Plat du Jour

As the first weekend of my time here in Brussels draws to a close, through the white noise of change and constant novelty, normality is slowly approaching. I am on the platform of adventure, awaiting the steam train of stability. (Yep, three glasses of wine so far..)

I’ve moved in to my house, and my house-mates are all fine. Two girls, Angela from Blackpool and Martha from Warsaw, and an Austrian lad, Gernot, from Vienna. We all get on really well. There are plans to cook together at least on the weekend, which will be fun – and hopefully I’ll learn something in the process!

Cooking is one of those things which brings that level of normality to my experience here. You might, I don’t know, be one of those people who takes a certain delight in all the forward planning, time management and generally practical and hands-on nature of cooking. I normally take a rather more defeatist attitude, I’m afraid. I’ll look at a recipe and spot the one obscure-sounding ingredient (Like Oregano…to me that sounds like a Spanish resort, viz: “EasyJet Spring Breaks – Liverpool to Oregano only £29.99 one-way!”). Then I join the “Don’t Have It, Can’t Make It” school of straight-jacket thought and reach for the frozen pizzas.

Tonight, howver, I surprised myself with my boldness in the kitchen. I’d bought some chicken, and I was going to do the usual thing, where I just fry the chicken and throw in a load of curry sauce (“They don’t do curry sauce. It’s a no-go on the curry sauce…”) to have with it. I think it’s probably my general feeling of carpe diem that I’ve had since I arrived that made me venture out and try something new. So I opened Delia (so to speak) and had a go at a recipe called something like Poulet Basque. So there’s me, in our tiny kitchen, chopped veg and knives and pans everywhere. Gernot, meanwhile, is standing in the doorway offering words of encouragement, as I’m stirring a colourful frying pan that’s in serious danger of overflowing. Snatches of conversation echo from the kitchen amid the hiss of steam, the “thlunk” of chopping knife on breadboard and the occasional swear word (“Pardon my French”, doesn’t really work when you’re swearing in French), as my cauldron spits hot oil onto my hands, like an angry cat.

In the event, despite my being slightly too generous with the pepper, my meal was a success. Gernot tried some, and said it was very good, and Angela (who has said she’ll teach me cooking) tried some, and said it was a nice surprise from “someone who claims they can’t cook”.

It’s all about seizing the opportunities and going out of the comfort zone; something which I think I’ll be getting increasingly used to as time goes on…

iCame…iSaw…iConquered

Heard about Apple’s new iPhone? Hard to avoid it, really. How about the man behind it (and chief executive of Apple), Mr Steve Jobs?

If you don’t know anything about him, it certainly seems like certain newspapers are trying their best to make sure people know what a great person he is.

In the Guardian a few weeks ago I saw an article about him, and here are just a few of the phrases the author used:

“Yet it’s an amazing experience to take part in a briefing with Steve.”

(So a meeting with Mr Jobs is up there with Skydiving and tripping on Acid, then.)

“…customers’ reverence for him usually overwhelms any hostility”

(Replace “customers” with “followers” and hey, it could be Jesus.)

“When Steve enters a room, everything stops and attention turns to him.”

(What, does he walk in without a head? Hideously deformed? Also, note that everything stops, apparently. Time itself, it seems, cannot continue without his permission.)

“When he walks in you get the feeling that he has sucked all the other thoughts out of the room.”

(That’s not really a good thing, though, is it? I mean, what use is a board meeting with a group of human vegetables, no longer capable of original thought?)

I mean, fair enough, he’s made Mac a cool brand to own (though from my experience a Mac is a bit like having a shiny silver toothbrush with no bristles…) and, of course, I’m sure the Korubo tribe of the Amazon own iPods by now…but all this emotive talk is a bit too flattering for just one person.

Happy to Help

At some point I’m going to have to do it. I can’t put it off for much longer. Everyone else is involved and I’ll get dragged along with the crowd sooner or later…

Christmas shopping.

Someone with superior organisational skills than my own would have saved all the hassle of actually going into real shops by harnessing the power of IT now that all our computers are so nicely joined up in the Digital Daisy Chain. Thanks to Amazon, eBay and so on, it’s easy. “Click and It Shall be Given Unto You”.
I have, however, left it too late yet again, so this means I’m going to have to go shopping. I really, really don’t like shopping.

I seem to attract the generally suspicious type of shop assistant, one that won’t leave me alone until I’ve either made a purchase or left the shop.

It is in shops selling expensive goods, like mobile phones, designer clothes or watches, that I tend to attract suspicion. I admit that it might have something to do with the fact that I’m a bit scruffy, and given the festive panic I will probably enter the shop quietly muttering dark sentiments that wouldn’t look out of place in a Dickens novel.
I enter the shop and Carol, or Tracy, will fix me with A Look. These people are in customer service, although it seems that “the customer is always right” could do with a footnote: “and remember, only human like you.”
A split-second judgement is all it takes. Of course I’m going to steal something, I’ve got two days’ worth of stubble. Goodbye Scotland Yard, hello H Samuel Hit Squad. I am followed over every square inch, pestered with pointless questions such as “What sort of style did you have in mind?” Heck, if I could answer that one, I’d be in and out of here like a shot. I don’t have a clue, and which is precisely why I’m wandering around aimlessly.
I try as politely as possible to hint that making a decision is that little bit more difficult when you can hear the “assistant” breathing through her nose. Coming from two feet away, Carol’s perfume makes my eyes water. Pick anything up for inspection, and the free audio commentary begins: “Those chocolates are twenty pounds. The gold box above you is a bit more, it’s ninety-nine ninety-nine.” Thanks for that. I’d have thought the absence of white stick and dog would be enough to reveal that I’m not, in fact, blind.

Eventually the pressure gets to much, I buy a Terry’s Chocolate Orange for the fifth year running and make a swift exit. It’s the thought that counts.

“Where everything flows…”

It was reading the review of the album in the Guardian on Friday that clinched it. That and being the sort of fan that owns a copy of Ian McDonald’s Revolution In The Head . If you know that book then, chances are, you too have rushed out to buy the same album. If you haven’t, well, you’re missing out. In this book you can discover everything from how much marijuana the group smuggled into Rishikesh, India, on their retreat, to who played the Cor Anglais on Penny Lane . Beauty, details, etc.

If you’re still with me, and haven’t rushed out of your room, computer lab or detention centre at the first sight of Beatles Details (…Beatails?…), you’ll have guessed that, yep, I’ve gone and bought the new Beatles album, Love , remixed and remastered by George Martin (who else?) and his son, Giles.

The songs – there are 26 of them – have been remastered in 5.1 Surround Sound. I was unsure whether the album would “work” for me, because I’ve got permenant moderate sensorineural hearing loss (try saying that with a mouthful of peas).
You’ll be pleased to know it worked brilliantly.
Even I could tell on the first listen how clear and distinct the vocals, drums and other instruments were, from the haunting echoes of Lennon’s voice on Tomorrow Never Knows to the gentle acoustic intro of Here Comes The Sun and the powerful distortion on Revolution. There’s a fresh energy in songs like Lady Madonna or I Wanna Hold Your Hand now that the stomping piano chords and lively backing vocals are that much clearer.

What of the editing? Well, it’s a goldmine for Beatles’ fans, and generally a very uplifting album for those of you who don’t know what happens at 2:58 on Hey Jude (it’s been edited out for this album, by the way). Mixing different parts of loads of Beatles songs must have been a challenge and a half, it’s quite rightly been described as the “best job in the world” by Giles Martin and, of course, one that you’re only likely to get if you’re some sort of music producer genius…or the son of one.
It’s fantastically done, though, and you’re in for a feast of surprises; You’ll hear Ringo’s string-backed “Hovis Advert” vocals at the beginning of Octopus’s Garden, parts of an early rendition of A Day In The Life, George Harrison almost reciting the words of While My Guitar Gently Weeps and, if you close your eyes listening to Yesterday it’s as if you too were backstage watching a young McCartney sing it live for the first time. One of my particular favourites is a three-in-one mix of Drive My Car, What You Doing and The Word. It captures the Summer of Love vibe really effectively with it’s beautiful harmonies and upbeat tempo.

In fact, the mood of the whole album is joyous, because you’re essentially listening to old favourites, in much better quality, with pleasing little changes that keep you listening in anticipation. It’s a bit like having an old auntie round for tea, realising that she’s looking healthier than you’ve ever seen her, and discovering it’s because her knew hobby is off-piste snowboarding. You’ll be smiling for a long time afterwards.

Shut the door, it’s freezing inside!

I’ve just spent some time talking to someone who does a job I never knew existed. He’s the production manager for a company which makes, among other things, the magnetic seals for fridges.

I always thought they were just made along with the whole fridge, but no, the fridge manufacturers have contracts with the company to make these seals, which are specifically designed for various models made by the fridge manufacturer.

Something new, every day, life’s full of surprises, etc…On that note, from Fridge Seal in Australia here are some related facts (you can mock me if you like but I know you’ll read on):

Did you know that typically a family of four opens the fridge door:

20 times a day,

140 times a week,

7,300 times a year

21,900 times in 3 years

36,500 times in 5 years

Cherish this information – remember, it may one day save your life.