The Repetitive Process
Some weeks I have lots to write about, and the blog post is written in a moment. Those ones require the most editing, because in my joyful outpouring of whatever junk was cluttering the archives of my mind there is usually a fair bit of drivel. Other weeks it feels like nothing has happened, not matter how much we have achieved, and each sentence has to be extracted by force and nailed to the page. This week is one of those weeks. The Jabberwocky, long may he thunder, has sat on the driveway sulking under a layer of frost, while I have sat in the living room surfing under a layer of blankets; trying to find him entertainment for next year. The annual cycle of applications has begun once more, sending out hopeful emails to festival organisers and filling in...
Leamington Spa Street Food Collective
The best laid plans all start with an idea. The idea has been kicking around inside the Jabberwocky for a while, trying to find somewhere to get down to business and begin. It might not work out, but that’s no reason not to try. I think Yoda said that. Actually the quote is “Do or do not, there is no try”. Still, aside from Star Wars teaching me all the morals I’ll ever need, the point is that we need to do this. Recently Leamington Spa, or rather Old Town, down on the southern end of Leamington, was made a Portas Pilot town. For those not familiar with the concept it means there will be government funding, Mary Portas providing advice and a much needed revamp of southern Leamington Spa, which is currently regarded as the dodgy end of town....
Part Deux
Friends, Romans, countrymen. Doctors, IT consultants and gardeners. Ornithologists, philatelists and train-spotters. Miscreants, vagabonds and people called Rupert, it is time. I only wish we could have done more. Let me begin, therefore, with an apology for not having more room, more time and more money. If strangers posted anonymous cash donations through our door once in a while, we would not be in this situation. We are embarking on our second Jabberwocky tasting, and plying a few of you good folk with food, in the hopes that we will learn something from it. Whatever wisdom does seep forth I will be sure to share with you, even origin-of-the-universe-stuff, should it come up. I find myself in a rather poetic mood today, which appears to be influencing the need...
Food for thoughts
A recent survey has shown brownie, cooked to Barny’s Mum’s recipe and served in a styrofoam cup, to be the worlds most successful snack from a van. I know this because last night we had a bunch of friends round, installed Barny in the kitchen and becooked them. The plan was to exchange free food for challenging and thoughtful criticism, by means of the ever-trusted survey sheet. Mostly yesterday involved lots of cooking, or for me washing up, as Barny embarked on his eternal crusade to use every kitchen utensil we own in one sitting. We chopped and grated and sliced and battered and kneaded and whisked from the crack of noon right up until the last cupful had been downed, then tried not to panic as our guests discussed the finer nuances of sauce and...
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