It's beginning to look a lot like (a budget-friendly, sharehouse) Christmas...

I'd like to say, 'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas' in an appropriately sing-songy tune (when else can one be so cheesy as at this festive time of year?), but as the shopping centres have been all over Christmas since October that would be a lie. Instead - and for your benefit I'll just write it rather than sing it - it's looking rather like Christmas in my living room.

This will be my third sharehouse Christmas. The kind of Christmas where no one is actually at the house, because they've all gone home to families, so a tree is probably an unnecessary cost. I took this attitude for my first Christmas out of home - rather than going to the trouble of a tree I set up a Christmas staircase. I still do this for novelty value, just a little more pared back now that I have a tree as well. You can wind tinsel or lights or something similar - I have used a wrapped and beaded wire - around the bannister and then hang decorations from that. The little wiry twists that come with garbage bags can be used to affix decorations directly to the staircase - just put one of the wiry pieces through the loop on the decoration.

As I said, I have a little tree now, just a plastic one bought from a homewares store a couple of years ago. It seemed a tad ridiculous to buy one of the 8ft trees when there would be no one opening presents underneath it. I suspect trees of that stature have to be earned, you would need to prove to the sales person that you had enough people coming to your Christmas to justify that amount of tree. I have to admit that I miss the smell of the pine, but am forever scarred by an image from my childhood of a grand and beautiful green tree taken down in the New Year and left by the house to wither to a sad brown. It turns out there is a service for people like me (besides therapy) - a great business in Melbourne called Eco Christmas Trees that rents out living, potted trees to those that want the best of both worlds - a lovely scented tree that doesn't die AND can be delivered to your door. It's up to you whether you keep the tree or return it after Christmas, and if you're the sentimental type you can even have the same tree back year after year.

Once you have the tree sorted, you'll be wanting to light it up all pretty. If you're feeling green, LED lights are apparently the most friendly and least energy-sucking. They aren't the most attractive Christmas light, but you could make it fun, like this rather handy, design savvy person did. For those still stuck in an 80s/90s glitter nightmare, tinsel goes on next, as chunky and lurid as you can possibly make it. Decorations next. If you like the luxe look for your tree but have a sharehouse budget, buy brightly coloured wired ribbon and tie the ribbon into bows and affix them to the tree. If you like to update the look of your tree each year, but don't want to waste last year's decorations, you can change the colour of the ribbon. This year I've used red ribbon with gold edging.


The Christmas warehouses can be a good source of inexpensive decorations, although I would suggest limiting your time in those places as they tend to divide people into die-hard elves and Scrooges. Alternatively, if you're feeling organised and perky, pack your best armour and pushiest friend and hit the post-Christmas sales at a department store like Myer in preparation for the year to come.

More Christmas posts to come.

2010: the year of living recklessly

After careful consideration, I have decided that 2010 will be the year of living recklessly (obviously the careful consideration and reckless bits are somewhat at odds, so reckless behaviour will commence after that last careful consideration).

I've taken the first step. My contract at work has just expired, and they kindly offered to make me a permanent member of staff. My stomach sank, my marrow screamed 'no'and two weeks later I said no - somewhat less emphatically than my marrow had. Significantly less emphatically, actually, as they weren't quite convinced that I had resigned. It took two tries and that letter to leave.

I don't ordinarily follow/pay attention to/place significant weight in the words of horoscopes, except, of course, when they match up with what I want. But a colleague, upon hearing that I was departing, emailed me a rather detailed description of which moon is moving through which sign, who is orbiting who and so forth (all sounds a bit rude really), the short of which is that apparently this is a time when we can expect radical change. Rather accurate really. And not just for me, either. The fortune of Mr Anti Choice himself, Tony Abbott, for example, has vastly changed. Those ears were just meant for politics and newspaper caricatures.

So, universe, I have opened up a giant and expensive chasm in my life. Now if you could please oblige by sending something radical my way, I'd be most appreciative.

Since it's not quite 2010, the recklessness is quite tame at this stage. This weekend's act of recklessness is to pulp three perfectly lovely mangoes and risk spoiling them for the potentially happy outcome that is sorbet. The other potential outcome, of course, is sad and ruined mangoes that would have been wonderful just as they were until I got all reckless on their loveliness. On reflection, this could be a terrible allegory for what I have just done to my employment prospects: pulped.

If you would like to pulp things I would recommend starting with mangoes before chucking in your job.

This is pretty much a Tessa Kiros recipe, from Apples for Jam (I've just used a little less sugar).

What you'll need...

2-3 ripe mangoes
1/3 cup caster sugar
juice of 2 limes
grated rind of 1 lime

The how to...

1. Peel the mangoes and chop the flesh into small chunks.
2. Tip the mango into a bowl with the rest of the ingredients, then stir and cover. Leave overnight - this draws out the mango juice.
3. The next day, blend until smooth. Sieve the mixture if it is stringy. You can add sugar a little at a time if you like, for more sweetness.
4. Top up with water to make about 2 cups of mixture and then pour into a container with a lid. Stick it in the freezer. After an hour, pull it out and give it a whisk then put it back in the freezer for a couple more hours, before pulling it out to whisk again. When it is nearly firm, pull it out for one last whisk then leave it in the freezer to set. If you have an ice cream maker you can circumvent the in/out/whisk thing.

Will post a picture tomorrow if it turns out pretty. This is supposed to serve 4-6 people, but I'm inclined to thinking that on a hot day it is enough to make one person very happy.

Dear Kate Moss,

Regarding your recent comment that 'nothing tastes as good as skinny feels' (Women's Wear Daily, Fri 13 Nov), whilst I appreciate that you have founded your career on being a controversial angular waif, I would like to suggest - ever so politely - that you are wrong.

I think that the pro-anorexia critics have covered this sufficiently from a health perspective in the last few days, so I don't plan on rehashing that part of the debate.

From someone who knows, I would like to offer a list of just a few things that taste better than skinny feels.

1. Green & Black's Organic Chocolate

Their milk chocolate is to die for. With a higher cocoa content than your average chocolate, it is the perfect compromise between milk and dark chocolate. Every good supermarket will stock it.

How to eat: share it whilst chatting on the couch with your girlfriends.

2. Anything from Sparkle Cupcakery

The fittingly festive iced pumpkin cupcake is amazing. I'm going back to try the lavendar and honey, and lychee and rose. Don't even try to stop me.

How to eat: when a lovely man picks one up for you and brings it home in the late afternoon in the gorgeous thick paper bag as a surpise , risk spoiling your appetite before dinner and share it. Then eat dinner.

3. The freshly made eggplant, onion and roasted almond ravioli from The Pasta Gallery

You can buy it on Saturdays from the Eveleigh Market, or pick it up from their kitchen, or wait for delivery day.

How to eat: have dinner with the man who surprised you with a cupcake. I cooked it up and served it with a butter, lemon juice and sage sauce, tossed with finely sliced zucchini and fresh spinach and rocket.

4. Breakfast at Cafe Giulia on Sunday morning

Eggs scrambled with haloumi, mint and tomato and served with kefte, or smoked salmon rosettes with hash browns, perfectly poached eggs, spinach, lemon, and some kind of delicious mayonnaise type condiment - these are just two of many offerings.

How to eat: a knife and fork will generally see you through. Nab one of the bigger tables in the courtyard and fill it up with your nearest and dearest. Don't forget the coffee.

5. Lemon Calippo

Icy, lemony confectionary goodness. 99% fat free - Kate, I promise that the odd one of these won't have you out of your skinny jeans anytime soon.

How to eat: wait for a hot day then embrace your inner five year old - run off the beach, skip up to the nearest corner store, tear off the foil, slurp away and definitely don't share this one.

So perhaps enjoying food means I won't be starring in a Yves Saint Laurent mini-movie (and yes, Kate, congratulations are due, you do look unrealistically and unattainably beautiful) but it certainly tastes better than skinny feels.

With kind regards,

A happy girl at a healthy weight

P.S. I've included a gorgeous vintage advertisement titled 'If you want to be popular, you can't afford to be skinny'. Just something you might want to think about...

Consumerist kitten

Consumerist kitten does battle with the Visa. Rather exemplifies my love-hate relationship with my credit card. Love at shopping time, and hate at bills time. Kitten moves through the motions a little faster - in all of 11 seconds, actually.

I suspect she was shopping online, looking to import a mail order man(cat) - one of those sexy sleek Siamese, or perhaps one of the more rugged Russian Blues. The neighbourhood cats don't quite cut it. I expect a designer diamond studded flea collar or three and a year-long supply of Tetsuya's tuna sashimi will arrive in the next week or so also.

Stabbing it out in the kitchen with Jack and Jill

For the first time in my vaguely grown up life, I am celebrating All Hallows' E'en.

As a kid we did the trick-or-treat thing - under the watchful gaze of my parents, in a clearly defined perimeter, and with strict instructions not to perform any tricks if treats weren't delivered. It was all about who could bring home the biggest teeth-rotting haul, and who could consume said haul fastest without spewing up a technicolour dream.

This year, I am celebrating with jack 0'lanterns that I have carved myself. That's right, my idea of vaguely grown up Halloween is being allowed to use sharp implements for fun. Despite the howls of the anti-America brigade, Halloween is taking off in Australia (a note for said haters: it started out as a Celtic pagan celebration, a kind of festival of the dead, not an American Hallmark card). The practically hollow 'gourd' pumpkins were stocked by Harris Farm this month, and decorations and costumes are easier to source than ever. So maybe Halloween isn't strictly an Australian holiday - but why be patriotic when there are ghouls to be scared off, cult horror to be absorbed, pumpkins to be carved and a sugar free-for-all on offer?

Should you wish to partake in the Halloween spirit, pumpkin disembowelling is a particularly festive option. And easier than you ever thought, too. The pumpkins are mostly hollow, very unlike the Australian varieties. Arm yourself with the best knife that your kitchen has (a challenge in a sharehouse, I will admit) and follow the instructions of a person who has done this many more times than I have. I would encourage you to scoop out the seeds and stringy membranes with your hands rather than a spoon, as this is much more fun. Don't forget to keep the seeds. They are damn tasty after some toasting - see my recipe below. Also, if this is your first go at carving, designs with straight lines are much easier to work with than curves.

Off with his head!

Mmmmmm, brains....

Toasted pumpkin seeds!

You will need...

Pumpkins (the Halloween kind)
Olive oil
Salt

The how-to...

1. Preheat your oven to 200 degrees, and put a saucepan of well-salted water on to boil.
2. Take the seeds that you have scooped out of your pumpkin and separate them from the stringy stuff, then give the seeds a good rinse.
3. Tip the seeds into the boiling, salted, water, and turn the heat down until the water is at a simmer. Leave it at a simmer for 10 minutes.
4. Empty the contents of the saucepan into a colander, and shake all of the excess water off the pumpkin seeds. Spread them out on a baking tray and drizzle with olive oil.
5. Pop the tray into the hot oven and keep an eye on them. They should start to brown within 10 - 20 minutes, pull them out a couple of times in this period to give the tray a shake, and then for the last time when they are toasted to your satisfaction.
6. Let them cool properly and then taste for seasoning. You can add a little more salt at this point, and serve.

Cat in my hat

Come springtime, fashion - and all those who worship at its altar - turn to hats. Hats are the make or break factor in any races outfit, and it seems they are also the latest in bed wear. At least, according to Miss Molly, who won't be seen lounging on my bed without this stiff cream net number.

Simplicity is all the rage this year, says this fashion forecast, and Miss Molly has customised last year's hat appropriately. Gone are the fussy pink and black spotted feathers of last season. They were ripped out of the hatband and devoured like the inanimate-reminiscent-of-bird-prey/fashion faux pax that they were. Feathers are to be replaced by brooches or gemstones, apparently. This might explain the accruing collection of dead cockroaches in the house that kitten inspects frequently, turning them over with her paw before rejecting them for small flaws like scratches and crushed shells. If you were to look closely, they have a certain shine and brooch-like shape to them. If nothing else, the legs would probably adhere quite well to the stiff net of the hat like cicada shells on a tree. A little has been done to making the hat smaller and more structured than it was, in the way of some artful claw-work. There is definitely less hat than there used to be. Kitten hasn't quite gotten to re-colouring the hat yet, but luckily for her cream has been tipped as an elegant option this year.

It may not be her finest piece yet, but at least she will trump Dr. Seuss's Cat in the Hat, with his Where's Wally colour theme and penchant for the ridiculous. Not that I'm one of those pushy and competitive (kitten) stage-mothers, but between you and me, I imagine the Cat would probably grin less if he knew exactly how outdated his oversized and multicoloured headpiece would be amongst the pillboxes and bejewelled headbands at this years Fashion on the Field contest.

Do the noodle dance

Not exactly sure what the noodle dance would look like (perhaps a sperm-like wriggling, coupled with jumping?), but a number of people (myself included) did a spontaneous jig when getting close enough to the Night Noodle Markets in Hyde Park to smell the noodly-goodness.

The Night Noodle Markets are an institution at the Sydney International Food Festival (previously known as Good Food Month). Of all that is on offer, this is one of the most affordable and accessible ways to take part in the food festivities. For two weeks in October, Hyde Park is transformed into a series of upmarket hawker stalls. Free entertainment abounds, elegantly costumed women dance on a central stage set amidst lanterns and light shows and parades of Chinese drums and Lion dancers snake expertly through the tightly packed tables, chairs and crowds.

We arrived at 7.30pm to find the park heaving with people. Queues looked revoltingly long, but once we made up our minds about which stall to eat from (East Ocean Restaurant for yum cha style food) it was an easy 5 - 10 minutes to the front of the line. We ordered one of the many meal deals on offer - salt and pepper squid with a 10 piece dim sum for $25 - and it was handed over steaming hot and fragrant within seconds. Despite the crowds, we quickly scored a table and chairs for 9 people, and this seemed to be the case for most.

The offering from East Ocean was good value, comfortably feeding two hungry people. The dim sum included a selection of the the less expensive items - deep fried spring rolls and pork buns - as well as a couple of nicer pieces like steamed prawn dumplings. It is possible to purchase the dim sum items individually for $2 each if you only want your favourites. The salt and pepper squid was the winner though; the batter was light and crisp, the balance of salt and pepper was just right and the squid was tender, with no stringiness to speak of.

Healthier options are also available at the markets if you are so inclined, my flatmate ordered a gently spiced, lemon-laced, seafood and salad plate from Seafood and Eat It. If Asian cuisine is not for you, there is a token gozleme stand amongst the hawker food. Toby's Estate and the delightful Serendipity ice cream also have stalls, and there are a couple of bars - including a Coopers beer garden - onsite too. The only critique would be that although the festival had advertised that they were taking a green approach this year some vendors were still serving food in plastic containers, rather than using the recyclable plates.

The loveliest aspect of the festival, and this alone is worth going along for, is being able to experience a beautiful part of Sydney made into a functional and vibrant social space for people to come together - and on a weeknight, no less. My only regret is not leaving space for noodles.

The 2009 Night Noodle Markets are on Oct 12-16 and 19-23 from 5.00pm-9.30pm in Hyde Park. Head to the official site for more information about what is happening during the Sydney International Food Festival.

A Hollywood ending

A solution for when cakes go a little wrong: stick in letter-shaped candles for a Hollywood sign effect and all the funny looking pieces will be forgiven.


This one only went wrong because I didn't grease the moulds properly. Otherwise, this is quite a good recipe - mostly because it harnesses the awesome tastebud surprise that is chocolate and chilli at the same time. You can start this recipe the day before, it can be done in two stages.

You will need...

1/2 cup sour cream
100g dark chocolate, chopped
100g unsalted butter, softened and chopped
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 eggs, at room temperature
a splash of vanilla essence
1 cup plain flour
1 teaspoon chilli powder (for an extra kick, substitute half of this with cayenne pepper)
1/4 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1/4 teaspoon salt

The how-to...

1.Pre-heat oven to 180 degrees and grease 6 muffin tins.
2. In a little saucepan, over low heat, stir the dark chocolate, sour cream and chilli/cayenne pepper until the chocolate has melted. Stir continuously so that the chocolate does not stick and burn. Turn off the heat and put aside for a moment.
3. Take a small bowl and line with plastic wrap, then pour the chocolate mixture in. Let it cool, then cover and freeze (overnight if you wish).
4. On the day you wish to serve the cakes of loveliness, beat together the butter and sugar. Add the eggs, one at a time, then the vanilla, and continue to beat unti incorporated.
5. Sift the flour, bicarbonate of soda and salt together into the butter mixture. Stir until combined. Divide the mixture equally between the muffin tins, and put into the oven for 12 minutes.
6. Take the frozen chocolate and cut into 6 pieces. Roll each piece into a ball and push gently into the centre of each of the semi-cooked muffins.
7. Pop the tray back into the oven for another 15 minutes - the muffins should look done, there may be chocolate bubbling out of the top. Let them cool a little in the tray before you take them out to serve.

These are lovely with vanilla mascarpone, or a little ice cream. And fancy candles if you make a mess like I did.

New Zealand: more than just a place that accepts Americans

For the general embarrassment of the the New Zealand media and public, PM John Key recently appeared on the David Letterman show to present the top ten reasons to visit the Land of the Long White Cloud. Note: contrary to his televised offer, John Key will not collect you from the airport. Particularly if you arrive at 4.00am after your plane has been delayed due to a freak red dust storm. More celebrity-grabbing publicity stunt than tourism campaign, Key didn't exactly sell the place. Should you find yourself in Auckland, for example, there is more to do than visit the new Cinnabon at the airport. This isn't a top ten, because (to the surprise of most) there are more than ten things to be done in Auckland. And none of them involve sheep.

We'll start with breakfast.

1. Altar
465 Mt Eden Rd, Mt Eden. Open daily from 7am - 10pm for breakfast, lunch and tapas.

Licensed cafe set up in a pretty white villa set back from the road containing a 300 year old Spanish altar, for which the cafe is named. The altar is usually strewn with homemade goodies of the sweet variety, which go down nicely with the Allpress coffee.

I've read some bad reviews, but in my experience this place is a lovely brunch option, offering the classics with a little something extra - try the roast mushrooms with creamy goats cheese puree on sourdough, or the poached free range eggs with corned beef hashbrowns and hollandaise. The relishes and chutneys that came with the savoury dishes add a hint of spice and a punch of colour. If you're lucky enough to get a sunny day, try to nab a courtyard seat to escape the noise inside.

2. Chapel
147 Ponsonby Rd, Ponsonby (or Ponsnobby, depending on how you feel about the place).

If you're inclined to continue in the religious theme, stop at Chapel for drinks, decent bar food and its well decorated interior - a tasteful rather than gimmicky themed bar. It touts itself as attracting a 'discerning yet fun' clientele, so keep yourself entertained by trying to spot the socialites and other trendy types tottering around Ponsonby. More details on their site.

3. Sichuan in Remuera Restaurant
333 Remuera Rd, Remuera. Open 7 days, Yum Cha from 11.00am - 2.30pm.

If you've overdone it the night before, Yum Cha is perfectly timed for a hangover cure. You'll need to know what you want, because the trolley staff are fast, and it's best not to ask too many questions about the ingredients. Try the homestyle eggplant, spicy fried flat noodles, and steamed dumplings - both the scallop and prawn are particularly good. The egg custard tart is a nice sweet finish. They are also licensed, if you're ready for hair of the dog.

4. Rialto Cinemas, Newmarket
167-169 Broadway, Newmarket. Open the usual cinema hours.

NZ is generally supportive of your right to drink, and this place is no exception. In a country where you can buy your alcohol with your milk and bread in the supermarket, it should be no surprise that the primarily arthouse cinema allows you to take a glass of wine in to the screening. I can't vouch for all of the Rialto's, but the Newmarket cinema has damn comfortable chairs for you to curl up in while you get your flick fix. Good place to while away one of Auckland's rather numerous rainy days.

5. Urban Cafe
Corner Carlton Gore Rd & Kingdon St, Newmarket. Open 7 days.

Should you wish to berate John Key's for his Letterman appearance, apparently he and his entourage get their caffeine fix here occasionally. Urban uses the amazing Harney & Sons tea and offers both express and cooked to order items. More information, including the full menu and a revolving view of their clean industrial style interior are available on their site.

6. Rangitoto Island
Hauraki Gulf

If you're fit, or can rope someone into dragging you up the last incline, trekking up Rangitoto is a worthwhile venture. If you are into exercise it is a lovely achievement I'm sure, but for the rest of us the 360 degree views of, well, everything, are breathtaking (just like the climb). If nothing else, I can promise that you will feel grateful when you stop and sit down at the top. Rangitoto is also the site of some interesting social history - you can even see a 'bach', of John Key's top ten. More information on the island and how to get there here.

7. Flying fox at Little Rangitoto Park
Upland Rd, Remuera.


A far less extreme version of Rangitoto, with the added benefit of a flying fox. Sure, it's intended for kids, but if you bend your knees and lift your legs so they don't drag along the track there is still a significant amount of fun to be had here. The park itself is really pretty and best of all, it's free.

8. Chalin Tea House
340 Dominion Rd, Mt Eden. Open 7 days, from early afternoon to late.

Snack time. The stand out feature of this tea house is its overwhelming yellowness and the quaint request printed on all of the packaging: 'Please drink carefully to avoid choking on the toppings'. After that, there is also near-overwhelming choice on the menu and a large collection of manga comics and trashy magazines for you to browse if that's your thing. The caramel pearl tea is always a good choice, but if you're not up for tea try one of the puddings. If you like a little more kitsch with your bubble tea, head to Hulu Cat.

9. Salvage

If vintage textiles make you weak at the knees, you have to stop here. The shelves are stacked with fabrics, baskets overflow with trims of all kinds and there are entire drawers dedicated to buttons. Flick through the pattern box for inspiration, or have a chat to the lovely lady who owns the place. If you want to take in some pretty without spending any of your dollars, there is a great rambling garden that you can look down on to the left of the shop.

10. Eden Gardens
24 Omana Avenue (off Mountain Rd), Epsom. Open daily, 9am - 4pm (and a little later in Summer).

If the glimpse of the private garden on Mt Eden Rd isn't enough for you, head to the Eden Garden for 5 full acres of greenery and flowering goodness. Maintained by a team of volunteers, this garden started as an abandoned quarry on one of Auckland's volcanic cones. There are some sweet winding paths and little turn offs for you to stroll about, and a nice view from the top.


A silly piece of trivia for you: the pretty pink foliage of the Chinese Toon, above, is onion-flavoured and edible. Coming out of Spring the leaves turn from pink to cream to green.

11. The Fridge
507 New North Rd, Kingsland. Open every day, from about 8am - 4pm.

A deli-style cafe offering fresh and delicious food taking you from breakfast through to late lunch. An excellent choice if you're in a hurry, because they have an oven full of to-die-for, meal on the run pies.

12. Piha

If it's warm, join the rest of Auckland in a day trip to the coast. Piha is also worth a non-swimming visit in the cooler months just to walk across the glittering black sand and climb Lion Rock, or wander one of the other tracks from the beach. Goat Island Marine Reserve is also a good day trip, only a one hour drive from Auckland, and offers snorkling if you want to gander at the pretty fish. Just don't forget to be liberal with the sunscreen and seek out some shade. New Zealand might have a lot to offer but an intact ozone layer is not one of those things. You will crisp, I promise.

13. The Fishmonger
363 Parnell Rd, Parnell. Open 7 days, 10.30am - 9.00pm.

The only choice for food after a day at the beach is fish and chips, and The Fishmonger is one of Auckland's best. For a quick stop, head to Parnell and grab a stool at the bench for people-watching. Kumera chips with salt and pepper squid, a couple of scallops and a bottle of any of the Phoenix organic soft drinks will have you sorted.

Kitten-mother guilt and the perils of packing

Packing for a short holiday is difficult at the best of times. There is so much to manage and one rather small space/weight allowance to manage it in. You want to take enough in order to have choice and to avoid washing, but not so much that the suitcase busts open when you lug it off the airport conveyor belt at 3am. There are a variety of occasions to factor in - you want to be outfitted for everything from dinner with the grandparents to dancing and drinking though til 3am in an underground club. This is before weather considerations too. Try packing for New Zealand when the weather forecast advises everything bar snow.

Now add a mildly clingy not quite kitten (catten?) into the mix. Pulling down the suitcase from the top of the wardrobe yields a little skittishness. Opening the draws and removing items in bulk is met with more resistance.

Fairly sure that the logic here was 'if I get into the draw, then nothing can come out of the draw'. And what kind of callous person wants to disturb a sleepy feline? This kind - the kind that is due to make a flight in a limited number of hours.

Out of the drawer, my furry one.

Next tactic was for catten to get into the suitcase. Each item I packed was dragged out by her Royal Furriness, by the teeth, and taken under the bed to be clawed. Cue guilt. Obviously, being larger, I won the game in the end, but not before catten had clearly signalled that she knew that I was abandoning her for a week and thoroughly disapproved, and henceforth was withdrawing all affection.


Suggestions for packing include...

Try to remove pets before packing, otherwise you find yourself reminded of them all holiday (specifically - every morning, when you endeavour to find an article of clothing that isn't furry). Leaving your pet with clucky in-law types should be a satisfactory outcome for all parties///Don't listen to your partner when they suggest that you share a suitcase - they will only fill it with dirty laundry. Literally. It is my sad duty to confirm that, yes, all the pretty things that you packed will smell like feet///Roll things instead of folding them, you'll fit more in///If in doubt, pack it. You might not wear it, but you won't spend all holiday thinking 'if only I had brought (insert item here)'///Leave space for bringing home the lovely new acquisitions.

Imagine that - and if you can, take a holiday

You know that you need to take your annual leave (or maybe sick leave...?) when you start seeing Mighty Boosh characters in the discarded packaging on the floor of your office.

So the Polaroid-developing kinda kills the clarity and vivid colour of the plastic, but I swear to you that from my desk, it looked like Vince Noir's freakish creation, Charlie Bubblegum.

From this angle, you can even make out a vague head, with eyes and a beaky dried out bubblegum mouth, atop the mountainous slug-like body.

"Charlie is genius, right, he's made from a million old pieces of bubble gum. Imagine that."

Coffee: a love story

My love affair with coffee went suddenly cold today.

We have withstood many trials, coffee and I. Lectures from the moralising and recently decaffeinated, iron deficiencies, the realisation that at $4 each day for a year I was $1460 further away from my next escape. Upset stomachs and sleepless nights couldn't separate us. Wikipedia's entry on coffee that noted the discovery of rodent carcinogens in roasted coffee didn't put me off for more than a few hours. I always went back.

In the end, it was the barista that killed my buzz. After I had shared a happy moment with a latte today, I got up to leave the caffeine den. I paid at the counter, said thank you and good bye and the brooding barista turned around and mouthed across the machine, 'I love you'. Usually sarcastic, he seemed devastatingly sincere.

I love(d) coffee. He makes great coffee. (Apparently) he loves me. But, this inner-city girl doesn't worship at the temple of the barista. I'm in it for the caffeine.

T2, here I come.

A feat of daiquiri proportions

It's wonderous what a group of over-confident drunks can achieve.

Look Mum, no hands!

You too can achieve this kind of science with the right amount of daiquiris. This recipe is a mish-mash of suggestions from a range of cocktail lovers and what was available in the cupboard.

You will need...

Fruit of your choice (mangoes or strawberries are the classics)
Lemon or lime
White rum (Bacardi or similar)
Dark rum (Bundaberg or similar) and/or Cointreau
Ice, and heaps of it
Sugar syrup* (or, a cube or two of palm sugar dropped into the blender each round works nicely)
Bitters
A sturdy blender

*250g of sugar into 500ml of water, stir over heat until dissolved, let it cool.

The how to...

Wash and chop the tops off the strawberries. Best to do this all in one go at the beginning, particularly if the bartender plans to join in the drinking.

Half fill the blender with ice. Add two cups of fruit, the juice of half a lemon or lime and palm sugar or a splash of sugar syrup. For the alcohol, it should be one part dark rum or cointreau to two parts white rum. It's really up to you how strong you want it, as a guide, we used six to eight shots of alcohol per blenderful. Dash in some bitters and blend.

Serve and repeat. You'll know you've had enough when there is a visible sediment-like build up of strawberry seeds at the bottom of the glass. Or when you start tunelessly belting out Beatles songs, adjusting the lyrics where you see fit.

P.S. A couple of weeks ago, I put up a post about hangovers and suggested cures. Having now truly experienced this agony, identifiable by intermittent groans interspersed with 'I will never drink again - Ever', and listening to my flatmate reverse-daiquiri in the backyard for two hours, I can now personally vouch for the soft drink method. I'm not a soft drink person, but I highly recommend the lovely organic NZ brand, Phoenix. They make caffeine-free cola and a really delightful ginger beer.

P.P.S. Mutant strawberry.

On wire

Last weekend, when taking a wander around my neighbourhood, I came across a new take on the 'shoes on wire' phenomenon. Fruit and vegies. Strung up and slung over the wires.

First, a little apology for the poor quality of these images and the rambling tangent driven blog that follows (I'm a little distracted by the promise of daiquiris). The zoom on my camera wasn't really up to the task and I couldn't get very close to the wires. These grapes look almost furry at this level of zoom. Also a little sexual, in a mutant kind of way, although I don't think that has a whole lot to do with the zoom function.


That said, it seems very close is not such a good option. This bat - let's call him Adam - seems to have been lured in by the apple and made the rather unfortunate choice to spread himself out over two wires. He has been hanging upside down for over a week now and I am fairly sure it is safe to pronounce Adam an ex-bat.


I haven't quite come to grips with why people throw shoes over wires, let along fruit and vegies. Urban Dictionary and Urban Semiotic both suggest that it is an American street code for 'drugs available nearby' - this being why sometimes old sneakers strung up by their shoelaces get called 'crack tennies'. This vaguely gritty explanation seems to have gained traction of late as we're all turning wigger, getting our Baltimore on with HBO's latest offering, The Wire. Surely there's a Stuff White People Like blog coming on that?


Continuing in the urban vein, 'shoefiti' is said to mark gang turf or to commemorate the death of a gang member. The Harris Farm-like quantity and variety of fruit and vegies on offer on this street would amount to a massacre. It is also apparently a superstitious thing; hanging the shoes of a dead person should enable their spirits to walk higher and/or protect their previous dwelling from haunting. This seems to have some resonance in film - remember that scene in Tim Burton's Big Fish, when Ewan McGregor's character Edward Bloom visits the aptly-named town of Spectre, where everyone's shoes hang across the power line and they all dance around, distinctly barefoot and dead?


Wikipedia offers a range of less ominious/exciting theories around the why of shoe tossing include silly drunkards, mean school kids, a celebration of almost any rite of passage, military personnel marking the end of training or service and disposing of unwanted shoes. The internet was less helpful with theories for fruit and vegies on wires, although I suspect that one of the guys who works at the local cafe has it right - 'the Nike habit has become too expensive'. Or perhaps we can blame freegans gone rogue, coming up with such an oversupply of food from dumpster diving that they are now decorating our streets.

Last word about all things 'on wire'. If you've not seen the documentary about the thrilling and illegal tightrope walking adventures of Frenchman Phillipe Petit, Man on Wire yet, now is the time. At least, now is a good a time as any.

The 'Magic Garden' killer

Over the weekend, another potted herb plant passed away under my (apparently negligent) care.

My green thumb only seems to operate sporadically, at best. By seem freak of chance the mint is plentiful and the rosemary is thriving, the chives continue to shoot skyward and the cat grass is well attended by the kitten (what other marker of success could there be for cat grass?). Yet the basil (who up until death received as much attention as all the other plants, I'll have you know I spread my negligence equally) rather suddenly shrivelled up and died.

I'm yet to try to grow flowers, unless you count a brief love affair with the science experiment-cum-educational toy, 'Magic Garden,' as a child [For all of you who just squealed/wet yourselves with nostalgic delight, you can relive the cherry blossom glory. Magic Garden is still around! You can buy it on the internet, here, and I'm guessing also at any kid-oriented science store].

Magic Garden was the ultimate in kitsch for the nineties child . You mixed water with crystals and poured the liquid over a cardboard tree, and a couple of hours later the cardboard branches would 'flower' (some brightly coloured powdery substance that clung to the branches, apparently non-toxic) and you would have a miniature cherry tree. All together kids, in hushed and reverent tones: 'Science'. Simple, you would think. Not for this Godzilla. I went storming in with my fat kiddy fingers and prodded the thing, and all the flowers fell off and disintegrated.

But I digress. This latest lamentable loss - what will lasagna or homemade pesto be without basil! - makes me think that now is not the time to upgrade to flower growing. I'm not sure where this potted philosophy stems from, but I've always thought that responsibility is best taken on in stages. The logic goes something like this...if I can keep pot plants alive, then I can have a pet. If I haven't killed the kitten in the next decade, then I might be an okay human-mother too. Flowering plants seem the next step up from pot plants. Unfortunately I seem to have gotten a little ahead of myself, having adopted a kitten when I am still not sure how it is that I am doing in the herbs. Watch out, pussycat.

Fortunately, my neighbours seem rather more adept at the whole gardening bit so you and I can get our flower fix this Spring by taking a peek at other people's blooming success (with not a trace of bitterness or garden envy)...

An entire wall of orange flowers. Rather greedy really. They've probably taken up the entire allowance of flowers per postcode. Clearly the reason that my plants are dying.

A bit flirty really, a splash of colour peeking over the fence. I bet they are hiding all of their best blooms on the inside.

One in three.

Resolving the banana issue

As a small person, aged about 5 or so, I had a playground accident that left me with a serious aversion to eating bananas the normal way.

We had one of those play frames that had a slide, a swing and some other bits and pieces contained in it. I quite liked sitting backwards at the top of the slide, with my legs resting on the rungs of the ladder, gazing at the tall sky-scraping poplar trees that lined our back fence and contemplating the kind of things that five year olds do; were there enough spangles on my dance concert tutu? How did my Barbie dolls feel when I had finished playing with them and stuck them in a dark, airtight container? Did my neighbour notice that I wasn't actually listening to his battle strategies, but leafing discreetly through a nice Disney princess story instead? It was a nice place to chill.

One life-changing day, I sat in this happy place eating a banana and swinging my legs. The heels of my shoes were bouncing off the rungs. Swing-bounce, swing-bounce, swing-crash. My feet tangled in the rungs, and my body tipped forward until my forehead rather painfully connected with the bottom rung. Since then, bananas eaten the regular way bring back a disconcerting sense of concussion. I can eat them sliced on my breakfast, blended in a smoothie, mashed into baked goods, but just not whole.

A little embarrassed by not having grown out of this odd borderline phobia almost twenty years on, I hadn't shared this anecdote with my boyfriend, who buys a bunch of bananas every week. They start their life in our fruit bowl with a lovely waxy yellow skin. A couple of days later they are streaked brown and black. A few days on again, and the kitchen smells entirely of banana. Any longer and fruit flies start to swarm. This has been going on for a number of years now, we are in a constant state of banana oversupply. I usually catch them at the overripe stage and turn them into banana cake/bread/muffins, or freeze them for baking later.

This recipe for banana and walnut muffins started as Tess Kiros' recipe for banana bread; I have altered it to suit me.

You will need...

3 large bananas, mashed
2 eggs, beaten
100g butter
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1 cup plain flour
1 cup wholemeal flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 warm milk (soy or rice milk work quite nicely)
1/2 cup walnuts (you can use any nut you like, or chocolate if you prefer)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon maple syrup (optional)


The how-to...

1. If you keep eggs in the fridge, take them out - when baking it is best to use eggs at room temperature. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees. Grab a magazine and a lemon Calippo, put on a hat and go bask in the sun for a half hour.
2. Cream the butter and sugar together using an electric beater. Whilst still beating, slowly pour in the oil.
3. Add the mashed bananas, beaten eggs, vanilla extract and/or maple syrup to the butter mixture, and whisk.
4. Sift in the flour with the baking powder and a pinch of salt.
5. Warm the milk and stir into it the baking soda. Once combined, tip this into the main mixture. Add the walnuts and stir the mixture until just combined.
6. Spoon into muffin/friand tin and cook for about 12-15 minutes (if you are making large muffins you will need longer, probably 20-25 minutes). They should be crisp and golden brown on top, and a clean knife/skewer pushed into the centre of the muffins should come out clean.

Enjoy - they are particularly good with butter when they have just come out of the oven.

Banana crisis averted.

Hello, Spring!

Nothing says September 1 like the first blooms unfurling on stark branches in front of a clear blue sky.

'It's just another manic Monday'

Six o'clock already I was just in the middle of a dream

I was kissin' Valentino

By a crystal blue Italian stream

But I can't be late

'Cause then I guess I just won't get paid

These are the days

When you wish you were a kitten, hey?

It's just another manic Monday.

Manic, that is, for everyone but a certain Miss Molly. Whilst I grappled with the snooze function on my phone (a war I fight at least half a dozen times each morning), Molly dozed (like the happy contortionist that she is) on the end of the bed.

Molly knows nothing of The Bangles, but lives their dream - every one of her furry feline days is a Sunday, her fun-day.

Jealous much?

If this leaves you feeling a darker shade of green with respect to the leisurely lifestyle of the furry one who deigns to live with you, take a look at this genius comic.

'Garfield minus Garfield' will/might/should:

a. make you laugh at the prospect of erasing the smug felis catus from your life;

b. bring you to the realisation that without your smarmy yet lovable friend, the cartoon of your life would leave you looking (dare I say the word of the day? yes, yes, I do) - manic;

c. leave you mildly irritated about the fact that, everyday, people other than you and I have simple yet brilliant ideas, like this reinvented comic;

d. remind you that unlike Garfield, most cats are without the pleasures of foodstuffs like lasagne. Ha-ha. A win for the two-legged creatures; and, last but not least...

e. it is highly likely that it will make you feel superior that you have known about this amazing Garfield-less phenomenon for much longer than me. I only discovered it last night.

P.S. Molly wishes you all a Happy Monday, from her sun lounge.

The Hangover

Swigging cider seem like a fine idea on a Friday evening when you find yourself in a warehouse that seems to have been decorated by somebody's kitsch-hoarding, but oddly stylish, grandmother. The best of Motown and the 80s (and a strange collaboration between Norah Jones, Sesame Street's Elmo and the letter Y) plays on a dozen televisions around the space, garden gnomes with bare and voluptuous breasts leer at you, you find yourself sharing a floral armchair with three other people, and then a live band starts up on in a stage space so pink that even Barbie couldn't have dreamed it up. What's a girl to do but to take part in the delightful madness?

Somewhere between the delightful madness and being woken this morning at 8am by a friend keen for a yoga class, a troupe of devilish sprites must have crept in through my ear and had a roller disco inside my head. So this morning, I found myself thinking about all of the possible ways to undo the pain.

There are no pretty pictures on today's blog because, let's face it, there is nothing pretty about a hangover. Instead, I have pulled together a list of different strategies for coping. Obviously, none of these are good medical advice, rather the rantings of people, fictional or otherwise, who have found themselves in the foetal position more than once after a night out.

1. The traditional favourite of the masses: lots of water and a huge greasy fry-up, with extra grease. I'm told this may leave you feeling nauseous at the time, but it will be worth it.

2. My personal food cure: Toast any kind of bread you can get your shaking hands on. Butter liberally, swipe with vegemite. Pile on as much avocado as the toast can possibly hold. Squeeze on some lemon and a good grind of salt and pepper. This is a good one if your backing up for work, because it looks respectable enough to eat at your desk.

3. 'Fizzygoodmakesfeelnice'. Follow the lead of serial offender, Bernard Black, and guzzle down some fizzy good (a.k.a. Altza Seltzer) straight from the packet. Alternatively distract yourself from your own hangover with the comedy of his, here.

4. A little more hard core than Bernard? Is Withnail more your style? Do you find yourself saying things like 'I feel like a pig shat in my head', or knocking back lighter fluid when all of the drinkable alchohol is gone?. Then you will probably subscribe to the 'hair of the dog' theory. This only works if you plan to continue the bender - the new alcohol that you are taking in blocks your liver from breaking down the methanol in the alcohol that you drank last night; the break down of the methanol is what leaves you feeling so rubbish. Try a Bloody Mary for the vitamin content.

5. If you're a fan of the liquid cure but can't stomach the alcohol, the sugar and fizz in a bottle of Coca-Cola should kill the grouch in you.

6. For those bent on revenge, go the way of the voodoo. Haitian voodoo people apparently suggest sticking 13 black pins into the cork of the offending bottle to rid you of the pain. If nothing else, this should be mildly entertaining.

7. Late author, Amis Kingsley, has the last say. ' Immediately on waking, start telling yourself how lucky you are to be feeling so bloody awful. This recognises the truth that if you do not feel bloody awful after a hefty night, then you are still drunk and must sober up in a waking state before hangover dawns.'

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1101964/Distilled-Kingsley-The-late-great-author--prodigious-drinker--gives-advice-beating-hangover.html#ixzz0Osy201X4

A green glow...

Miss Molly the pussycat went to play
In a beautiful pea-green bag..

On shopping day, kitten rediscovers her favourite thing. The green bag. As the groceries are unpacked, she paws closer and closer, until the bag is empty and there is sufficient space for her to wriggle in.

I like to think that kitten loves the green bag because, at heart, she is a little furry eco-warrier. More likely, I suspect, she likes the pea-green colour and its function as her playground.

That said, I like my things to be beautiful and functional as well as environmentally friendly. So you can imagine how delighted this caffeine-fiend was to find this lovely item at the Young Blood markets on the weekend, at the closing of the Sydney Design Festival...


The Keep Cup is the first barista standard reusable coffee cup. Very sexy. All the pieces come in a variety of colours (polaroid tones don't do them any justice), so you can mix and match until you have one that suits you. Take a look at the website for more information about the design and concept, and if you're as taken as me, to buy one for yourself.

www.keepcup.com.au

Jam, with a side of nonsense

Having revisited Edward Lear's poem, 'The Owl and the Pussycat', I was inspired to buy a bag full of quinces on a recent shopping trip. Dining on quince seemed like quite a sweet thing to do...

"They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon."

Unfortunately, the only variety of quince that I have found in Australia is rather inedible raw - too hard and sour - so I use it to make jam.

I started out with a Tessa Kiros recipe (from her book 'Apples for Jam') and made a couple of changes. At mid-August, I believe we are at the end of the quince season, so snap to it if you're interested...

You will need...
3 cups caster sugar
4 quinces
2 apples
1 lemon
a splash of vanilla essence
jars (of any shape or size) to store the jam in

The how-to...

1. Rinse the quince, apples and lemon. The quince skin will probably be a little sticky, and covered in a grey-ish fuzz. Scrub this off.
2. Quarter the lemon, and then pop it into a large pot with the quince and apples (leave these whole for now). Tip in enough water to just cover everything and then heat it all on the stove top. You want to bring the water to boil, and then to let it all simmer for about 30 minutes. Then, turn off the heat and leave it all to soak overnight.
3. The next day, drain the fruit, and keep the liquid. Peel, core and dice the apples and quinces. Squeeze the quartered lemon , flesh and all, into the reserved liquid. Discard the lemon skin. Scoop out any seeds that have fallen into the liquid.
4. Put the diced fruit back into the pot. You need to add ten cups of liquid to this. Use the liquid that you reserved earlier, and then make the rest of the quantity up with water.
5. Add the sugar and a splash or two of vanilla - the vanilla adds a toffee taste to the jam - and turn on the heat. Stir until the sugar has dissolved, then bring to the boil. Cool to a simmer, and let it bubble gently for about two and a half hours (if you like your jam runny, a little less, and if you like it really thick, a little more).
6. Whilst the jam does its thing, you can prepare the jars. Pre heat your oven to around 200 degrees. Soak them in hot water to remove any labels, and then wash the jars and their lids in hot soapy water. Rinse the soap off and then put the jars and lids into the pre heated oven on baking paper-lined trays. Leave them there for about 20 - 30 minutes, or until they are thoroughly dry. This process sterilises the jars.
7. Back to the jam. The quince will have turned a lovely ruby-red colour. Once it is at your desired consistency, turn the heat off. If you like a smooth jam, blend or mash the fruit, otherwise you can leave it as is.
8. Let it cool a little, then spoon it into the warm jars. Put the lids on the jars, then turn them over to create a seal. Unopened, this should last in the cupboard for 10 - 12 months. Once you have opened it, you will need to keep it in the fridge.


It's quite nice to make this using lots of small jars, because then you can give them away to friends. With a ribbon tied around the lid, these make quite a pretty present.

Quince jam for me, quince jam for you, quince jam we shall eat. If you like nonsense with your jam, then you can read 'The Owl and the Pussycat' (and gander at the illustrations) here. Find someone to dance on the sand with and then get your quince on!

P.S. For the Sydney-siders...if you like homemade jam but don't have time to make your own, try Paul Simon's 'Jam packed'. You can buy it from him at 324 Cleveland St, Surry Hills, or Google the name for online grocers who stock his lovely preserves.

While the cat's away, the vegetables will play

Things that my vegetables did last Saturday night...

1. First, they started on the boutique beer.


2. A little tipsy, they started making faces at each other.


The lemon took things a little too far. Turns out lemons are angry drunks.



3. Then things really escalated.

The zucchini and capsicum got a little close (the lemon, pointy teeth and all, was left out). They manoeuvred themselves into some complex positions (aided and abetted by the Kiwi who has been hanging out on our couch for six weeks).



Said Kiwi calls this, in hushed and reverent tones, 'Science'.

After this series of misdemeanours, the vegetables have been condemned to be roasted and blended into a delicious wintery soup. Sentence will be passed down later this week...stay tuned.

Sweeten the deal

Come 4.30pm on a Sunday afternoon, I usually feel the onset of Monday-itis. The sun starts to set, the temperature drops, and I realise that I haven't washed my work clothes yet. Damn.

I imagine the reason that late Sunday is filled with the dread of impending Monday is that the days have struck a deal, whereby Monday takes over early from Sunday. It goes something like this, in my stress-scrambled brain... Sunday feels like she has had a damned long day - first looking out for the drunken revellers who partied on past Saturday's handover and then nursing the cursed souls through the worst of their collective hangover. Monday kind of fancies Sunday and, knowing that the early part of his shift will be quiet as the bulk of the population turns in early in preparation for the working week, offers to take over early in exchange for a date on a mutual day off.

Sunday and Monday come out of this deal warm and fuzzy, but us mere (Monday to Friday, 9 to 5) mortals don't fare so well. Which is why I propose to sweeten the deal with these here chocolate and walnut brownies. Pop a square of this in your bag for work and Monday won't seem so bad.

You will need...
150g butter
200g dark chocolate*
3 eggs, at room temperature
3/4 cup plain flour
1/2 cup cocoa powder
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 cup toasted walnuts, roughly chopped
100g milk chocolate, roughly chopped*

*real chocolate, not the cooking substitute. In Australia, the 'You'll love Coles' brand is surprisingly tasty and good value.

The how-to...
1. Preheat your oven to 180 degrees, and line a square tin with baking paper (this way, you can just lift the entire slab of brownie out once it is cooked).
2. Melt the butter and dark chocolate in a saucepan over low heat, stirring constantly. Set the mixture aside to cool a little.
3. Sift the flour and cocoa into a mixing bowl. Tip in the sugar. Beat the eggs, one at a time, in a separate bowl and add them to the flour mixture. Pour in the cooled chocolate mixture and mix everything until combined. Add the chopped walnuts and milk chocolate and stir through.
4. Scrape the mixture into the baking paper lined tin and smooth the surface with the back of a spoon. Pop it into the oven for about 30 - 35 minutes, or until set. Let it cool in the tin for about 10 minutes - this will give it time to firm up.

5. Cut it up - this recipe makes 16 neat squares - and put it onto a pretty plate. If your feeling friendly, leave it out someplace where your flatmates can find it.

You could make this with any other kind of nut - macadamias and hazelnuts go quite nicely with chocolate - or try adding a couple of shakes of chilli powder, or a splash of your favourite liqueur.

The filth wizard

Anyone who has spent any time in a sharehouse will know about the dilemma that is cleaning.

The first approach is pretending - or hoping - that the house is self-cleaning. This state of blissful ignorance usually lasts a week and ends with something that resembles Bernard Black's kitchen. 'Dirty'. Flatmates can be found eating food directly off the table with the cat litter scoop to avoid acknowledging the teetering pile of dishes in the sink.

You don't want to be the first person to crack, because that makes you the cleaning nazi. Inevitably, the first person who writes the scathing email and sticks up a roster is the baddie. Alternatively, you can be the martyr. Vacuuming around your flatmates as they watch television, scrubbing the toilet whilst they shower and collecting all of their stray items and hurling them at their bedroom door in the night (I actually know someone who did this) will all earn you this title.

This evening, however, I found a new solution. My flatmate's boyfriend. A genuinely cool guy who we all like to hang out with, he had a sudden case of guilt this evening about all the time he spends here and wanted to give back to the house. He started by re-arranging the glasses, cups and crockery according to size and frequency of use. I thought it was an odd place to start, but wasn't about to discourage the man.


The result is rather pleasing, and makes me want to embrace my inner cleaning nazi and ban my flatmates from using anything lest they ruin the display. A hostile post-it should suffice.

Moral of the story: there is an inner cleaning fairy just waiting to be coaxed out of your flatmate's boyfriend. All it needs is occasional kindness, a guilt trip and a pair of pretty pink dishwashing gloves.