Happy Spring!

Aptly, our first tulip opened today.

We are the 2%

Only about 2% of women will have 2 miscarriages in a row. Somehow we’ve been dealt this card. Thankfully I’m more at peace this time. Still, in memory…

Butterbean, was expected October 2012

Blueberry, was expected April 2012

Wanderlustless

A Short Story

In Harlem it was Hispanic and Caribbean kids, their faces smiling broadly on an unusually hot September afternoon spent playing in the spray of taxi-cab yellow fire hydrants. In Vancouver there were the prostitutes, tears streaming down their chins and breasts, clutching red roses, the gifts of young do-gooders. Prints from a never-sleeping city in the far east, like stones and glass blocks stacked high and wide, adorned with year-round festive lights, crowns and jewels advertising and flashing in the Hong Kong midnight. In Tehran, the eyes peering out into the lens of my Canon from blackened veiled faces, some content, some afraid, some defiant.

Film strips impregnated with moments, memories and faces. My world has become infinitely smaller recently, confined to the threadbare burgundy, lumpy and stained navy, new and firm brown sofas in the lives and comfort of the moments, memories and homes of friends.

It’s the catch-22 of being a freelance photojournalist: needing the funds to travel to make the money to do what you really love over and over again. It was all coming along so well when my means to travel hung a sign on its door – ‘Shop for Sale’. More boards would inevitably come to hide the vacated face of a once thriving local family food shop, and the only decent one around selling things made by the grandmotherly woman at the back rather than a factory machine in nameless Europe. Yet another victim of the economy-bites-the-dust on a nondescript East London street losing it’s identity and history.

And my own history and identity – my work, my own tangible scraps of memories, hopes, dreams and passions – boxed up and kept for a time we’re all hoping and praying for. Kept in a climate-controlled aluminium-clad box for as long as the royalties will keep on paying.

It’s been two months of shuffling around friends’ living rooms, always trying not to wear my welcome thin. I spend most of my days in libraries or wandering up those boarded-up streets snapping photos of my urban nightmare. But looking out the window here and seeing the flowers cropping up, I’m really thankful it’s spring. I can’t imagine hauling my one rucksack through the London winter.

I’ve never been in one place long but always had a place to return to. I use to get my sense of who I was from my freedom to keep moving. Now, that feeling has been obliterated by my inability to just stay in one place. I feel like the recently unemployed city businessman walking around the streets near Bank, suited and carrying a case but with no real destination or purpose. Just going through the motions of existing and trying not to forget what it means to be alive.

Coming here earlier today a homeless guy stopped me to ask for some change. He’d seen my camera and must’ve assumed I was a tourist or had money of some sort. He said that he’d worked for a local paper in his hometown up north taking photos until it went bust. I wonder if that’s how he ended up wearing mismatched and frayed gloves, wrapped in a dirty blanket, sitting on top of a tired sleeping bag pan-handling at Euston. Surely a guy like that could do some work for the Big Issue or something, right?

I’m clean, not begging, living on the edge but not on the street. The world doesn’t know that all I lay claim to is tucked away in storage or in my rucksack. I wonder if people looked into my eyes like those veiled eyes in Tehran, would they see what is otherwise hidden from plain sight? Would they give a shit? Or will I just end up moving from hostel to hostel for the rest of my life or as one of these nameless inconvenient tramps passed up by thousands of high and mighty Londoners? Turns out I’m the poster boy of homeless London after all.

For more info on the hidden homeless see http://www.crisis.org.uk/pages/about-hidden-homelessness.html. BBC Three is currently recruiting for people to contribute towards a new documentary on the issue of sofa surfing so stay tuned for that to come out (https://www.facebook.com/groups/346516022042076/).

Sunday Rambling- Clapton Park to Hackney Wick

This gallery contains 25 photos.

Took some photos on our wanderings today from Clapton Park to Hackney Wick (on the edge of the 2012 Olympic Park) Came home to care for our pitiful klepto-kitten who was divested of her womb Friday. To spare her the … Continue reading →

Recipe: Coq au Vin, sans ‘coq’

Seldom do I buy the frozen meat replacements these days but earlier this week I had a hankering for something ‘meaty’ in texture so I bought some of the vegetarian ‘chicken’ pieces. Last night I was in no mood to cook and the hubster wasn’t terribly hungry after eating a big lunch at 3pm, yet somehow I managed to find inspiration when struck with the idea of a vegetarian Coq au Vin (Hen in wine) and seeing as there was ‘chicken’ in the freezer what better time to try it out.

I dug out my Williams-Sonoma cook book as given to me by a friend for our wedding yet sadly not used enough as we’re now veggie, and I began translating the recipe for my own use. If you keep up with my occasional foodie blog posts you’ll know I loathe measuring and so if you’re a stickler for precise measures you might as well google ‘vegetarian coq au vin’ now and find someone else’s recipe. Otherwise you are very welcome to join in my chaotic cookery and make recommendations in the comments.

Ingredients:

• Package frozen veggie ‘chicken’ (or another replacement such as tempeh or tofu)
• Bottle dry medium red wine
• Vegetable broth or stock
• salt and pepper
• Butter (unsalted preferably)
• Mushrooms, cut in half
• Carrots, chopped
• Onions (I was out so used a leek), chopped
• Garlic cloves, thinly sliced
• Plain flour
• Fresh or dried thyme
• Egg Noodles

1. Brown the ‘chicken’

In a heavy bottomed large pot, melt the butter (you’ll want enough to be left over for the veggies so don’t be too stingy) and season the ‘chicken’ with salt and pepper. Brown the pieces. Transfer to a bowl, reserving some butter in the pot.

2. Saute the vegetables

Using the butter left in the pot (or adding more if necessary), saute the mushrooms until golden. Add the onions (or leeks in my case), carrots and garlic and saute until softened. Sprinkle with a couple tablespoons of flour and stir. Pour in the red wine (if cooking a half pack of ‘chicken’ as I did, I used about a quarter of a bottle and poured myself a glass at this stage) and bring to a boil. When cooking with real meat, you’d deglaze the pot at this point, so if you’ve got any bits at the bottom, scrape them up to mix in. Pour in the broth or stock (I used about 1 mug which was a bit too much) and bring to a boil again.

3. Combine, simmer and enjoy!

Add the ‘chicken’ back in, stir it up and cover. Turn it down a bit and let it cook for 45 minutes or so to thicken. Have some pasta ready for when it finishes and pile it on top. Don’t forget to drink with a nice glass of vin!

Because I wasn’t measuring I did add too much broth as I wasn’t paying close enough attention to the proportions in my cookbook so I had to add a bit more flour to thicken it up. It tasted absolutely smashing though and the ‘chicken’ was a nice burgundy colour from lapping up the wine.