Dark-eyed and rootless

I’ve been thinking recently about roots and being settled. I live in London, and consider myself a Londoner, which in itself might sound as if I feel as if I belong in our fair capital, but to be honest, I don’t.

I was born in Kent and lived there in different places for the first 10 years of my life, then moved over the county border into Surrey, where I stayed until heading off to university in Sheffield.

I then moved back to London for a couple of years, before relocating to St Albans for a while, and then returning to London.

The problem is, I’ve never quite stayed anywhere long enough to feel settled and put down ‘roots’.

I don’t feel particularly at home in London, even. And the question is, why?

I think that maybe some of it has to do with how connected I feel to the community I live in and the people around me. If I left tomorrow, I’d feel no emotional pull to my current place and area of residence.

And that’s the key… emotion. What does it actually take to produce that kind of feeling about a place or an area? The thing about emotional memories of a place is that they can never be quite recaptured.

I went back to Sheffield a few times after graduating and it was never the same. The people weren’t there any more, the odd pub and shop had changed and, more to the point, I no longer lived there.

I do actually hope I find somewhere that I feel happy and rooted in at some point… I just haven’t really found it yet.

Banjo, Banjo, Banjo is brand new

Someone mentioned old-skool chocolate bars today and Banjo came to mind.

I remember reading recently that countless chocolate bars are launched in the UK every year and very few of them actually make it past the first few months.

Who can forget Anthea Turner and Grant Bovey’s misguided attempts to plug a… errr… well, whatever the bar was at their wedding?

Well, clearly a Banjo is no longer available, but I remember enjoying them a lot in the 70s/80s and would love to see them back.

Anyway, all that nonsense put me in mind of the banjo, as a musical instrument, and I remembered the fantastic album by Laura Veirs, The Triumphs and Travails of Orphan Mae and this track Jailhouse Fire. Enjoy!

Soiled… by Delia

Delia Smith - the cheatI returned from the supermarket yesterday and unpacked the shopping, when my eye caught an additional label on something I’d bought…

A DELIA Cheat ingredient

I recoiled at the sight of this… how could I have bought something that Delia uses to ‘cheat’ with?

I’m not suggesting everything I make in the kitchen is of artisan quality, but ‘cheating’ in the kitchen is the kind of thing that makes me feel dirty.

Let’s face it, we all use ingredients that make our lives easier: tinned tomatoes, stock cubes/bouillon powder, dried herbs are even cheating, if you think about it.

For me, that’s why the recent Delia series is a bit of a con. Cooking shouldn’t be about ‘cheating’ and ‘cutting corners’.

The end result should be something you feel proud of, not ashamed of.

Given that Ms Smith has spent her life telling us the ‘proper’ way to cook things, I’m disappointed she’s ‘turned turtle’, as it were.

Anyway, what was the item I bought that is a Delia cheat?

A packet of fresh tortelloni… come on, who makes their own pasta every time?