This book reminds me a lot of my Indian community, or should I say certain members of it. It’s written as a Pakistani lady would speak English and I can hear her voice; it’s very well done. I’m not sure whether someone who didn’t understand both Hindi and English would fully appreciate it though. Sometimes the way the narrator mixes English words up is a bit far-fetched but the ‘Indianisms’ are so good that they make up for it e.g. ‘I’m so depress, so depress that don’t even ask.’
A pleasant read which pokes fun at society ladies, superstitions and more. It touches on the dark side of living in Pakistan but is ultimately uplifting.
I used 2 whole bream, scaled and gutted with heads and fins removed and rubbed harissa inside the fish. The outside of the fish needs to be oiled before being wrapped them in foil, then baked in the small oven for about 30 mins (until the internal temp reached 45 ish), turning halfway through the cooking time, with the dial at 150C. Then rested in the foil for 10 mins.
Served with greek yoghurt with chopped mint stirred through it and cous cous containing fried off onions and garlic, petit pois, pea shoots, chopped up stoned olives (instead of salt) and drizzled with pomegranate molasses. One thing about couscous: it swells by about 3 times when it’s cooked, so best to stir through appropriate amounts of the other ingredients afterwards.
Went to see this programme at the Town Hall. It was simply wonderful. I’d never been to the Town Hall before so didn’t know what to expect from the acoustics but in fact the sound was wonderful and the venue was all the better for its intimacy. What David Le Page can do with his violin is astounding.
I just finished reading this on my Kindle. I’ve always liked the Carluccio cafes and shops. I’ve had some really good times at one of his London cafes, including a wonderful Valentine’s Day meal with Mark in February 2004 and most Christmasses I buy at least one of his pannetones.
I didn’t realise that he had led such a varied and at times tumultuous life. I’m very glad that he has ‘come out’ about his depression and all its manifestations, including self harm. The book highlights what a passionate and caring and yet fragile man he is. A very good read indeed.
Yesterday about about 3pm I crossed the road to post a couple of cards at the letterbox on Old Hawne Lane. A dirty white car (a Fiesta?) was coming towards me on Whittingham Road turned into Old Hawne Lane after I’d crossed it. While I was posting the cards, someone in the car, which at this point was behind me, literally growled ‘Get out the fuckin’ road, paki’. I heard what he said and instantaneously responded in the only way they’d understand: I showed the retreating car my middle finger. They’d only have seen it if they looked in the rearview mirror.
It was a shock. For a start, I’m not prepared for people to be shouting anything at me in the street; when I’m out and about I keep myself to myself and am not expecting others to do otherwise. Also, I had cleared the road by the time they turned into it so I didn’t get in their way. Even if I hadn’t, by the Highway Code it was my right of way.
Paki is a word full of racial hatred. I’ve heard people in the pub say it’s just a descriptive word, like Brit. Well, if think that you’re most likely white and you can’t understand what it’s like to be called a Paki because there is no white equivalent. It’s all about context of course, but the only context I’ve experienced is derogatory. It’s the only way I’m able to experience it when it’s lobbed at me because I’m not from Pakistan and, in spite of what people think, it has not been reclaimed in the way that ‘nigger’ has by some.
The reason why it’s so offensive to be called a Paki is that you are forced to realise that, to the kind of person who uses this language, and there are plenty of them around, it doesn’t matter that you were born in this country, educated in this country, have completely accepted this country’s culture, paid your taxes in this country and married into a family from this country. It doesn’t matter that your grandparents were INVITED to this country to WORK and that how they came to be here. What matters to this scum is only that you look like you’re from South Asia or the Middle East and it doesn’t really matter beyond that because apparently we’re ALL THE SAME.
Actually that has reminded me of a very funny, very clever monologue from Richard Herring’s Objective:
I unexpectedly ended up with a whole sea bass that was scaled, gutted and had the head, fins and tail removed. I decided to do it Moroccan style, after the success of the Jamie Oliver lamb shank & tomato tagine.
I marinaded the fish by rubbing the inside with ras al hanout and leaving it at room temp for half an hour. In the meantime I made the sauce to braise it in using onion, garlic, ground cumin, ground coriander and tinned tomatoes. It was very good.
I spotted this book at the library and thought I’d give it a go because I like Janet Street-Porter. The book is set out like a magazine: there is colourful print, different font sizes and there are photographs and illustrations on every spread. It reads like one of her Daily Mail rants except this is longer. So it’s not a heavy or lengthy read but it’s still quite good because she makes some valid points. I can’t say I learned much that is new but I am inspired to make some small changes in my life.
The best bit of the book is on the last couple of pages:
Milan Kundera wrote a novel entitled The Unbearable Lightness of Being. It was a reaction against Nietzsche’s theory that every event in the world will ‘eternally return’ i.e. happen again. Kundera says you’ve got one life to lead and nothing repeats itself. ‘Lightness’ means that decisions and events aren’t that important.
Lightness is also not accumulating too much stuff to worry about.
Too many possessions.
Too many handbags, cars, frocks, and potted plants.
In the end, friends are your most valued possessions. The state and bureaucracy are something to be kept in check and not allowed to dominate your precious time.
Lightness means removing these unnecessary weights from your shoulders.
I used 8 chicken thighs with excess skin (not covering any flesh) snipped off and coated in flour seasoned with salt and browned in oil in a large frying pan. Cooked at 150C for 1.5 hours. I used 4 anchovy fillets plus a little anchovy paste. It turned out quite salty, so think will use either 4 fillets OR the paste next time, otherwise it was very good.
I wanted to read this so I made a library reservation. But I was so far down the queue I thought I may as well use my Audible credit and listen to it instead. I’m so glad I did. This is an excellent audiobook with the narrator Tom Hollander bringing it to life perfectly. I’ve listened to audio samples of other books and some narrators have irritated me so much I’ve known I could never listen to the full version, however good the actual book is. But TH is fantastic. My only very mild criticism of him is that he doesn’t do a Brummie accent very well but that is just because my ears are more attuned to that kind of thing than other (non-Midlanders) would be.
So, the writing. The Casual Vacancy is a dark, menacing book, full of unpleasant people and shocking scenes. While I was listening I found myself dreading the next awful event; though compulsive, it’s not a happy read. JKR has written a wide range of characters with conviction. I was glad to have a character list printed out when I first started the book but as I progressed I got to know them and the list became redundant. The teenagers in particular are so realistic that it’s painful. They are so well observed that I was hurtled back to my teenage years. JKR has used the book to comment on modern society and I think she does it well, without slipping into preaching.
There has been a lot of criticism of this book in the press. I suppose there was bound to be after the huge success of Harry Potter. But in the end, the proof of the pudding is in the eating and I loved listening to this book.
