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Heading out for dinner this weekend? Well, let me recommend Jamie Oliver’s new gaff, Union Jacks in Chiswick, which just opened last month. There’s one in Covent Garden; in fact, as you’ll be aware, Jamie Oliver restaurants, like Leon or Pret, have been popping up left, right and centre for the last few years. Resistance (and believe me I tried!)
I’m still full. Almost twenty four hours after dinner at Notting Hill’s most stylish Spanish restaurant El Pirata Detapas and I’m finding it hard to even contemplate dinner tonight. This is weird for two reasons: 1) I eat like a horse, or bull, in this case and I’m always starving and 2) tapas or this ‘small plates’ malarky that every-restaurant-that’s-any-restaurant
In search of – if I’m honest – little more than a Thursday night glass of vino and a sniff of a canape, I headed to the launch of the Art for Heart’s Sake Exhibition and Auction of Photography and Artwork at the European Design Centre last night. So imagine my surprise to find that a) the canapes were exceedingly
Apologies for being absent for a while, but I do have a great excuse, honest. First of all I was very busy going on three dates in a row (see Jan issue and say no more) and then I went on a few more dates with the one I liked best and then (to cut a very long story short)
“Are you a coquette?” asks David Carter, the dapper designer (and founder of 40 Winks hotel) with a smile, as I walk through Kettner’s lavish entrance to ‘Coquette’, just one of his many uber-chic vintage-style events. Um, well, I’m not really sure. According to Wikipedia, that’s ‘a woman who flirts girlishly with men to gain their admiration’ and I definitely
I knew I had a challenge ahead of me even before I arrived at The Book Club in Shoreditch for their Life Drawing Class on Tuesday night. It had been hard to persuade friends to join me: ‘I’m not really very arty’ etc etc. Eventually my friend Sally agreed to come with me, after I promised her it would be
Ahhh, afternoon tea. The only time it’s socially acceptable to have a good old binge on platters of sandwiches, cakes and scones. The posh version of the all-you-can-eat buffet. I used to think afternoon tea was something only Oscar Wilde and my grandma indulged in, but over the last year, I’ve tried everything from a ‘Chocoholic’s afternoon tea’ at The
I first watched the The Lost Boys when I was about nine years old. I blame my older brother for such a premature introduction to the horror genre (and the nightmares that ensued). As a teenager, he’d have his friends over for sleepovers to watch everything from The Shining to Carrie and as an impressionable and doting little sister, I
For me, festivals and music have always gone hand in hand. It’s all about the line-up. Well, that and the bar. This summer I’ve been to All Tomorrow’s Parties (Animal Collective), Wireless (Pulp) and Truck (St Etienne) for the very reasons in brackets. But then along came Wilderness and me, a newly acquired orange moustache and a large glass of
Monday night. Pretty much on a par with Suicidal Sunday night in my book. It’s the beginning of the week. After going into work I know exactly what lies ahead for the next four days (and it ain’t pretty – well, not as pretty as you’d think). And all I’m good for come 6pm is a bowl (or two) of
