August & The Summer I Turned Unpretty
A month of two halves: one spent overstaying my welcome in gremlin mode, and the other getting right back out of it. I'll explain...
Christ but being under the weather is an ROLLERCOSTER. I had at least 17 false starts where I told myself I was feeling better, relaunched myself back into the world, only to realise that I felt like a huge pile of poop and take to my bed (how victorian of me) once again. Consequently, I felt like the worst, heaviest, most unkempt version of myself for much longer than I was happy with. BUT I finally have made it back to regular workouts, and the grey hue of my gills has given way to a shade less associated with morbidity. After this hiatus I have felt like I needed rehabilitated back into society, much like I imagine how one recently released from prison might, and the social skills needed brushing up a bit, but now, just at the end of the month, for better or worse for those around me, I am definitely there.
The moral of the story is that I cannot be trusted to tell the truth to myself as I have zero objectivity when it comes to my own physical health, which is a skill that I thought I would have mastered by this stage of adulthood but alas (I’ve gone victorian again there), no. Forever a mistress of self delusion on that front. And if you don’t believe me that I am better (I also had reservations) I present Exhibit A: A consistent fitbit readiness score of high 90s which hadn’t been seen in a while, and Exhibit B: A series of completed, even enjoyed, heavy workouts.
Anyway, what you came here for is not the ins and outs how I’ve been feeling, but a run down of craic from the month. So here goes…
Daphne’s, Chelsea
I had a meal at the start of the month here, which was a delight. Indefensibly expensive, mind you, especially for pasta, but it was with smashing company (the Irish girls) and the craic was such that I remained horizontal for some 24-48 hours thereafter.
I woke up the next morning with a message from someone saved in my phone as “Man” inquiring about my wellbeing. Let’s gloss over that.
Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York)
I’d love to know if anyone else does this, but when I’m trying to find my way back to me, self care looks like getting dressed and made up to trick myself into thinking that all is well. A kind of “fake it til you make it” approach, where if I look good, I feel good. So, as part of my charm offensive on myself, I got myself dressed up real nice (highly subjective) and ventured into central London for a glass of rosè and a bowl of zucchini fritte, and then onto the theatre to see Two Friends Carry a Cake Across New York. It is a new musical, and the story of how the son of a groom and the sister of a bride encounter each other the night before the wedding. I loved it - exactly what I needed as part of project lighten myself up, and for once I don’t have to issue the disclaimer that it is “a bit dark”. I left feeling at least 400% chirpier than I entered - which I declare high praise. Its run is over now, but do see if it crops up once again.
Frank Skinner
I love Frank Skinner. I love him on the radio on Saturday morning, I loved him years ago on Fantasy Football with David Baddiel, I loved him as an interviewer back when he had that chat show and I even loved him when he made Myleene Klass cry (I’m not pleased that Myleene Klass was crying - Myleene Klass is lovely! - but the man knew how to skip the frivolity and go deep. He should have been the new Parkinson, if you ask me). Anyway, he was in standup in London so you best believe I went to see him, and he was predictably great - funny, not horribly abrasive, but just abrasive enough. I went with a friend, the kind of friend that makes me resent the rest of the world, or at least mankind, for not being a bit more like them - and it was lovely.
Cecconi’s
A selection of small plates with a man we will call Brooklyn Sean, who was also small (not a problem) and probably high (problem). The service was clumsy, but, when Brooklyn Sean went to the bathroom (probably to get higher) I learned that it was the waiter’s first day, so for all that I wasn’t in favour of about Brooklyn Sean, I became the waiter’s cheerleader. Or maybe more like his encouraging aunt. Cecconis’s is great, as a rule though - this was the one in Mayfair.
Sexy Fish, Mayfair
Brooklyn Sean was keen for a cocktail here (I don’t even particularly like cocktails) so we walked across and I continued to bore the poor man with the ins and out of what I consider a really interesting piece of work I’m involved in (I told you you it was a slow start to the month), and he continued to present as someone who was probably high and definitely amorous. Venue great, company tedious. I was home by 1030. But here is a picture of some fish that I presume are sexy, if you’re into that kind of thing.
EXOTIKKA OF INDIA, Chelsea
Whispers: This might be the best of the best of the hidden gems for London curry lovers. DELICIOUS food, BYOB, attentive service, AND five people fed for…£120!! In Chelsea! Unheard of. Go, but don’t tell too many people.
Kneecap The Movie
Now, I have found myself in many’s an odd situation in life, you could say that I make it my business to, in fact, but surely sitting in a Hammersmith cinema watching and hearing “Brits out” and “tiocfaidh ár lá” on repeat is up there with the oddest.
But in a case of truth being oodles stranger than fiction, it did indeed happen. This movie deserves all the accolades, and controversies, that are thrown its way. Occasionally it is a bit gratuitously coarse even for my taste, but it makes its point in the most Trainspotting-like of ways, and is not in any way trite, which is a hazard that many of those working towards a similar cause (of promoting the Irish language) fall into. Scrape back all the stuff designed to demonstrate just how much these lads don’t give a rats ass what you think, and it’s hard not to like.
Ham Yard Hotel, Soho
I soaked up the energy of this part of town here, with a G&T served with samphire and the teeniest tiniest little peg you every did see. I’ve so many questions about that teeny tiny peg - where does one source them? What are they really meant for? A clothes line for Slyvanian families? Are they actually stationery, moonlighting as a mixologists accessory?
made an excellent point in notes about upgrading to a gin martini and saltying up the samphire, and I with hindsight I am inclined to agree. But, focusing on the review at hand, this hotel bar is a great al fresco, buzzy, pre theatre shout.Pigs Ear, Chelsea
An excellent pub in Chelsea that I visited this month - menu, staff, food, all brilliant. Will go back as a matter of urgency, although they did run out of fries, which obviously is challenging in any situation.
Frantoio’s, Chelsea
I was reminded of the existence of this gem not far from me this month by
here on Substack, so made a point of getting myself there. Grilled calamari, Prosecco and a bowl of zucchini fritte (yes, again, I like what I like, ok?) went down a treat late on bank holiday Monday evening, and it only dawned on me to take a snap after the main event (I’ll get better at photos, I promise, but I’m rather enjoying being totally present in the moment too). I know at least three different people who all are of the opinion that they are the maître d’s favourite patrons, which speaks to how special they strive to make diners feel. AND it is fun.Lastly, a moment for Banksy this month who struck at various parts of the city - this one was close by. Think what you like about him (them?) and/or his (their?) art, and who really cares if he is the guy from Massive Attack, Art Attack, or some other retired arts teacher from the Midlands, but his signature style is a masterclass in PR. Fascinating stuff. Oh, and I’ve already made the pun about my opinion here being irrelephant. You’re welcome.
Good stuff from August
The flat Mary Jane is where it is at, for me, for a interseasonal shoe. The studs on these ones modernise the classic shape. Size down, they come up big. The mix of the off shoulder knit with the sheer skirt of this dress really speaks to me for this time of year too - and brown is going nowhere soon. The big earrings I purchased, and have worn with a slicked back pony and strapless top and was told several times that I looked glamorous, which given that I’d come straight from the gym was quite the turn of events. The white dress with zigzag trim I love - sizing is a little off, with a big difference between the small and medium and neither really fitting me perfectly, but is worth altering. Reading material for the month was this debut novel by Emily Dunlay - it is of the glamour and politics genre, which I’m here for. I picked up the jelly shoes to brighten my days at the start of the month and they bring me so. much. joy. to look at, and are surprisingly comfortable. And, in a new category, - snack of the month goes to the ITSU vegetable crispy rolls - 188 calories for 5, if you’re inclined to mind these things. Rattle up a little soy dipping sauce and you have yourself a ten out of ten snack. Same goes for the Itsu Gyoza and Bao Buns - I constantly have them in the freezer, and it is love, pour moi.
Monthly Musings - The Racist, Xenophobic, Islamophobic Riots
The riots, as for so many people this month, felt heavy. For me, it reminded me of the darkest days of the troubles - days that peppered my childhood and I only remember vignettes rather than long clear memories. The feeling of uncertainty and unease of how you would be greeted by people you encounter is by now predominantly a thing of the past at home in the north of Ireland, but is not completely gone. I recognised it as I passed some people on the street here in London this month. I could sense their fear of being othered, or being hated simply for who or how they are.
It gave me a few days of sadness. It reminded me of the song lyric about ‘man’s great inference to his fellow man’ in Eric Bogle's ‘Green Fields of France’. It also reminded me of something that I have thought about in a different context before: That there is no greater menace to society than those who feel that they have nothing to lose. They do have something left to lose of course - their civil liberties, but we’d all have to wonder how so many seem to feel that way.
To re-centre, I have to remind myself that we can only change what we can change. I know I do my bit - and it is, on the grand scheme of things, a tiny bit. It will never be enough, and it never feels that it is, but it is much better than doing nothing.
Sending solidarity to anyone who has felt particularly persecuted, or scared, throughout.
On another note, the Jermain Jenas sacking scandal caught my attention later in the month, because try as I might I fail to see it as anything other than the BBC throwing him under a bus. They made the case particulars public, and it reeks to me of a demonstrative project to rehab their damaged reputation for how they deal with scandal. (If you missed it, the presenter was sacked for sending “inappropriate” messages to two female colleagues. Shitty humaning, no doubt). Did the BBC have to make it public? Have they been as candid in every other investigation outcome? Why did they choose to be in this case, if not for PR for their HR? Keep in mind that the chronology is that it follows the criticism they received for mishandling the situation around Huw Edwards crimes, and prior to the release of the investigation into conduct on Strictly. I don’t sympathise with Jenas, but the story, for me, is more about the BBC virtue signalling. I didn’t know who he was prior to the scandal, he was a relatively easy target when compared to, say, strictly stars or news anchors. I would love to hear if anyone else agrees, or if I’ve gone too cynical.
That is us for this month, folks. Just to warn you ahead of next month - I’ll be moving flat and up to my eyes and ears in life admin, so there is a strong chance that I may miss a post, but will see how we go. I’ll do my best. I’ll share the details of the move, in time too - I’m just working out how I feel about it myself, before going into the detail.
Next month I also want to talk about new season fashion loveliness, the story of the night my father died (cheery) and if I really think the phenomenon that is the Irish wake is a good thing, and part two of the dating diaries - which won’t be as fun as this piece was - and thanks for all your kind words and funny stories that you shared about dating last week. And for anyone who wondered, Octavio peaked too early. He was no fun after that.
Until next time
Big love
Una
x