A taste of Italy

Last week we went off to the House of Peroni…a sort of pop up exhibition, installation, bar and restaurant.  We ate in the restaurant and it was scrummy.  And it gave me the chance to take this picture of The Cat's Mother which I rather like very much

It's a British pastime to photograph your food evidently so I took this

But then I took one too many, and the look changed to this

In the foreground is my risotto nero which caused my tongue to do this

And then I enjoyed this

Their only real mistake was to try and add a splash of Peroni beer to dishes that din't ought to have it…but then you do have to keep the sponsors happy don't you?

Feck

I'm somewhat off Facebook...it does that odd thing of suddenly deciding for no clear reason that you're not interested in people that you've been commenting on their status for months, even years...and you don't even realise it until you bump into them in the real world and they say "Haven't seen you on Facebook recently". It seems incredibly manipulative, and in the age of Big Brother that should worry everyone.  The other thing that's bugging me is its friend suggestions.  We'll ignore the obvious ones for young attractive women that pop up, and worry about why it only seems to suggest the wives of my male friends.  Obviously this is a concern to The Cat's Mother, and equally I'd love to know what algorithm is doing this....And finally I seem to get an awful lot of the "You won't believe what happened when..." posts...end of that particular grumble

You may have seen the dynamic duo of Dave the Rave and Boris the abominable yeti came to the rescue of a woman who had collapsed yesterday last week (this post has been sitting around for sometime).  They were driving past and pulled over to help her.  Call me cynical, but how long did they debate how big a PR opportunity it was before the brakes were slammed on.  Or was the PR man in the car with them to make sure they did the right thing and grab that photo opportunity by the scruff of the neck.  You may not have realised it, but the General Election campaign has started.  Worryingly, the election itself is a year away (we know because the dates are now fixed ad infinitum, or do I mean ad nauseam?).  A whole year of politicians cuddling babies may make me toss my self off Beachy Head.

Last week The week before last I went to a fabulous fund raising evening for Amantani, a charity that helps poor children in Peru to go to school.  My motives were not entirely selfless, as the food for the evening was being supplied by Andina, and they create some of the most wonderful South American food you can imagine.  It was an evening of short films (I love short films) made by some of the children themselves around the theme of Meet my World...teaching us how to do some of the skills they have.  So now I can build a mud oven, dye cotton with vegetables, catch a fish with my naked hands...and so on.  Absolutely entrancing, and each film was accompanied by food appropriate to the film.  I was accompanied by our South American friends and a Czech with an American accent.  For a small charity, Amantani does remarkable work, and the cause is very worthwhile indeed.  Peru (like most countries) is full of prejudices, and these children are effectively excluded because they are peasants.  Educating them will make a difference, and hopefully in the long run a more equitable society.  The charity may be small, but it is well connected...there were a couple of Bransons there, and an auctioneer from Christies.  Anyway, do go to the web site, and follow the links...I suspect you too will be captivated by these children.

Another highlight was a visit to a gallery to see some work by street artist Pablo Delgado...he usually created pieces at ankle level which can be found by searching high and low in and around Shoreditch.  Mind you, I had to queue for an hour to get in.  Fortunately all the nice pieces had sold by then, so I can save my money a bit.

As I write this, The Boy (soon to be renamed) is whizzing across the continent as co-driver with one of his other ski instructor chums.  He will arrive home sometime in the middle of the night.  I'll be sitting up looking forward to seeing him.  He'll be back long enough to fill in the application for his Uni loan and his accommodation before heading off to the South West...I'm so glad he's having a great year.

Have I mentioned that I volunteered to marshall for the Tour de France?  It comes very close to home and I wanted to be involved, and I was hoping for a yellow jersey.  Turns out it's sponsored by Asda, so it'll be a green nylon jacket, and I'll probably be smacking my back pocket all day saying 'Every little counts'...or whatever their catchy little phrase is.  We've done online training, and evidently I'm not allowed to call anyone darling, sweetie, honey, gorgeous or luv.  And that's just the men.  Anyway face to face training on June 1st and then another session later in the month plus three days of actual volunteering....I will be nice. Really I will.