The OLRC: All in Good Taste

Those of you headed for a day out in Kingston Upon Thames may be interested in the Old London Road Café, situated at 52, Old London Road. It is but five minutes walk from Kingston train station, on the same stretch of ground as the famed red telephone box installation. With its bare wooden floors and spare furnishings, the OLRC interior resembles a cool hangout from the 1950’s, the sort that might have been filled with ultra-fashionable types sipping coffee, one time. But OLRC welcomes people of all ages and configurations – gracious! They even let me in: and did I enjoy it? I downed a delicious vegan melt, with vegan cheese and bacon that tasted of, er, cheese and bacon, all served with a heavenly side salad. Bathroom facilities are in situ, though limited. But Kingston town centre is just a walk away. So, next time you pass this way, give the fast-foodies and chains a miss, and enjoy this slice of heaven on Old London Road, Kingston.

From their collection to mine: Cyberjammies

As a fan of all things nocturnal, I spend more time in nightwear than any other attire, in fact, I possess more downtime garments than any other type. And like any other fanatic, I am ever on the lookout to add to my collection. Today, this is why I am flying the flag for Cyberjammies, a brand that came to my notice when I happened upon a delectable Cyberjammies night shirt in a local store. Such is the quality and style of the piece, that I’ve since added this nightie from their Nora Rose collection to my collection. (Alas, I do not look like the model in the picture, but one can hope.) In a world where the majority of feminine bed garments offer little choice between looking like a dominatrix or a Victorian matron, Cyberjammies simply ticks all the boxes: attractive, comfortable and functional, and within reach of the average feminine pocket. The garments are made of Modal, a plant-based material, in combo with either viscose or cotton, which feels great on the skin. And they are available online. Oh, and they cater for men and children, also. Check out their site for an eye-catching catching collection of night shirts, nighties, jammies, dressing gowns, loungewear, slippers and much more. Over to you.
https://cyberjammies.com/collections/women

The Memento Mori

I have recently watched Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skulls and oh, what glorious fun it is! In addition to the evergreen Harrison Ford, the plot draws together a number of strands involving archaeology and mythology and intriguingly, the crystal skull. In the narrative, there is at least one reference to explorer FA Mitchell-Hedges, who claimed to have found an iconic crystal skull in South America in the 1920’s. Controversy surrounds the skull: Mitchell-Hedges did not present it to the world until the 1940’s and it has since been found to bear modern tool markings. Whatever the truth, there is no doubting the emotive response to a skull. The most fundamental part of our anatomies, it encases our thinking organ and four out of five of our sense organs. No wonder then that devoid of our fleshly bits, it has become the symbol for death, horror and Halloween. The Mexican nation has placed it as the central symbol for their Day of the Dead rituals and in the seventeenth century, artists made it the centre piece of the memento mori. You know the type of painting, a lush arrangement of luxury (by seventeenth-century standards) items, books, musical instruments, jewels and, plonked in their midst, a great and grinning skull, a reminder of the end we all come to. On that cheerful note, I will finish. Look out for my next gothic preamble.

The Cat: Deity or Demon?

This titular beast has ever occupied a polarised place in history. In ancient Egypt, the cat was revered, the biological embodiment of Bastet, the feline-faced deity its denizens worshipped. Since the days of the pyramids, the cat has veered between the utilitarian – incomparable at keeping at bay the diaspora of rodents that ever follow humanity – and the demonic. By medieval times, the deified cat had been rebranded as a “witch’s familiar”, the furry animal that followed closely at the heels of whatever elderly lady kept it at her fireside, the black cat being particularly suspect. Indeed, so many of these coal-hued beasties were put to death alongside their owners, that the genetic line almost died out and totally black cats are a rarity today. And seeing one is supposed to be lucky or unlucky, I’m never sure which. Today, the cat occupies a spectrum between glamorous fashion accessory and cuddly domestic pet. But no matter how many socializations we project upon the beast, the cat will ever retain an element of gothic nous. You see, the cat prefers to prowl the nocturnal hours and sleep the daylight shift, an ever-suspect social trait. While cartoonists create ever more Mogs and Bagpusses, the cat will always retain an air of the feral and mysterious, a hint of enchantment, and the whispers of an arcane world where secrets await discovery.

Traitors 3, the perfect gothic thriller

Traitors 3 has just kicked off with a glorious bang, a wondrous start to 2025. All the gothic memes and themes are present; the perilous journey that three competitors fail to survive, sibling rivalry (a fabulous addendum by the producers) and the castle, in this case a hokum, nineteenth-century, mock-baronial pile nestling in the sumptuous Scottish Highlands. Ah yes, Ardross Castle is all turrets and battlements on the outside, and the inside a trove of deer antlers, suits of armour, button-leather Ottomans, memento mori both sculpted and painted and framed in gilt: what’s not to love? And the high priestess? With her midnight-black hair and death-pale face, Claudia Winkleman adds a glittering dash of medieval nous. Add moonlight – sorry, floodlight, cloaked and hooded figures, a round table and numerous references to murder and banishment, and you’ve got the perfect mix for weeks of intrigue, treachery and the most shocking of revelations.
In fact, the only missing gothic trope is the presence of a cat – more about that in a further post.

A glorious end of year to all readers.

Yes, it’s that time again, 28 days since the last lunar event.
Just now we are hailing the “cold moon” in the sky.
For cold, read December.
Oddly, the name does not have any warm connotations of birth, re-birth or Nativity. It simply says what it is, the moon that hails the three coldest months of the year, December, followed by that deadly duo, January and February. The lack of reference to jolly Saturnalia is most likely because the 13-times yearly lunar cycles is rarely in synch with the quarterly solar calender, that is, the two solstices, plus the longest day and the shortest day. But whatever the reason, we can simply enjoy the lovely lustre of the December moon adding a touch of cosmic nous to the countless millions of artificial twinkles that grace our planet at this time. Until the light of 2025 sheds upon us all, a glorious end of year to all readers.

A super-sized Christmas to you

‘I hate Christmas,' said my sister angrily, one Christmas morning. 'I hate it; I wish they'd abolish it.'
'Yup, it's all humbug,' I replied, in effort to empathise. 
Friend, for me, Christmas is simply a time for loosening the belt, for eating and sleeping a bit more and working a bit less, for joining in family/friend networks, finishing books (both the reading and the writing of) and watching loads of silly DVDs. Which is why, a little later, I watched in growing astonishment as said sister, still in red/white Christmas jammies, went and steam-ironed lengths of mysterious, red-tinged net fabric and tied them into super-sized bows at the backs of the dining chairs. While I am far from bearing the mindset of Charles Dickens's famous miser, I do wonder at the mentality of a woman who holds a job as a TA, and looks after a husband, a cat and two daughters all at once, who grumbles vitriolically at the sheer amount of work that goes into the season of goodwill, and then who can still find it in her to transform her rational home into a Hollywood-ish, White (and red)  Christmas theme park.  And yes, I've said many times that Christmas is a feast of irrationality. But on that occasion, my sister was beyond all reason so I stood in solidarity, supporting her fantasy of the "perfect" Christmas. Whatever, we had a wonderful time that year, and we have upheld that ethos ever since, super-sized bows or no.
Whoever you are, whatever you do, a super-sized Christmas to you.