes. I am really concerned. But then maybe they are more skilled in navigating the ice than I am.

Maybe. I pray that none of them fall in my presence because I am not sure I would be able to stifle the laughter.

Finally, I really hate the garbage bag jackets. You know...the shiny jackets that look like an inflated garbage bag. And worse, they're quilted. The ones like these...

The really scary part is when larger women wear them. I am not a matchstick myself and I will NEVER wear a jacket like this. But ladies, in general, this jacket should be worn in maybe a brown or white, but not garbage bag black or blue, and certainly, if you're over a certain size, you really should avoid these jackets because then you look a bit like...well...like this.

The Michelin Man

I am seeing more and more of this jacket around London and I am not sure if they are trendy, expensive or just on sale, but God...please let the madness stop.

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How I Have Managed to Survive Grad School

My status on Facebook today read:

If UK food chains like Sainsbury's and Marks and Sparks did not have ready-to-go meals, I think I would be dead.

I told you on Saturday that I went to the store and got some veggies and seasonings, including a great piece of pumpkin and some mushrooms. I managed to find time to finish seasoning the cuts of chicken and shove it all in a pan and into the oven. That's easy. As for the rest...no time allotted. I ended up hitting my neighbourhood Sainsbury's and getting some 2-minute meals to once again, fill the pasta drawer. I also bought stuff like bread and ham for breakfast-on-the-run.
 

The bread never made it into the real world this morning. In my morning "dash for the bus that comes whenever it damn well feels like coming" moment, the most effort I could put into breakfast was shoving a packet of Nescafe mocha mix into my bag. Thank God for Marks and Spencer's at Waterloo, and their cheese sandwiches. I also grabbed a bottle of water and I was reassured that I would not pass out from hunger at school.
 
I came home tonight and had an awesome salad with my chicken and some pasta - the salad being out of a ready-to-go box from Sainsbury's as was the pasta. I have 2 sets of research to do tonight, one for assessment and cooking is not really an option. So you see, despite my best efforts to "turn a pot", I always fall back on M&S, and Sainsbury's and now with the new Tesco's having opened near my final bus stop, well...I am surely the perfect choice for ready meals spokesperson/spokesblogger. Anyone out there willing to pay me to review these meals? 
 
This is probably why I have been unable to effect the same kind of weight loss I managed during my undergrad because with the exception of fast food, ready meals in supermarkets in Jamaica were nasty and few. It was either eat the nasty Grace ready meals, face the microwave and the ramen noodles cupboard or face the stove. In my first semester, I had every flavour of ramen noodles ever made. My mother did not recognise me when I got home that Christmas and her mission was to fatten me up, which she did. Here, I just go to frickin' Sainsbury's and have a decent meal, and worse if they are on special. They are in fact very good and I am really picky and finicky about food so that is saying plenty. I will though make some time for my pumpkin and mushrooms this week before they go bad. The life of a struggling student!!!
 
And speaking of my cheese sandwich, the Brits have some really odd names for towns here. It has now become a pasttime of mine to listen out for new place names while waiting for trains, and have a laugh. Today I got on a train heading to Sandwich. I kid you not...the place is called SANDWICH. Can you imagine sending a letter to someone living in Sandwich, United Kingdom? Hilarious. I also sometimes get on a train heading to Battle. That one is worse...
 
Oh where are you going?
I'm off to Battle.
 
Gotta love the Brits. Gotta love 'em.

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Dating a Sports Star

During one of my assignment breaks this afternoon, I sat down to catch up on the Commonwealth Games, now taking place in New Delhi, India. So far, my countrymen have snagged 2 silver and 2 bronze medals. Very proud of my little island. Then during one of the commercial breaks I switched channels and there was something I had never seen in all my life and I pictured dating a guy and bringing him home to meet my sports-loving father and the conversation with my dad going something like this:

Me: Hey dad. This is my new boyfriend.
Daddy: So what do you do?
Boyfriend: Into sports, sir.
Daddy: Oh really? I love sports. Used to play cricket, and I love football, track and shit like boxing too. So you play football?
Boyfriend: No.
Daddy: Oh, you run track? What are you? Sprinter or long distance runner? Or maybe you're into field events? Long jump?
Boyfriend: No. None of those.
Daddy: Cricket?
Boyfriend: No sir.
Daddy: So what the ass do you do?
Boyfriend: I am a trampolinist.
Daddy: A what?
Boyfriend: I am a national trampoline champion.
Daddy: Chile, get this man outta mih house and doh bring him back until he plays a REAL sport.

There it was. The UK National Trampoline Finals on my tv. I was laughing so hard I thought I would pee myself. I mean, I was certain there would be no black men in this ting. It has to be the most stupid thing I had ever heard of. Grown men and women jumping up and down on a trampoline for sport. Okay, so they were doing turns and twists and stuff, but really? A whole sport?

In other news, I found it a wee bit hilarious that as I got on the train heading to Waterloo a little after 7 this this morning, after a housewarming party last night, I still managed to pull a textbook out of my bag and read all the way in to London, despite a night of drinks, friends and dancing. There is something wrong with that image, isn't there?

What's more wrong than that image? Sitting here on a Saturday night with 6 books and countless journal articles open on my task bar, instead of being out in the West End drinking something fruity and rummy. I did manage to leave the house briefly to head down to my local Sainsbury's and get a dinner for 2 deal of paella, some veggies in white wine with shallot butter, a bottle of pinot grigio and dessert for just £10. Because yet again, I had to cancel all weekend activity, which included a wedding out of the city, and a dinner date, for school work, so had to bring the weekend to me. It was the best meal I had all week. For in-house food, it's pretty awesome stuff. What would I ever do without pre-packaged meal deals?

And it's going to be a long night of reading, assimilating, writing and theorising, so watch this space.

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