I am exhausted. I have spent all week trying to brainwash small children into being gay, by relentlessly inserting homosexuality into their maths, geography and science lessons. Their little eyes widened when the gay algebra lesson started, but it worked: their concept of “normal sexual behaviour” has been successfully destroyed. It’s all part of the program brilliantly co-ordinated by the Homintern to imposed The Gay Agenda on Every Aspect of British Life.
That, at least, is what you would believe if you had read some of Britain’s best-selling newspapers this week, or listened to some prominent Tory politicians. The headlines were filled with fury. The Conservative MP Richard Drax said gays were trying to impose “questionable sexual standards” on kids, while the Daily Mail said we were mounting a massive “abuse of childhood.”
Here’s what is actually happening. A detailed study by the Schools Health Education Unit found that in Britain today, 70 percent of gay children get bullied, 41 percent get beaten up, and 17 percent get told at some point in their childhood that they are going to be killed.
I’ll tell you the story of just one of them. Jonathan Reynolds was a 15-year old boy from Bridgend in South Wales who was accused – accurately or not, we’ll never know – of being gay. He was yelled at for being a “faggot” and a “poof”. So one day, he sat a GSCE exam – later graded as an A - and went to the train tracks near his school and lay on them. He texted his sister: “Tell everyone that this is for anybody who eva said anything bad about me, see I do have feelings too. Blame the people who were horrible and injust to me, see I do have feeling too. Blame the people who were horrible and injust to me. This is because of them, I am human just like them. None of you blame yourself, mum, dad, Sam and the rest of the family. This is not because of you.” And then the train killed him.
I guess nobody told Jonathan Reynolds that, as the columnist Melanie Phillips put it, “just about everything in Britain is now run according to the gay agenda.” The great Gay Conquest didn’t make it from her imagination to his playground, or any playground in Britain. Gay kids are six times more likely to commit suicide than their straight siblings. Every week, I get emails from despairing gay kids who describe being thrown against lockers, scorned by their teachers if they complain, and – in some faith schools – told they will burn in Hell. Every day they have to brave playgrounds where the worst insult you can apply is to call something “gay”. They feel totally lost. This could have been your child, or my child, or Melanie Phillips’ child.
Is it “political correctness” and “McCarthyism” to try to ensure these kids can feel safe in their own schools – or is it basic decency? A few very mild proposals were made this week for how to change the attitudes behind this. They came from an excellent organization called Schools Out, which is run with a small grant from the tax-payer. They gave out a voluntary information pack in which they suggested that, to mark LGBT History Month, teachers acknowledge the existence of gay people in their lessons. They could teach in history about how Alan Turing played a vital role in saving the world from the Nazis and paved the way for the invention of the computer, only to be hounded to death for being gay. They could learn in science that homosexuality occurs in hundreds of species of animals. They could – yes! – maybe even look in maths lessons at the census data, figuring out how prevalent gay people are.
We know that these lessons work in making gay kids much safer. The Schools Health Education Unit found that homophobic violence was dramatically lower in schools that taught about homosexuality. Good schools like Stoke Newington Secondary that followed this program were assessed to have “virtually eliminated homophobic bullying.” That has a very powerful educational purpose: when gay kids feel safe, they can learn.
Yet these pragmatic policies to make kids safe were presented as a wicked plot to endanger children. We can’t stop the endemic intimidation and violence if every time there is a policy to do it, it is grossly distorted and demonized in this way. The critics even whispered that gays want to “impose” sexuality on kids – with hints of the ugliest and oldest lie about gay men, that they are paedophiles.
Yet in one strange way, the current backlash is reassuring. When I was a kid in the 1980s, these sentiments were so widespread that a law – Section 28 – was passed to resolve them, and the cowed critics were derided as “the loony left.” Today, the opinion polls show 80 percent of the British people support gay marriage, and the people offering these views are regarded as the loons. It’s worth pausing and saying to all the people who have been open to persuasion and have changed their minds on this question: thank you. It’s incredibly moving to see how many heterosexual people have rallied to the defence of gay people, and it’s a reminder that we will never go back now.
But this anti-equality shouting still has an effect. It stops many schools from pursuing sensible policies that would save kids like Jonathan Reynolds, for fear of being accused of “political correctness gone mad” – so it’s important to answer the arguments now.
These critics don’t appear to understand what homosexuality actually is. In every human society that has ever existed, and ever will, some 3 to 10 percent of the population has wanted to have sex with their own gender. This is a fixed and unchangeable reality. The only choice is whether you are pointlessly cruel to them, or accept their harmless difference. Homosexuality is “normal sexual behaviour”: it occurs wherever human societies exist. It is not engaged in by a majority, but using that logic, Jews and Muslims are “abnormal” in Britain too – an ugly and foolish claim.
Informing children about these facts can’t make them gay. Nothing can. You can no more teach a child homosexuality than you can teach them left-handedness. Oddly, the homophobes seem to understand this about their own sexuality, but not about other people’s. I once asked Michael Howard, the architect of Section 28, if he would be gay now if he had been taught to be as a child. He moved very anxiously in his seat and mumbled something incoherent.
In order to justify their desire to discriminate against gay people, the few remaining homophobes have concocted a scenario where they are The Real Victims. They can say what they want, set up churches or mosques that preach what they want, and turn away gay people from their homes every day of the week if they so desire – and I would defend every one of those rights to the last ditch. There is only one thing they can’t do. They can’t choose to offer a service to the general public, and then turn people away on the basis of race or sexuality. They can’t put up de facto signs saying ‘No blacks, no Irish, no gays’ at their B&B.
This isn’t a form of prejudice – it is a way of preventing prejudice. Nobody will ever force you to work in a registry office or open a B&B, but if you choose to, you can’t reject the gay couples and expect to remain in post. (In one case where this happened, they offered her a job in the office instead, but she chose to be a bizarre cause célèbre of prejudice instead.) Services for the general public have to be available without contamination by bigotry. It’s a simple principle. Don’t demand the right to spit in the face of gay people, and claim you’re being picked on when you’re asked to stop.
Yes, I know your religious texts mandate bigotry against gay people. They also mandate slavery and stoning adulterers, and they laud a God who feeds small children to bears (see II Kings ii, 23-24). As secular morality has evolved, you have managed to overcome those beliefs. Here’s another that has to catch up. If you are really going to defend Biblical or Koranic literalism, you’ll end up as Stephen Green, head of the tiny Christian Voice sect, who argues that there is biblical authority for the legalisation of rape by husbands. So febrile is the atmosphere in Uganda that David Kato, the incredibly brave campaigner for gay equality, was just lynched as part of the hate-wave.
When people say that a “deeply held religious conviction” should enable you to break anti-discrimination laws and treat gay people as second class citizens, I reply – what about the Mormons? Until 1975, they believed black people did not have souls. (They only changed their minds when the Supreme Court ruled it illegal, and God conveniently appeared to say they did have souls after all.) Should they have been allowed to run adoption agencies that refused to give babies to black people, because of their “deeply held religious conviction”?
But there is an even lower point in the homophobes’ rhetorical arsenal. Being subjected to bullying and violence as children and teenagers makes gay people unusually vulnerable to depression and despair. The homophobes then use that depression and despair to claim that homosexuality is inherently a miserable state – and we shouldn’t do anything that might “encourage” it. They create misery, and then use it as a pretext to create even more misery.
Yet Melanie Phillips, Richard Drax and the last raging band of homophobes are right about one thing. There is a “Gay Agenda.” They are only wrong about its contents. It has one item on the list, and one item only: to ensure that gay people are treated exactly the same as everybody else. That’s it. That’s all. That’s the sum total of our ambitions. To get there we may – yes – have to mention the existence of gay people in schools. It is the only way to save kids like Jonathan Reynolds, and make sure everyone knows – as he said in his final text, before the train hit – “I am human just like them.”
POSTSCRIPT
As a side-note, it’s especially galling to be accused of endangering children by Melanie Phillips, the journalist in Britain who has done more to recklessly endanger children than any other I can think of. She was the leading journalistic champion of the false claim that the MMR vaccine causes autism. She refused to listen to the overwhelming scientific consensus and instead promoted the claims of a fraudster called Andrew Wakefield. After she played a key role in spreading and popularizing his claims, the rate of children being vaccinated plummeted, and several have died.
Even after the British Medical Journal concluded that Wakefield staged an “elaborate fraud”, she has refused to apologise. I’d say persuading parents not to give their kids a life-saving vaccine based on the claims of a charlatan was a bigger “abuse of childhood” than teaching them that gay people exist, wouldn’t you?
Beggars can’t be choosers bullies, or rather they shouldn’t be. I am very open to the idea of donating money to homeless charities, and am an occasional buyer of The Big Issue (let’s face it no one buys it to actually read it), but I resent people begging for short change - something I don’t carry generally, and would be suspicious about giving.
The homeless people that ask for change whilst sat on the floor, wrapped in cardboard to try to keep warm, I genuinely feel sorry for. I would like to give them change if I had it, but have grown up being told by teachers not to. We were always taught to give money to the charities helping the homeless rather than to the specific homeless people, I think because then you know the money is being used for the right reasons. Cynical? Very much so.
Last week I met the other kind of homeless person (twice) or in these cases “homeless” person. Whilst waiting for my bus to work in Birmingham a twitchy, angry guy came over and started talking to me. He asked me if I would help a homeless person if I saw one… then he asked if I would buy him a hot drink since it was such a cold day… so was he saying he was homeless? I assume so. His tone was threatening, and made me feel uncomfortable. I was not convinced he was homeless, and I was late for work. So I walked/ran away to a different bus stop. Cowardly move I know, but no one else was about and I was feeling like I was about to be mugged…
Whilst waiting for my bus home that night, a lady approached me to ask if I had any change. I assumed it was for the bus/ something else, and had to tell her that I didn’t carry change as I had a bus pass (true for the most part, I believe I had about 10p in change on me). She then asked if she could use my phone… what?? I told her that I didn’t want to give my phone to a stranger… she said she wouldn’t run off with it… well she would say that wouldn’t she? The bus arrived and I thought that would end things, but no. She had a frickin bus pass, so got on and proceeded to ask to borrow the phone of every person on the bus. No one did. I felt bad, but confused, and justified in my decision, as she could have taken the phone and run off with it…. I was about to tell her about dialling a reverse charge call at a phone box but didn’t.
The incidents made me feel unnerved and ashamed in equal measures. Maybe my actions were cynical and selfish, but I’m not sure I’d do anything differently if similar situations arose in the future.

In December I finished Saturday by Ian McEwan, and was at a lost as to what I should follow it with. After reading such a great book, I struggled to settle on my next read. I tried reading Flush by Virginia Woolf (having already read all her other novels with the exception of Night and Day as part of my degree), but I failed to get into it… one for another day I think.
I went through a week without reading anything, then it was Christmas time and I went home to my parents’ house. My salvation came in the form of five great books that I really wanted to read amongst my presents on Christmas morning. I started Imperial Bedrooms by Bret Easton Ellis on Boxing Day and had devoured it by the following day. I wrote my dissertation on Ellis in the Autumn of 2009, and when Imperial Bedrooms came out last summer I knew I wanted to read it (it had originally been scheduled for release whilst I was writing my diss. which had concerned me a lot) but having spent so much time with his works, I need time away from him… I have to say I was mildly disappointed by Imperial Bedrooms. It was amusing and surprisingly streamlined given the sizes of Glamorama and Lunar Park, but I felt like Clay no longer sounded like Clay… he sounded like the fictitious version of Bret himself from Lunar Park. A minor quibble about was a great and challenging piece of literature, but I’m still concerned that Ellis is starting to become unable to create a voice that does not sound like his own.
When I returned to Wolverhampton (and to work), I started to read Mr Norris Changes Trains by Christopher Isherwood and loved it to pieces. I read A Single Man last year and was impressed, but I almost feel that Mr Norris… is a stronger piece. Well maybe not, but I loved it all the same. Arthur Norris is a wonderful creation, and Isherwood presents a vivid image of 1930s Berlin. I thoroughly encourage all to READ READ READ.
What next? I’m not sure. Maybe I should return to my fiance’s list of political theory books (yay… *cough*), or maybe I should read another of Joseph Hanson’s great detective books… hmm…
When I hear an automated voice announce the above at a train station it makes my blood boil. Are you really sorry? I seriously doubt it. At Birmingham New Street station I have serious reservations about whether they care about providing a decent service at all let alone whether they mind delayed trains considering they have so many of them daily.
Every train I have tried to catch this week from New Street has been delayed by at least 15 minutes. On Monday my train was delayed by 25 minutes, on Tuesday I got on a train that was delayed because it could not leave until a different delayed train had left (I had just got off said train and run across the station to catch what I had presumed would be an earlier leaving train. It was not), on Wednesday my train was delayed for 15 minutes and yesterday set an all time low for my New Street experiences.
I was allowed to leave work early and arrived at New Street at 18:17. There was a delayed train to Manchester scheduled to leave at that time (perhaps the first sign that I shouldn’t try and catch it), so I rushed down and managed to get on it and even find a seat. 10 minutes passed and then we were told that the driver had yet to arrive… another 8 minutes and we were advised to catch different trains… I had passed on three other trains that would have got me home by committing to the delayed train. I should have changed trains as soon as they announced the absence of a driver, but I foolishly believed that they had meant he would be arriving shortly, and was still smarting from what had happened on Tuesday. I did get on a train that was also delayed, but only by 3 minutes…
In the new year I shall have to pay more money for this overcrowded, incompetant service… I’m sorry what?
On the train home from Birmingham the other day, I overheard a man complaining about home people on the tube in London push and shove. I had to restrain myself from turning around and telling him that I preferred aggressive behaviour to the dawdling and down right stupidity that goes on in the streets and public transport in Birmingham.
In a hurry? Need to run down an escalator or flight of steps to make your train home? Rarely possible at Birmingham New Street Station. People there are content to stand side by side on escalators and not allow anyone passed. A woman recently decided not to take the lift down to the platform, but to try to wheel her pram down the steps - there was no child in it, just her mountain of stuff. There is a ramp that leads up into the Pallasades shopping centre (through which I get to New Street Station) and there are signs on it saying ‘Keep Left’, and there is a big yellow line down the middle of the ramp. Very few people follow this advice. Meandering in large, slow moving groups is way more fun.
This kind of behaviour would not fly in London. People who don’t stand on the right of escalators are shouted at, shoved out of the way and generally made to feel like the morons they are. A group of people with large cases once decided that right at the bottom of an escalator was the perfect place to stop. During the morning rush hour. They were soon made to see the errors of their way. Plus, they were a health hazard as they were preventing people getting off of the escalator.
So I would happily take the hostile London attitude over the lazy Birmingham one because at least it means I would get where I was going in a timely manner… or that I could at least glare at the person who prevented me from doing so.
Yesterday I was on the bus home from work when a shifty guy sat down behind me. I must stress that I work in a very deprived part of Birmingham, which has high crime levels etc etc. I was on my i-phone and immediately regretted having it out. The guy was making strange sounds behind me, and I was convinced he was going to mug me either whilst I was still on the bus, or as soon as I got off it…
I was wrong.
Whilst rushing to get off the bus I had manage to drop my Network West Midlands pass, and who picked up and returned it to me? My potential mugger. I had stereotyped the guy based on his ethnicity, his appearance and where he was travelling from. Does this mean I should stop being so judgemental? Maybe a little less, but I’m not sure that it’s something I can stick to…
I appreciate that it’s cold outside (actually it’s incredibly cold outside at the moment), and that everyone gets a bit under the weather sometimes, but that doesn’t excuse three things: excessive coughing, sniffing and throat clearing on public transport. And I shall explain why…
1. Coughing - OK so it’s an uncontrollable reaction, but seriously at least put your hand over your mouth, and if it’s so bad that you can’t stop doing it for 30 mins then perhaps you should be in bed or at least have a glass or water.
2. Sniffing - Blow. Your. Nose.
3. Throat Clearing - Perhaps the most annoying of all. Do I need to explain why?
OK I’m calm again now. Maybe I have been a little harsh, as let’s face it when I’m sick (which will inevitably happen sometime in the next six months) I will expect everyone to be sympathetic and excuse my sniffing/coughing/sneezing… though I will at least carry a big pack of tissues with me…
If I were to hazard a guess, I would estimate that over 50% of blogs written by a blogger who seriously intends on maintaining it contain a post apologising for not posting for weeks/ months. After noticing the gap of almost a week between posts from earlier in the month, I felt compelled to apologise and grovel and promise to write more regularly… But, I have decided that I wont.
Maybe it’s an English thing, but I spend half my life apologising for things, even when I’m not at fault - someone isn’t looking where they are going, they bump into me, and I say sorry. The apology has lost all sincerity through overuse… but that’s another issue for another post, what I want to explain is why I wont apologise for not writing in my blog (if anyone has foolishly continued reading up to this point).
In my mind a blog is somewhere where you can express your opinions, somewhere you can process what is going on in your mind, and somewhere you can share pretty pictures/ interesting articles/ fun videos. However it is not an obligation. Although of course the point of having a blog is to write posts for it, if we have nothing that we want to share then there is no point blogging about nothing… let’s face it we have all posted something for the sake of posting something and perhaps been mildly disappointed that we had to resort to it.
My reason for not posting (if I need an excuse, which I of course don’t yet still feel compelled to give…) is that I have been busy with work. I have had time to post, but not the energy. I have kept a list of ideas for posts (lots of tennis related ideas, which I suddenly realised last week was something I had intended to post about a lot), and hopefully I will get round to them in a speedy fashion, if not then don’t hold your breath for an apology… [I’m sorry if this came across as rude…]
I made a lemon drizzle cake for the Mr’s birthday a couple of weeks back, but have been slow to post it on here because it was a bit of a disappointment. Firstly it didn’t rise very much (which was undoubtedly my fault), and secondly it was just so extremely lemon-y. Far too lemon-y in fact. And we both like lemon deserts… Anyway, I have copied it out below and I’m sure an able baker can rectify it to make it more enjoyable.
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Having finally waded my way through all 90 pages of The Prince, it’s finally time for me to start reading something else. I would like to say that my slow progress through Machiavelli’s text was due to busyness but since I didn’t start working until last Monday there really is no excuse… still I read it, digested it, vaguely remember some of his key concepts, and now have the delicious satisfaction of knowing that I have indeed read it.
Now I shall be reading Saturday by Ian McEwan. I have only ever read one other book by McEwan, Enduring Love, which I enjoyed, so I’m looking forward to trying another one. The Mr’s father leant me his copy of Saturday so I guess I really will need to crack on with i! I will update you with my thoughts/ ramblings on it if I have any once I have finished it.

The Mr asked me to make a biscuit-y treat that he could bring into the office on his birthday last week. He had mentioned millionaire’s shortbread a few days earlier, and so I thought I’d take a risk and make it. I made ‘Black Millionaire’s Shortbread’ which uses treacle and golden syrup instead of caramel, which results in a really rich end result.
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Dear reader I married him. Not quite. I am employed.

The Mr was determined that we go full throtle this Halloween, so last Monday we carved a pumpkin (see the post below) and yesterday we baked Halloween biscuits. We used a recipe from the BBC website, but cut the dough into circles as we didn’t have “Halloween-style biscuit cutters” because we are not that tacky (yet). We then proceeded to decorate our biscuits and swiftly realised that we both suck at using icing. The biscuits in the photo are our best attempts and I’m sure anyone reading this will struggle to identify what half of them are supposed to be of. The recipe says the mix should make 6-8 biscuits, we doubled it thinking that the aforementioned estimate was stingy, and ended up with over 30… the Mr then mentioned how he only really wanted “one or two”. I was not pleased.
The recipe below is the one given on the BBC website. The quantities seem at times a bit random, so I would strongly suggest using it as a guide and just winging it. Happy Halloween!
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From yesterday’s Guardian newspaper:
A north London school which has developed lessons on gay historical figures who suffered persecution claims to have succeeded in “more or less eliminating homophobic bullying” in its classrooms and playgrounds over the last five years.
The life story of the wartime code-breaker Alan Turing is among those being used to tackle homophobia. Authors Oscar Wilde and James Baldwin and artist Andy Warhol also feature.
Now Stoke Newington secondary plans to share the lessons with hundreds of primary and secondary school teachers. By the summer, it will have trained more than a hundred teachers in how to “educate and celebrate” being gay.
Turing, a mathematician who cracked German codes in the second world war, was prosecuted in 1952 for his homosexuality, which was then a crime. He was forced to decide between prison and taking female hormones to reduce his libido, and chose the latter. An inquest into his death – two years after his prosecution – returned a verdict of suicide.
Last year, Gordon Brown offered a posthumous government apology for the way Turing had been treated for being gay.
Elly Barnes, a music teacher, devised the lesson plans and training course with the help of colleagues. Her concern began when she heard a pupil say their “pen was so gay” when it snapped in two. Barnes’s aim is to “eradicate homophobia from all schools” by giving staff the confidence and resources required to tackle the prejudice.
Earlier this month, the Equalities and Human Rights Commission published a report, How Fair is Britain?, which found two-thirds of lesbian, gay and transgender students had suffered homophobic bullying, and 17% had received death threats.
Nearly half of secondary school teachers in England believe homophobic bullying is common. Only one in six believes their school is active in promoting the rights of gay pupils, the commission found.
“Many schools haven’t even begun to deal with homophobia,” Barnes said. “Some still think being gay is illegal in parts of the country.”
She believes one problem is that teachers dread taking lessons on homosexuality. “Many are scared of celebrating LGBT [lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender] as they are worried pupils will judge them and will assume they are gay. In fact, to them, we are just a blob giving them information. Over the five years, I’ve only had three pupils ask whether I am gay.”
A week ago, a group of 10 and 11 year olds trooped into Barnes’s classroom and she played them a clip from the film The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, which is about three drag queens travelling across the Australian outback. The pupils appeared happy to discuss transvestites and transsexuals.
“There is a man at my auntie’s work who wears a skirt and has really hairy legs,” said one. “Criss-cross is where you like both men and women,” offered another.
Florence, aged 12, told the class about the first wedding she went to. “It was a gay wedding and they were called Andrew and Eric, and I wanted to be a bridesmaid, but I had only known them for two years.”
Josiah, aged 11, said: “The pope opposes homosexuality, but I don’t know why, as I think everyone should have free will.”
Occasionally, the lessons do not go to plan. One of Barnes’s colleagues, Anna Gluckstein, was teaching about Turing when a boy at the back of the class got up and chanted “batty man, batty man” – a Jamaican term for a gay man.
A poll of 1,145 pupils in 2007 by the charity Stonewall found 65% of lesbian, gay and bisexual students had experienced homophobic bullying. Some 98% said the word “gay” was used as a synonym for “rubbish”.
“By looking at famous LGBT people in history, we’ve changed opinions and we have had a number of pupils come out,” Barnes said. “We have also changed the language used in the school. I used to hear the word gay used all the time as a derogatory term. Now we hardly hear it.”

Tonight I made miso broth with noodles and an assortment of vegetables. I had considered making a Thai curry, but whilst flicking through my cookery books I came across this recipe and it looked so straightforward and tasty (which it is) that I had to give it a bash.
The recipe is from Maria Elia’s The Modern Vegetarian and it’s incredibly simple. I chose to go with asparagus, broccoli and mushrooms, but you could easily use a variety of other vegetables. I also used miso powder (one of those instant miso soup packets) but Elia suggests using miso paste, the powder worked just fine, so don’t be concerned if you can’t find one or the other.
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Maria Elia’s Miso Broth with Noodles and Vegetables
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Perhaps this should be titled my obsession of the past two weeks as that would be more accurate. For the past 14 days I have been plowing my way through teeny pots of petits filous and loving every petit mouthful. I guess I bought them on a whim; overcome by a wave of nostalgia for the days when my Mum would pack them in my lunchbox, I knew that I just had to have some. The strawberry pots are still clearly superior, but I have a new found respect for the raspberry and apricot pots, both of which I cruelly maligned in my youth. With only four out of my mammoth pack left, my trip down memory lane will soon be over, but perhaps this is for the best, as there is something unnatural about having to eat out of a container that most of my teaspoons struggle to fit into.

I made this risotto last week, it’s one of my favourites and was actually the first risotto I ever made. My sister and I made it for my Dad for Father’s Day a few years back and since then it has been a hit with everyone I have made it for. The mascarpone makes this a luxurious risotto, whilst the flavours of the sweet roasted garlic and thyme combined with the toasted breadcrumbs and almonds makes this a more-ish dish.
The recipe is by Jamie Oliver, and a copy of it can be found here.

This week I made a custard tart. It started off really well, the pastry was easy to make and happily filled my flan tin. Then it all went wrong: I hadn’t weighed it all down properly so it puffed up in a couple of places, I accidentally overfilled the case and then I proceded to slosh so more of the filling onto the out/inside of the oven, leaving me with very little tart. When it came out of the oven there was pastry visible in one place! So I did what all cooks would do in my situation, I dusted the tart heavily with icing sugar. It still looked awful. Two days later only one slice has been eaten. FAIL.
[I originally contributed this hurried article for the November 2009 issue of an online student magazine called The Tribe, but thought in the light of recent events in America it was worth re-posting here.]
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The recent Stonewall poster campaign ran with the words: ‘Some people are gay. Get over it!’
Britain desperately needs to.
When Stephen Gately tragically died recently, the majority of the media focus was on his sexuality. Whether it was the thinly veiled prejudice of Jan Moir’s article, or a rehashing of his coming out in 1999, the British press concentrated on the fact that he was gay. Admittedly Gately’s decision to come out was a bold move, but surely there was more to say about his life than this? Then there is the attention that Donal Og Cusak, a famous goalkeeper in the world of Irish Hurling, received for joining those out of the closet. He of course deserves to be praised for taking this brave step, but his admission only further emphasises the lack of openly gay men in sport (however that is a whole other issue). If recent events have taught us anything it is that being gay is still considered a big deal.
Something that should be considered a big deal is homophobia. Despite being a relatively gay-friendly town, homophobic abuse occurs in St Andrews - from the random drunken insult (bizarrely even in the Gay Bop last year) to a beer mat being thrown at a lesbian couple out on a date. However these instances of homophobia are on such a small scale when compared to some of the incidents that occur nationally, many of which go unreported. A recent example is the violent assault on Police trainee James Parkes, who was attacked by a gang of around 20 people outside of a club in the city centre of Liverpool. The attack was reportedly unprovoked and motivated solely by the fact that Parkes was gay.
How does such a horrific thing still happen in Britain today? Perhaps the answer lies in how homophobia is tackled in schools. Speaking to a teacher at a Greater London primary school I was shocked by how she was told to deal with homophobia at her school. If a pupil is heard making a racist comment by a member of staff then the incident goes on the child’s record and is reported to (and potentially investigated by) the local governing body. A similar protocol is in place for anti-Semitism and other prejudice relating to religious beliefs. There is no such protocol for homophobia. If a teacher hears a student calling a member of their peer group “faggot” or “dyke”, the teacher would not be obligated to do anything about it.
In Britain there seems to be an insincere attitude of tolerance towards the homosexual community; Gays can adopt, can have civil partnerships, are allowed in the military… However actually witnessing the results of this tolerance, such as seeing two people of the same sex kissing in public, still provokes a negative reaction from a surprising number of people. The prevailing attitude in Britain seems to be that people are free to be gay so long as they don’t flaunt it - conferring equality without actually wanting to confront what it would mean for society. Is this not a pretty shoddy way to treat at least 6% of the population?

Today I tried my hand at making fresh pesto. I used Delia Smith’s recipe from her book Delia’s Vegetarian Collection, but there are tonnes of recipes out there that I’m sure are just as good. It was incredibly easy, though it required a tonne of basil, and Vassili II (our basil plant) is looking very bare now.
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I spend far too much time doing laundry. The poor clothes horse can’t take it anymore.

I know what you’re thinking, pretentious much? But I am indeed reading Machiavelli’s The Prince. It was not my choice. The Mr and I wrote each other a list of ten books that the other one had to read. The one I gave him was full of Henry James, Bret Easton Ellis and Ernest Hemingway. What I received in return were books of political theory and biographies… yeah… Having already tackled John McCain’s memoirs (yes I did soldier my way through that) I now turn my attention to the slimmest item on his list. Like most people I am aware of the basic premise of The Prince and I guess it is something I “should” read at some point in my life, so why not now?
Ok so they said it would be a disaster, and there is a severe lack of crowd support, but I’m really enjoying the coverage of the Commonwealth Games in Dehli. Maybe my underappreciation of the games in the past is due to the fact that I have never had so much free time to dedicate to watching them (maybe this illustrates how empty my life has become). My one little gripe is the lack of tennis coverage from the BBC: several matches on the opening day, one quick match shown on Tuesday, none Wednesday and Thursday, and then full coverage on Friday (today) when a lot of home interest have been knocked out. Still it’s only a minor issue. I have found myself avidly watching archery matches, swimming races, squash matches… and avoiding weightlifting and boxing, of course. In my opinion the games are entertaining, pretty competitive, and still relevant today. I am now tempted to get tickets for Glasgow 2014, as well as London 2012.

There is an episode of Gilmore Girls (yes, I am an unashamed fan of that show) where Lorelei (played by Lauren Graham) runs into a coffee shop demanding “Coffee coffee coffee!” and as a caffeine enthusiast this is how I feel every morning. Does this make me a coffee addict? And is this really a bad thing?
A quick search of the web and you can find numerous website proclaiming the dangers of coffee (and a few listing its benefits). This BBC article from 2007 outlines the perils of drinking excessive amounts of coffee: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/6945697.stm, from restlessness and nervousness to delirium and seizures if you really over do it, but would anyone actually drink the necessary 20+ cups a day to experience these effects? And is there anything wrong in having 3 or 4 mugs a day?
I love lattes, americanos, cappucinos, espressos (should I be saying cappucini etc?), filtered coffee, cafetiere coffee, even instant coffee; I will drink them all. My flatmate and I in my last year of university co-owned 6 cafetieres and come the end of the day they all needed washing up, which says it all really. Yet I believe I could give coffee up if I had to, I would miss it but I know I am capable of it. There are days when I don’t partake of a cup of delicious java (or even mediocre coffee), but I don’t experience withdrawal symptoms… so I guess despite sometimes jokingly referring to myself as a “coffee addict” I am not one, as I display no real signs of addiction. That does not rule out me developing one in the future, and this is where the well known mantra ‘everything in moderation’ rears its mundane head.
So what leads to immoderate consumption of coffee? I must admit I scoffed when I heard a few years back that Robbie Williams had checked himself into rehab for a caffeine addiction, but maybe I was too quick to judge. Like all drugs, an addiction to caffeine can really mess a person up, so perhaps it’s time we took it more seriously. Having said that, I know that tomorrow morning I’m going to wake up, stagger into the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee, and, most importantly, enjoy drinking it immensely.
[Currently I fill my cafetiere with Taylor of Harrogate’s Brasilia blend, however my favourite brand has got to be Lavazza]

Dipping into my i-tunes I rediscovered my love for Sheryl Crow. She is such a versatile singer and has recorded some truly amazing songs. Here are 10 of her best (in no particular order):

I love visiting Oxford and have been there many times since I was young. Attending an interview there yesterday was an enjoyable experience, but it made the return to the ugliness of Wolverhampton all the more depressing.

Inspired by the BBC’s The Great British Bake Off, yesterday the Mr and I decided to try our hand at baking bread. I had never made bread from scratch before so it was a relief that it turned out as well as it did. We used the recipe for a cob loaf from the show, which can be found at http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/paul_hollywoods_crusty_83536 and I fully intend to use it again in the future

I am obsessed with tennis, and I love gaining an insight into the personalities of the ATP and WTA tours through their blogs. Reading about their daily lives, their ambitions, the things they go through in order to compete, their injury troubles etc humanises players and never ceases to fill me with respect and admiration. Some of the blogs out there written by touring pros are a little stilted, especially those written for the ATP and WTA websites, so I have compiled 3 of the best (in my humble opinion) to share with you all:
I’m not really into webcomics, but I love this one and look forward to it every week. Charlie and Finn are such a cute couple.

Currently I am reading The Custom of the Country by Edith Wharton. My love affair with Wharton’s novels began with The Age of Innocence five years ago, but until this year I had not had the opportunity to read another of her books. That changed when I spotted a new edition of The House of Mirth in a bookshop in July, which I quickly devoured within days of purchase. Earlier this month I was surprised to see The Custom of the Country in a bookshop and just had to buy it too - am I missing something? Are schools in Britain finally teaching the mighty Edith Wharton? Whatever the reason for the revival I must say I am so glad that there is suddenly a glut of her novels out there for people to enjoy.
Wharton has often been dismissed as a lightweight immitator of Henry James, but I feel this is an unfair comparison, as there is a lot more to her writing than this criticism implies. Wharton’s prose can match Austen for its satirical acidity, as well as be emotionally heart-wrenching, and reflects Wharton’s interest in Social Anthropology (Just read Ellen’s farewell dinner in The Age of Innocence to understand what I mean).
I truly hope that The Custom of the Country lives up to her other novels, and so far I’m thoroughly enjoying reading about the deliciously self-absorbed Undine Spragg.

Last night the Mr came home to inform me that we had been invited over for dinner by one of his colleagues. Cue mild panic and the resolution that I’d bake a lemon tart. I made the same tart a few weeks back after news that the Mr’s aunt and uncle were stopping by and the panic attack that bombshell brought on [excuse the melodrama].
As the previous post about my vanilla biscuit fiasco suggests sweet things are not my forte in the kitchen, however the last time I made the tart it came out surprisingly well, so I was hoping for a repeat success. I found the pastry to be a little troublesome, but it seemed to work out ok. I used Fran Warde’s recipe from her book New Bistro, and have included the recipe below.
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Fran Warde’s Lemon Tart
For the pastry:
For the filling:
Playing in the garden with my older sister.
I had intended to start off this blog with a culinary success of some sort. Sadly this is not to be the case as I managed to fail at making biscuits. Despite having spent my teen years making biscuits and cookies, I managed to whip up some of the most bland vanilla creations known to man. Perhaps that is too strong a condemnation of them, but I don’t feel that it is worth copying out the recipe.
My baking disaster is perhaps an apt way to begin this, as it demonstrates that I am several miles off being the perfect Stepford husband. As ‘The Accidental Stepford’ suggests, the role of homemaker is not one I expected to find myself in at this stage in my life. I am 23 and a recent graduate. I have dreams and ambitions. These have been put on hold due to a combinations of factors. Firstly, the economic climate. This sounds like a massive cop out I know, the job market has always been tough and the chances of landing your dream job straight out of university have always been slim, but I can safely say that it is extra tough now. Secondly, I am living in the part of the country where there is a shortage of jobs in the industry I want to get into; publishing. Yes there are a few publishers in the West Midlands, Tindal Street Press (www.tindalstreet.co.uk) for instance, but there is hardly a glut of entry level positions available. So, for the past month I have been keeping house whilst my partner goes off to work every day. In between writing job applications I am in charge of cooking, laundry, ironing, cleaning, and the scary thing is that I’m starting to take pride in my work.
The fact that I have effectively become a house-husband is something that initially I found amusing. I joked about my new found love of the domestic, but ultimately it terrifies me. I am constantly plagued by the fear that this is my life. With the rejection letters/ e-mails/ phone calls piling up I have come to the conclusion that I ought to embrace my new found calling of house-husbandry, and you never know, if I distract myself with trying out new recipes and obsessing about keeping the hob clean, then maybe I shall suddenly find myself employed…