'Ten Thousand Memories': The Larders That Time Forgot

The Museum of Brands, Packaging and Advertising may sound like a somewhat niche excursion for marketing geeks (myself included).

But this curious little museum in Notting Hill has something for everyone. With over 10,000 products from bygone eras, it is an unashamedly nostalgic, cluttered and garish celebration of British eccentricity and culture - from Victorian royalist tat and wartime humour, to the brash jingles and supermarkets of the 1950s. It even charts the controversial evolution of Opal Fruits to Starburst, and Marathon to Snickers, from which the nation is still reeling.

The museum is the brainchild and personal collection of a self-confessed hoarder, Robert Opie. I'm told that the compulsive collector was eating a packet of Munchies on a train platform, and rather than throw the packet away, he decided to keep it as a souvenir of the time. The rest is, quite literally, history.

Tucked away in the cobbled Colville Mews next to the Temperley boutique (aptly painted as a Union Jack), the collection is built around a time tunnel; a vivid kaleidoscope of toys, groceries, posters, and fashion through the twentieth century and up to present day.

Each display is a time capsule, a window into the minutiae of life in a different decade. Walking through it, in chronological order, is to witness the gradual, relentless passage of time. Don't be fooled by the day-to-day subject matter: the packaging of our household favourites tells the story of two world wars, new discoveries, the Industrial Revolution, mass consumerism and the gradual emancipation of women.

In one hour, as you peer into the larders that time forgot, you will experience the journey our grandparents went on during the course of their lives - told through the changing contents of their cupboards.

After the austerity of World War I, for example, you begin to see the frivolity and prosperity return in the products that were being consumed. Shorter skirts, jazz records, miniature bottles of spirits, cars. As everyone tried to forget the horrors that had passed and the millions of boys who never returned, England had just got back onto its feet and was enjoying life once more - only - unthinkably - to be thrown back into War again in 1939. Suddenly, the larders once more look austere and rationed. You can imagine the disbelief that it could all be happening again.

With all this unrest, it is hardly surprising that the wartime generations looked back with rose-tinted glasses on the stable, patriotic naivety of Victorian era. The same generations might also be baffled to know why on earth we, in the 21st century, delight so much in Blitz Parties and wartime-themed speakeasies.

I begin to realise that nostalgia is all relative. It's funny to think that everything here, so quaint and vintage looking under our gaze, was once modern and cutting edge. I experience the sudden bolt of recognition as I enter the 1990s room, 'my' decade, and locate my place in history - and the depressing fact that my childhood memories are now retro.

My time capsule is characterised by Space Raiders crisps, dinosaur-shaped turkey nuggets, Spice Girls Easter Eggs and Captain Planet doughnuts (childhood obesity was clearly not a concern in those days...). These *ahem* super-healthy groceries all felt completely unremarkable at the time,  and we'd have laughed at the idea they'd end up in a museum. But here they are, tugging on my heartstrings, and I'm immediately catapulted back to 1996, when I'd beg my mum to put these in the trolley and spend all my pocket money on Spice Girls singles. I can't help but wonder whether people will one day look back on our iPhones, Instagram profiles, Starbucks cups and Miley Cyrus videos and think, 'Ah, how quaint - the good old days'.

Some items in the museum take on new meaning or uncomfortable irony, with the advantage of hindsight - for example a poignant 'Mork and Mindy' book featuring a young Robin Williams, the chilling 'Jim'll Fix It' merchandise from the 1970s, and a wartime board game entitled 'Listen In'. Ah, phone-hacking fun for the whole family! How lovely.

At other times during our trip down memory lane, it feels as though history is repeating itself. The patriotic souvenirs from the London 1948 Olympics and the Royal Wedding of Princess Elizabeth are remarkably similar to what was on sale during the summer of 2012, when we reveled in the optimism of the Olympics and the Jubilee. We LOVED all the tat, precisely because it harked back to what we imagine to be a simpler, happier time.

The visit must have been a baffling experience for my Californian companion, who hadn't grown up with these brands - but what better cultural induction to Britain than through the changing faces of Dairy Milk, Corn Flakes, Oxo Cubes and even the Queen? Seeing these ubiquitous items in their former lives is like seeing photos of your grandparents as teenagers. The outside wrappers of these national treasures may have evolved along with our rapidly changing society, but the products inside span generations and are omnipresent, constant reminders of our national identity.  Kind of like the Queen herself.

The Museum of Brands, Packaging and Advertising: 2 Colville Mews, Notting Hill, www.museumofbrands.com, entry £6.50 for adults

The Prodigal Escapist Returns

OK, I dropped the ball. Apparently, I needed escapism from my blog about escapism.

I'd love to say that the absence of blog posts has, in fact, been the ultimate tribute to my subject matter... an ironic and postmodern exploration of escapism, if you will. But while that does me more justice than I deserve, it's not too far off the mark (however unintentional). Quite simply, I've been busy escaping!

January is often maligned as a dreary, long month of scrimping, saving, dieting and generally dealing with the fairly horrifying return of the full working week. But in retrospect, mine was OK. Largely thanks to friends, food, prosecco and my Christmas presents of box sets and an electric heater, I'd even go as far as to say I rather enjoyed it.

Fig and goat's cheese tart at the Imperial, King's Road

With the exception of the 5:2 diet, which only requires willpower for around a third of the week, I haven't really stuck to many of my half-hearted new year's resolutions (which included 'blog more'). And you know what? I'm not even sorry!

Here's what I've been doing instead so far this year, thus evading the January blues:

1. Blasting away the last of the food-induced lethargy with a walk on Holkham beach in Norfolk

 

2. Discovering the joys of Game of Thrones, Girls and, um, What Happens in Sunny Beach

3. Revelling after work at the new Piano Smithfield bar - then (regrettably) pestering the pianist for not taking my requests. 'Hey Mr Pianist, I've asked you three times....'

4. Playing endless rounds of Would You Rather... with my housemate (marrying the delightful 'Nips' from Sunny Beach features in rather a lot of these unthinkable dilemmas)

5. Discovering QuizUp, a highly addictive app that allows you to challenge your friends in any subject under the sun: so far I'm faring particularly well at Harry Potter, internet slang and, surprisingly, general knowledge. I am performing less well in the fields of botany and flags of the world. Challenge me if you dare!

6. Gazing awestruck at the incredible images at the Wildlife Photographer of the Year competition at the Natural History Museum.

Image: Essence of Elephants, Greg du Toit, Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2014

7. Learning a lot about how to - and how not to - casually interrupt celebrities' conversations at the National Television Awards. Bridget Jones' classic 'Do you know.... where the toilets are?' is a fail-safe.

8. Listening to my friend's rather lovely Spotify playlist, What Love Feels Like, including John Legend, The Wannadies, Audrey Hepburn and lots more.

9. Beating my terrible habit of avoiding life admin:  Proud moment #1, we finally took down the Christmas tree on 26th January, and even prouder moment #2, put up curtains in my bedroom after eight months without them (sorry, neighbours - show's over).

10. Reading Philomena for Book Club. It's the heartbreaking true story of a troubled Irish boy whose mother was forced to give him up, and the eye-opening future that awaited him in his new life in America. So, so good. And not at all like an episode of Long Lost Family.

11. Using my new Taste Card to get 50% off at all manner of random restaurants. Then thinking, screw it, and blowing the budget with fabulous (and very much full-price) dinners at Foxlow and the Modern Pantry - both in Clerkenwell and come highly recommended!

12. And while we're on food, I must mention a recent Saturday brunch of sourdough, grilled halloumi and crushed avocado, and the most refreshing orange juice ever squeezed, at the Imperial in Chelsea  followed by an epic riverside walk past the fairy lit Albert Bridge. Let's just ignore the sore feet and thunderstorm that followed.

13. Catching up on awards-season movies. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty in particular is perfect for the 'new year, new me' mentality, although beware - it may make you want to sack it all in and go on an adventure.

14. Speaking of which, much of the month has been spent planning imaginary visits to friends in New York, Africa, Dubai, New Zealand, Spain and Paris (chances of me affording to go on all of these said holidays? Zero).

15.  Wearing my friends down until they join the Anthony Nolan bone marrow register - and joining it myself of course. Genuinely, this is the most worthwhile thing I've done so far - if you're 16-30, go for it! Simple way to do your bit and, maybe one day, save a life.

16. Saying 'I feel like 2014 is going to be a good year!' A lot. And meaning it.

Image: Pinterest.com

So that's one month filled, eleven to go. Not all very inspirational or virtuous I'm afraid, but we've survived it - January is DONE.

 

But wait, what? It isn't spring yet? (Sorry, the premature blossom in Holland Park isn't fooling anyone). We've still got months of no-man's land, that void between seasons, before the daffodils, chicks and Easter Eggs arrive to make everything better again.

But on the plus side, we've got a brand new calendar to populate and endless possibilities of how to do it. And fortunately, we have the best city in the world to keep us entertained.

 

Animal cafés are coming to London

Image: from daveandcharlotte.com

Sometimes, an idea comes along that is so obvious, so genius, that you kick yourself for not coming up with it first. I am talking, of course, of the Sausage Dog Café. Just to clarify, this is definitely not some trendy new London eatery where the menu only consists of sausage dogs and champagne. (Bubbledogs, anyone?)

Until now I never quite knew what was missing from a typical café experience - the coffee, ambience and baked goods may all be quite excellent, but what would make it so much better? Sausage dogs, of course; dozing, playing and roaming free around the room. Have you ever walked past a sausage dog and not smiled? Exactly.

The Sausage Dog Café, planned to open in Brixton once enough funds have been raised, is set to be a haven for any stressed-out dog lovers who can't have a pet of their own, with plans to have a knitting corner, opportunities to take the dogs out for a walk and all the tasty treats you’d expect (including sausage rolls).

Image: Sex and the City, An American Girl in Paris (HBO.com)

This follows hot on the heels of the news that London's very first cat café is officially on its way to Shoreditch, inspired by Japan's plethora of cat cafés. Just last week, Lady Dinah's Cat Emporium reached its fundraising target of £109,000 and the dream is to become reality.

The popularity of the urban animal café is the latest manifestation of a universal truth that any self-respecting animal lover already knows: pets = escapism.

Pets are the ultimate antidote to our first world problems, blessed as they are with a trusting nature and an appreciation for the simple life. The best we could manage post-university was to buy two little dwarf hamsters, the late Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy; we would play with the little fellas as soon as we got in from work and enter an almost meditative state as they ran over our hands on the spot, like a mini-treadmill.

Mr Bingley was kind of a big deal

Animals can also immediately put you at ease  - in the same house, we used to watch YouTube clips of baby penguins whenever we were freaked out after watching a horror film. After 30 seconds of watching the penguins falling over and waddling around, any fears about ghosts or serial killers would be long-forgotten.

Even academic types have started to cotton on, with one Canadian university offering a 'puppy room' where students can take a few minutes between exams to de-stress with the furry friends. (Boris, please note - every London office, department store and tube carriage should have one of these as standard).

London life does not however lend itself well to pets, largely due to 9 to 5 jobs, no garden space and Cruella de Ville landlords. But when life gets stressful, Londoners need cuddle time - perhaps more than most.

Animal cafés like Lady Dinah's and the Sausage Dog Café will therefore offer the ultimate convenience for the city's 'generation rent' culture - part time pets, whose poo we do not need to deal with, but who we can be assured are being well looked after by the owners.

It's also great news for London's dating landscape. Animal-based activities, such as London Zoo and Mudchute Farm, can function as perfect quirky first date venues, so expect the new wave of animal cafés to be full of nervous couples, filling awkward silences with 'Oh look, that cat looks like Harry Styles!' or similar.

The rise and rise of the animal café began in Tokyo, where there are reportedly over 200 dog, cat, rabbit, reptile and even goat cafés. However it always seemed unlikely something like this could get off the ground here in the UK, where food standards and animal rights are quite rightly paramount.

Image: from pethealthinfo.org.uk

But thanks to successful crowd-fundraising campaigns, the pet cafés are on their way. And, reassuringly, the pioneers of both Lady Dinah's Cat Emporium and the Sausage Dog Café insist that their resident pets will be most loved on this planet, with both establishments complying by strict Animal Care Standards and Health and Safety laws.

Where will this craze end? After a day from hell, will a quick post-work puppy cuddle replace the need for a large glass of wine? It's certainly healthier. And, as long as we all remember that a dog is for life, not just a nice accompaniment to coffee, I am very much on board.

Make mine a Labrador.

Ridin' Solo in London

"Being solitary is being alone well: being alone luxuriously immersed in doings of your own choice, aware of the fullness of your own presence rather than of the absence of others." - Alice Koller

I'm back from the blogging wilderness. There is no real reason for the radio silence; sometimes you just need to stop, switch off, escape and reflect.

As a natural chatterbox, it has taken me years to appreciate these fleeting moments of solitude; only recently have I started to realise how much I value time spent by myself. Years of playground politics have conditioned us to feel conspicuous and paranoid without the comforting presence of others.

But you can't be lonely if you like the person you're alone with. Start enjoying your own company and you realise that a little bit of time to yourself is actually one of life's great pleasures, especially in London. There are so many amazing sights and sounds you can routinely miss, amidst daily distractions of city crowds, phone calls, emails, chatter, headphones and crying babies in the flat upstairs.

As Marilyn Monroe once said, "I restore myself when I'm alone." And let's face it, she was no loser.

"Do you want that to eat-in?"

If your automatic reaction to this question is to scuttle away with your lunch and eat it at your desk, this blog post is for you, my friend.

Lots of us are happy as Larry to eat alone when we're abroad, serenely soaking up the atmosphere in a beach bar or continental square while we watch an unfamiliar world go by - but eating or drinking by yourself in London seems more unnatural.

But you know what? Right now, I'm drinking a Frappucino in Starbucks on Kensington High Street (by myself) and no-one is staring! I don't know why that should be surprising; I certainly don't stare at people drinking coffee by themselves or shout 'Billy no mates!' at them - and if I did, quite frankly, I'd be the one freaking people out, not the poor bloke just trying to enjoy his muffin.

I'm also enjoying indulging in some top notch people-watching. So far, I've witnessed an awkward first date between a born-again Buddhist and a French guy who arrived on a skateboard and I've overheard little gems like "George, stop spitting in my hair!" (That wasn't from the dating couple, thank goodness).

London is full of wonderful lunching spots best enjoyed alone. The ritual of a solo visit to a street food market like Kerb in King's Cross, or Exmouth Market, allows you to fully appreciate the food in its own right. You can indulgently browse each stall without anyone getting impatient while you flip a coin to decide between Moroccan meatballs or a Kimchi burger, before taking your little box to the nearest al-fresco spot for an indulgent picnic for one.

Not all who wander are lost

I'm a big fan of spontaneous, aimless wandering. A recent stroll with a friend took us to Holland Park for the first time, where we spotted the first cherry blossom of the year in the Japanese Garden and witnessed an alarming stand-off between a peacock and a squirrel. I made a mental note to go there by myself with a book or a notepad next time I just need to escape.

When you're exploring London solo, there's all the time in the world to appreciate the little things, watch buskers, pop into bookshops, stop when you see something cool and take 'arty' photos as you go along.

It doesn't really matter where;  just choose an area with a name that's intriguing or fun to say (I like Chalk Farm, Little Venice, Primrose Hill, West India Quays, Pudding Mill Lane, Eel Pie Island...), jump on the tube and then pop out like a rabbit emerging from a warren, finding yourself in the middle of a brand new place. By venturing out of my usual haunts, I've started to piece together my geographical knowledge of London and discovered lots of hidden gems to subsequently share with my friends.

And don't forget to take out your headphones - it can be quite a revelation. Suddenly, you're engaged in the world around you, listening to the ducks in the park and the random snippets of strangers' conversations, and you don't jump out of your skin if someone actually talks to you.

Cinema: the final frontier

So I've mastered eating and wandering alone, but the last taboo is the humble cinema. No-one can say how or why this is any less socially acceptable than watching a film at home - but somehow it just is.

I have not actually done it myself, but I'd say I've mastered worse (albeit not through choice): the theatre. I had agreed to watch the notoriously terrifying play 'Ghost Stories' with two friends, but their train broke down and, as I stood outside the theatre at 7:27pm, I had two options; sacrifice my £30 ticket, or go through the whole horrific two-hour ordeal by myself. I chose the latter. Thankfully, the middle-aged couple to my left didn't seem to mind me screaming into their shoulders. I was never quite the same after I emerged from that theatre - but I felt brave.

Clearly I'm not completely immune to the shame of the 'Billy No Mates' label. Even as I write this post, I feel compelled to assure you that I am a socially functioning person with plenty of friends (really!), and I love nothing more than to spend time in their company.

But having been busy and sociable all week, I woke up to a gloriously springlike Sunday afternoon and I have filled it doing exactly what I feel like doing. Writing, wandering, window shopping and drinking coffee. London is my very own oyster and just for today, I'm not sharing it.

New Year's resolutions for the girl with no willpower

‘To change one's life; Start immediately. Do it flamboyantly. No exceptions.' - William James

Our vaguely healthy Mediterranean feast, shortly after a trolley dash in Waitrose

I often regard with bewildered awe those few people who can fulfil a New Year's Resolution.

January itself is completely at odds with the goals we set ourselves - drink less, lose weight and save money. Why do we choose the gloomiest month of the year, when we're back at work and still drowning in leftover booze and party food, to punish ourselves with a virtuous nun-like regime? In fact, if ever there was a time to escape and just enjoy life, it's now.

New Year should be a positive and exciting time, an opportunity to start afresh and see the next 12 months open up in front of you like an unwritten book (sorry, getting a bit Natasha Bedingfield on you there...).

A nice young man I once dated had - and I quote - a “bar chart in his head”, which would help him visualise if he had neglected one of his personal self-improvement goals, which included foreign languages, the gym, reading, painting and nutrition. If he hadn’t spent enough time on one of these in any given week, he would make up for it in another of these areas. Impressive...

But I, on the other hand, can be relied upon to hit the snooze alarm four times per morning, to faceplant the office tub of Celebrations at 3pm and to jump in a taxi rather than trawl the streets looking for a night bus.

In some ways I am quite capable of fulfilling certain promises to myself – but only if they are in some way pleasurable and involve a split-second decision, so I can't talk myself out of it. Yeah, I’ll get a spontaneous new haircut or jump out of a plane. But drink eight glasses of water, every day, forever? Change that lightbulb and fix my door handle so that I don’t get locked in a dark room every time I close the door? Hmm… sure. Maybe next week.

The number 1 New Year's resolution in the UK is, surprise surprise, to lose weight. But like most other people, as soon as I consciously decide I’m going to go on a diet, I seem to have cursed it to the realms of my unfulfilled resolutions where it lazes around, happy as Larry, alongside other vague intentions such as ‘save money’ and ‘procrastinate less’.

In fact, the only times I have ever lost significant amounts of weight have been a by-product of another circumstance; a dog that needs walking, a helpful bout of tonsilitus or running out of money and living on soup for a couple of weeks.

I’m certainly not condoning any of the above (except dog-walking) as healthy or effective ways to keep off the pounds of course. But I’ve realised that the only way I’m going to fulfil my resolutions this year is to make them happen ‘by accident’, and by replacing bad habits with nice ones.

So instead of the generic and unoriginal task of ‘losing weight’, I've decided to go for something a bit more fun, which will hopefully have a similar end result - I will invent and experiment with salad recipes throughout January. This goal is positive, creative, achievable and realistic… rather like a SMART objective, in fact.

There’s no time like the present to get started, having now completed the obligatory 'Noodle Phase' that invariably follows Christmas (when I crave big, fresh, exotic flavours but still need to satisfy my poor stretched stomach, which is still wondering where all the potatoes went). Now, I am finally ready to move on from phad thai, and enter a brave new era: The Salad Phase.

Salads don’t have to mean rabbit food – they can be colourful, exciting, easy to throw together and surprisingly substantial. I’ve already started tricking myself that salads are treats, not chores.

Yes, it's a One Direction mug. 

Selecting a 'salad buddy' can help - the process of creating our masterpieces has become a bit of a bonding ritual between me and my friend at work. Some of our favourite lunches include:

• Feta + parma ham + roasted peppers + pomegranate seeds + herb salad (above)
• Blue cheese + walnuts + pears + watercress
• Mozzarella + leftover chicken + tomatoes + avocado + basil

All of the above would have a drizzling of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Maybe even a squeeze of fresh lemon (much to the mocking of our colleagues, who find it all a bit ridiculous. Perhaps the walnut chopping was a bit far). But even with these extravagances, it still usually works out as around £3 per person per lunch, for a massive plate of delicious food.

Yes, there’s a borderline obese elephant in the room. What is remotely healthy about a big plate of cheese and meat, drowned in an oily dressing and decorated with a few token leaves?

Well, I’m no nutritionist but if it’s colourful and fresh, it's bound to be healthier than something beige or shop-bought. And there's no point excluding everything that's filling or delicious or I'd be straight back on the Fudge bars. For me, being balanced, cutting down on carbs and eating fresh is the quickest way to start feeling good again.

And failing that, whoever liked a smug, skinny, sober calorie-counter anyway?!

My January salad recipes (so far)

Pea and pancetta winter salad

Just fry a handful of pancetta (healthy!) for a few minutes and then remove from the pan and place on kitchen roll to absorb the oil.

Then add two finely sliced shallots to the pan until transparent, and then add some defrosted peas and tip the pancetta back into the pan until everything's warm through.

Before serving, stir through some crumbled feta and mint leaves.

Balinese chicken salad

I picked this one up in Ubud, Bali, at a cookery course and have now recycled this recipe for many picnics and buffets. It might look like a long list of ingredients but it's mostly just chopping... lots of chopping. (See me in action below!).

200g chicken breasts
2 teaspoons of turmeric
1 tablespoon ground coriander
6 tablespoons light olive oil
4 shallots, peeled and finely sliced
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely sliced
Half a teaspoon of fish sauce (naam pla)
Juice of one lime
Inner white part of a stem of lemongrass finely chopped
Finely sliced hot red chillies to taste
Iceberg lettuce (to wrap it in)

Place the chicken between two sheets of cling film and pound flat with a rolling pin. Combine the turmeric, coriander, salt and pepper and three tablespoons of the oil and coat the chicken. Marinate for 1 hour and then grill the chicken and leave to cool.

Combine the remaining oil and ingredients to make the salad mixture/dressing. When the chicken is cool, shred it with a fork and then toss it together with the salad mixture in a big bowl. I like to serve it garnished with fresh coriander, chilli and lime wedges, alongside big iceberg lettuce leaves for DIY wrapping purposes.

Tastes even better the next day!

Random Indian salad

Warm a tablespoon of mango chutney and a generous pinch of ground cumin (or crushed toasted cumin seeds if you can be bothered) with a few glugs of light olive oil in a pan. Add some prawns until they're hot and a bit golden, and then remove from the heat.

In the meantime, chop and combine the following ingredients:

Mango
Fresh coriander and mint
Spinach leaves
Cherry tomatoes
Chilli
Carrot
Cucumber
(or whatever else you've got lying around).

Then tip the contents of the pan (including the mango-ey oil) onto the salad mixture and stir it all around. Then just crumble a poppadom on top if you fancy, to add texture.

City vs Country: Which is more Christmassy?

SantaCon 2012. Photo: Luke MacGregor, explat.wordpress.com

At the best of times, I can’t make up my mind as to whether I'm a city or a country girl at heart. But at Christmas, this is like Sophie's Choice; how could I ever choose between hot chocolate and champagne? A Boxing Day bender or a brisk seaside walk?

Minor though these dilemmas might seem, I can't help but wonder which is the definitive Christmas experience - the city or the countryside?

City Christmas

London was made for Christmas, proudly throwing on its festive lights like a dazzling party dress, as mulled wine stalls and ice skating rinks pop up in abundance next to every historical landmark.

Somerset House. Photo: Henrietta Rosselli

It’s impossible for even the most cynical of Londoners not to start feeling Christmassy a few weeks before the rest of the world. Even way back in November, a stroll down the South Bank was like being slapped in the face by Santa with a stockingful of glitter.

Having been listening to Christmas songs pretty much exclusively since the 1st December, I had thought I had reached optimum levels of Christmas spirit. But then this weekend, I took it to another level entirely...

On Saturday, we joined an army of santas (santae?) to take part in SantaCon - part flashmob, part bar crawl, part demonstration.

Is it a political statement, asked curious passers-by? Is it for charity? Is it some kind of religious gathering? Even Stephen Fry was confused on Twitter: "Never in my life seen so many people dressed as Santa. It’s currently like a Father Christmas convention in Soho. Was Santaday declared?" he asked. What on earth was it in aid of? The answer is nonsensically simple: Christmas!

For one day, in 276 cities ranging from Dubai to New York, millions of people dress as Santa and run amok - for no reason, other than it's Christmas. With just the right balance of naughtiness and niceties, we surrendered to the mob mentality to join in with gift giving, carol singing, amaretto swilling, sprout pelting, hugging strangers and general Santa banter.

SantaCon 2012. Photo: Luke MacGregor, explat.wordpress.com

SantaCon culminated in a final gathering point at Trafalgar Square, resembling a scene from Where's Wally (above). There were Mexican santas, cowboy santas, pimp santas, scantily clad santas, lost santas, several elves and the odd turkey. But for the most part it was a sea of traditional red and white bearded santas, clambering around on Nelson's Column and the monumental lions, chanting "What do we want? Christmas! When do we want it? NOW!"

The following day, one might have predicted that a brutal hangover would be inevitable. But lo, a Christmas miracle! I awoke feeling fresh as a blanket of recently fallen snow (ish).

I even felt well enough to spend Sunday evening watching The Goonies at the Enchanted Pictures in the cavernous Old Vic Tunnels – an atmospheric subterranean venue complete with fairy lights, log seats, a home-made alpine forest and volcanic lake, and a gorgeous surprise sprinkling of fake snow falling from the ceiling at the end of the film. And the greatest gift of all? We saw Matt Cardle. Yeah. You don't get that in the countryside...

Country Christmas

If you can't already tell, I really like London. And I really like Christmas... But combine these two famously expensive phenomena and there's a slight problem - my bank balance.

So, in what should be the biggest week for partying in the year, I and many others have reached a pre-payday lull - living on stale bread and water so that I can still get people presents and buy the odd glass of hot buttered rum.

The country girl’s answer is to make your own edible gifts - the smell of Mum’s vat of bubbling zesty chutney on the hob is pure Christmas. And therein this fragrant memory lies the answer to the question of where is most Christmassy. Christmas means home and family traditions. For many, that is synonymous with the city. But for me, home is a Vicar of Dibley-esque village in rural East Anglia.

Worlington, Suffolk

In our family, Christmas is picking the (real) tree from the farm shop, it’s the village carol service, it’s being demoted to the ‘kids table’ every year, it’s chilly Boxing Day dog walks, it's having to ask Mum for lifts back and forth to the pub, and braving the cold to collect as many damp logs as you can carry over from the garden shed without dropping them all over the carpet.

I got a headstart on my cosy country Christmas this year, having been on a girly weekend to the Peak District. Our quaint little rented farmhouse, Loscoe Farm, with its wood burning stove and rustic beams, also benefited from a pimping hot tub, sauna and pool table, and a paddock with a ‘bring your own pony’ policy (ah, the simple life). It was the countryside, but not quite as I knew it.

We briefly left the farm to visit Chatsworth House - aka Pemberley

This gave us the perfect setting for a big Alternative Christmas dinner. Admittedly it was a bit ‘Kerry's gone to Iceland’; to the horror of mothers everywhere, we sacked off cooking a turkey in favour of chucking some sausages and all the (frozen) trimmings into an oven - but that seemed apt, given it was a University reunion.

After a magical long weekend, we felt like the ladies of the manor and were sad to leave our winter country retreat. Surely if we all pitched in, we could just keep the farmhouse and start our own girly Christmas commune... please?

The winner

London offers a full-throttle Christmas experience to the masses. However if the city isn't your natural habitat, you may just find yourself frazzled, broke and lamenting the total lack of taxis on the last Saturday night before Christmas.

Likewise, loyal city-dwellers who think it will be novel to escape to the countryside for Christmas usually look about as comfortable on their country walks as a bedraggled cat in the bath, and are likely to return to London feeling weatherbeaten, confused and probably with a few fire-related injuries.

The 'real' Christmas - as opposed to the mythical Christmas of John Lewis adverts and Love Actually - is about everything that's cosy, warm and familiar to you - whatever and wherever that may be. So as much as I've loved squeezing every second of festive fun out of London these past few weeks, there's only one place I want to be on the Day - home sweet home.

The Faulty Towers Dining Experience

There are many dining experiences in London that seem to take gleeful pleasure in providing bad service, but The 'Faulty' Towers Dining Experience (the clue is in the name) is surely the most fun.

I took my friend on a surprise mate date here for her birthday last Sunday. I think she may have been expecting a girly afternoon tea or cocktails, so it's fair to say she was rather taken aback on entering the bar at the Charing Cross Hotel only to be accosted by a flustered, exasperated Basil Fawlty, suspiciously asking us if we were "together".

In this manic, loosely scripted tribute to the TV series, we - the diners - became characters in an episode of the chaotic 1970s sitcom Fawlty Towers.

Our waiters for the evening were none other than the lovably grumpy Basil Fawlty, his nagging wife Sybil and the feckless but endearing Spaniard, Manuel. I think Polly must have had the night off.

The actors stayed in character all evening, and only a small proportion of the night was scripted so there was a brilliant element of reckless spontaneity to the proceedings as the Fawlty Towers staff mingled (and argued) with nearly everyone in the room. In between courses, the staff seamlessly incorporated new and classic scenes from the show, including the fire drill, the escaped rat and of course, the immortal lines "Don't mention the War!" and "I know nothing!"

Just like the sitcom, this is slapstick, physical comedy. The tall and gangling Basil clambered around under my seat looking for Manuel's 'pet rat', shortly after Manuel helpfully tucked my napkin into my top - leading my friend to observe I'd been sort of groped by both Basil and Manuel in the course of the evening (score!).

You'll need a very British sense of self-deprecating irony to appreciate that, at the Faulty Towers Dining Experience, you're willingly paying for deliberately awful service and bland retro food (when they ran out of soup, Sybil kindly informed us that she would "ask Chef to open another tin").

You should, for example, prepare to be treated with exasperated disdain before you've even sat down at your table. Thankfully, no-one seemed to be genuinely insulted when publicly asked, "Did you forget your medication, dear?" and told to "Tuck your shirt in!", before being applauded by the entire room.

This could quite easily have been a total cringe-fest, as of course its success entirely depends on the ability of the cast to involve - but never humiliate - their guests, and to loyally impersonate the much-loved original characters.

However you'll be pleased to know that Basil, Manuel and Sybil completely nailed their uncannily accurate performances, and clearly share a fondness for the show; nearly three hours later, their masks still hadn't slipped. It was only once we were leaving the hotel and encountered 'Basil' on his way home, we realised he was in fact a friendly, chilled-out Australian in his late 20s (who had lost his voice from all the shouting).

Just like a cosy Sunday night watching old repeats of the sitcom, our evening at the Faulty Towers Dining Experience was nostalgic, comforting, raucously funny and quintessentially English. Next time, I'm bringing my mum.

The Faulty Towers Dining Experience now has an open-ended residency at the Charing Cross Hotel. Tickets range from £43.50 to £49.50.

Hello Autumn!

Kew Gardens, from mummyplum.blogspot.com

Until now, I would have described myself as one of life’s self-confessed sun worshippers - I live for sunny days and balmy evenings.

But this year, after an even more elusive British summer than usual, I feel strangely excited about everything that Autumn 2012 will bring. At least I know what to expect; fresh foggy mornings walking through Hyde Park on my way to work, the smell of pine cones and conkers and the sparkly, dewy grass.

Already, change is in the air - the breeze feels fresher, the colours deeper - as though we are on the cusp of a very different London. And far from being bleak, there’s actually rather a lot to look forward to...

1.  Apple Day
We've all heard of Halloween, Thanksgiving, Bonfire Night and Diwali. But there's a new kid on the block, a lesser-known festival, dedicated to the humble fruits of Autumn - yes, its Apple Day (21 October). Apple festivals in London tend to vary in terms of their dates, but the main ones seem to be at the National Trust's Red House on 14 October and the Camley Street Natural Park on 7 October, which features live acoustic music, cider tasting and, of course, London's finest apples.

2.  A new ‘back to school’ wardrobe
Is your wardrobe ready for Autumn? Mine certainly isn't - apparently summer dresses worn with tights and ballet pumps just won’t cut it once October hits. Finding my shiny new uniform of a ladylike coat, wear-forever boots and the holy grail of a cosy-but-flattering jumper requires an exciting, back-to-school shopping excursion. Autumn doesn't have to mean dowdy - the shops are currently bursting with gorgeous brocade fabrics, rich wine colours, equestrian shapes and lots of black lace and leather. Once you're kitted out for the season ahead, it will leave you with all the satisfaction of arriving at school armed with the coolest Woolworths stationary. The trick is to buy your essentials now before the cold really kicks in and all the good stuff's gone!

3.  Autumn picnics in Richmond Park or Kew Gardens
There’s something quite romantic about an off-season picnic on a crisp autumnal day in a deserted London park. Choose somewhere surrounded by majestic golden trees, such as Richmond Park or Kew Gardens, where you can snuggle up in plenty of blankets and nestle amongst the crunchy leaves. Bring some home-made pumpkin soup or pie, and a flask of hot spiced cider. And may I recommend you head to a bar afterwards to warm up.

4.  Halloween parties
What better night to venture into London's underworld than on Halloween? (And by that I mean the hedonistic, glamorous pretend underworld - I'm not suggesting you seek out London's charming hidden crack dens). Last Halloween, we indulged our inner goths, donned corsets and chokers and headed to the Belle Epoque Party. But with this being The Year of 50 Shades, I wouldn't be surprised if we see a plethora of fetish nights in the capital using Halloween to capitalise on people's sudden desire to shed their inhibitions and explore their freaky side... 

Belle Epoque Party, from visitlondon.com

5.  Bonfire night in Lewes
If you are yet to experience the bonkers, raucous, riotous Bonfire Night street party in Lewes (apparently the biggest in the country), get it in your diary now. But don't expect hot chocolate and lacklustre fireworks in family-friendly parks; this is not for the faint-hearted. There's a sense of joyous anarchy as more than 60,000 people throng into the Saxon streets of Lewes, chucking firecrackers at alarmingly close proximity and watching the processions of Romans, warriors, pagans, burning effigies and everything in between. Expect lots of fire, lots of alcohol and lots of people. What could go wrong?

Lewes Bonfire Night 2010, before it all got very messy

6.  The return of good TV
If you're exhausted after all that partying, you're in luck... After the wasteland that is summer television, all the good TV is returning this Autumn (some might argue I play it fast and loose with the term 'good TV'). New seasons of Homeland, Dexter and Made in Chelsea - nearly everything I watch - will all be back to warm those after-work nights, along with the relentless, three month, love-to-hate marathon that is The X Factor. True, this series has got off to a dreadful start but I'm hoping things improve in time for the ritual of having people over for dinner and 'live show' viewings.

7.  Seasonal cooking - not just pumpkins!
Autumn might just be the best season for foodies. Hit up your nearest farmer's market and make the most of the perfectly ripe butternut squash, blackberries, pears, sweet potatoes, figs and walnuts. I'll be making my favourite comfort food recipes, such as blackberry crisp with a fudgey flapjack style topping; Cajun spiced butternut squash and sweetcorn salad; pear, walnut and fig salad with blue cheese; and chilli con carne with baked sweet potatoes. 

Blackberry crisp, from bbcgoodfood.com

At this time of year, I will also allow myself to buy caramelised chestnuts from a street vendor on a cold night. You know you're tempted every time the breeze blows that sweet, nutty warmth in your direction - now its Autumn you have every reason to stop and buy some.

8.  Atmospheric historical London
Ye Olde London’s attractions become more atmospheric, and less crowded, at this time of the year. I hope to finally get round to a candlelit tour of the John Soane's Museum, a misty ghost walk through the old city, and a wander round the overgrown Highgate Cemetery - three things I've wanted to do since I moved here. (Sounds a bit morbid as a collection of activities, now I think about it!).

9.  Rugby matches in cosy pubs
Huzzah! The rugby season is here. I can't pretend to be an expert on the finer rules of the game, but I appreciate a rugged rugby player as much as the next red-blooded woman, and after an amazing season of sport in London, the prospect of joining patriotic fans in merry pubs on a cold afternoon is rather appealing.

Ben Foden, mailonline.co.uk

10.  A last minute Autumn getaway
Summer is but a distant memory and it's ages til the holidays, so this is the perfect time to book an impromptu long weekend away. Last year, a friend and I flew to Kaiserslautern, a somewhat unlikely holiday destination in Germany which, as it turns out, was quite the place to party, populated with students, footballers and Americans. We took our chances on the frankly terrifying autobahn, discovering that rural Germany is simply stunning in the Autumn, with golden fields and Hansel & Gretel villages dotted along the Rhine. There are also plenty of beerfests, Reisling wineries and stodgy foods to warm your cockles. 

Frolicking in the leaves near Kaiserslautern, Germany

Finally...
One thing I will not be doing is using the C-word (the other one!). The C-markets, the switching on of the C-lights and pre-C sales are all rather exciting but have somehow seeped into my consciousness over a month before we've even reached Halloween - plain wrong. It's far too soon to even menton C. So I won't.

Grease was the word, Barnes was the place

The cut-throat world of the American high school is something of a second home for the ladies of my generation, having grown up on Saved by the Bell, Clueless and Mean Girls. But for most of us, our initiation into the world of Californian jocks and cheerleaders began in our formative years, with the one and only Grease.

There was therefore something very familiar about Future Cinema’s spectacular and interactive outdoor screening of the classic musical, which saw Barnes Common being completely transformed into the iconic Rydell High for the weekend.

From TNTmagazine.com

The greasy scent of burgers, candy floss, hairspray and motor oil was in the air, as nine thousand fans formed a sea of black leather and pink satin at this all-singing, all-dancing festival of nostalgia, organised by the team behind the acclaimed 'Secret Cinema'.

No detail went unnoticed and no expense was spared in the meticulous re-creation of Greaseland. It was all here; the vintage cars, Frenchy’s pyjama party, the school hall dance-off, Frosty’s Place Diner and even a Ferris wheel from which to gleefully shout, ‘I’m not pregnant!’

We were completely immersed in this alternate universe from the moment we walked in and were greeted by an all-American football coach: “Welcome back to Rydell girls, have a good year!”

We were then accosted by the excitable Pattie herself: “Oh my god I LOVE the first day of school, don’t you? Are you coming to cheerleader try outs? Can you spell Caribbean? Oh my god, you CAN? You HAVE to join the spelling team!”

By the time we’d grabbed a quick mac’n’cheese and some popcorn, and been on the receiving end of some killer lines that Danny Zuko himself would have been proud of (“Hey beautiful, I got something else you can put in your mouth...”), I could almost have believed I was genuinely a teenager at a 1950s pep rally.

After a couple of hours soaking up the school spirit, the summer day had drifted away and turned into a very autumnal night - I had chills, and they were multiplying.

Fortunuately, once the film started, we were up on our feet so often that we warmed up in no time. During key musical numbers, Future Cinema's team of actors burst onto the stage in front of the screen and taught the whole audience the moves (I'm proud to say I can now add the Hand Jive to my repertoire).

When the credits rolled, and the excitable crowd of T-Birds and Pink Ladies poured back out into the streets of suburban West London singing 'We Go Together', I felt totally uplifted, nostalgic and, well, young.

Despite appearances, there are unlikely parallels between my experience of a bog-standard Suffolk upper school and the glossier, more glamourous world of '50s Rydell High. Yes, in Hollywood, the kids all look like they’re in their 30s, people randomly burst into song and the school buses are distinctly yellower - but the cliques and geeks, the sadistic sports coaches, the sleepovers, the style faux pas, the crushes, and the unwritten rules of who sits where at lunch, are universal.

I've seen Grease countless times, but never got so much enjoyment from it as I did on that chilly night in Barnes. I can't wait to see what Future Cinema brings to life next.