A life spent dieting

It's sad but true. Looking at my online calorie counting guru, Nutracheck, and idly pinging up random data, I found that I first used the site in 2006. For the last five years, the depressing yoyo pattern presents itself: January: start diet to lose half a stone in time for June holiday. June: succeed (phew). September: weight going up. December: oh no....! And this year it was worse, a whole stone to lose, and currently slow progress, barely a pound a week, despite keeping rigidly to the calorie count, exercising and imbibing cidar vinegar in water.

Kim Cattrall recently said she is permanently on a diet, but at least with Kim you can see the visible results of that Herculean struggle. Like most women I am constantly trying to cast off a stone, or half a stone. I guess I'm lucky in that when I was young, children weren't under pressure to diet like they are today. I was a thin child but as a teenager I was a size 14  (US 10) and conscious that I couldn't wear certain clothes. It didn't cause me any angst until the night of the leaving school party, when a teacher and someone else made a reference to my weight, which caused me to storm off early and start my first diet.

I already knew all about dieting because my mother was always on one. In those days, diets were Limmits or Bisk meal replacement biscuits, that looked a bit like Chappie dog biscuits; PLJ, a very sharp lemon drink, and Ayds, squares of toffee that were supposed to have magical weight loss powers. She also bought Slimming Magazine which I would pore over, becoming very knowledgeable at a young age about calories, metabolism and the wisdom of Professor John Yudkin.

I remember that I ate a lot of sild on toast in that first diet, and that I very quickly lost half a stone. My friends came to meet me to go to Wood's (the nightclub de jour) and gasped when they saw my reveal. I suddenly had a waist, which I had proudly cinched in with a wide pink belt. 

Over the years I have tried many diets. The F Plan, with that sawdust-like "fibre filler", pease pudding and Granny Ann biscuits. Atkin's, which left me revolted after six weeks of meat, cream, sugar free jelly and no fruit and veg. South Beach. Perricone. More recently, Dukan, which is like Atkins but with a little fruit and veg, and the "Spent Diet," for the exhausted, which had such an overwhelming list of must buy's, none of it readily available, that a person would feel even more exhausted.

And of course, the only thing that works is eating less and exercising more, whether you do it with low carbs, high protein, low GI, Weightwatchers or calorie counting.

I finally cracked it in 2004 when I lost two and a half stone and got to a UK size 12  (US eight) which is where I am happiest. Since then, I have largely kept it off, but foolishly allowed a few too many pounds to creep up after the wedding last year, so now I am battling with a stone. Two pounds off this week, hurrah!

It's depressing how it has become our way of life. For me, I wake up happy when I am dieting. There's no guilt, unlike when I eat the "bad" things I love, like cheese, quiche, crisps or Scotch eggs. But I dread going into restaurants lest I am tempted, as the prospect of fish with vegetables is never very appealing. Today was a good day. A pub lunch, but my king prawn salad turned out to be a very low calorie option (no dressing) and so I had enough calories in the bank to savour some "real" food this evening. What are your dieting stories? Can anyone honestly say they have never dieted?

A few basics of online marketing

I buy nearly everything on line. I hate going into shops. Holidays, clothes, flights, groceries, books, cosmetics, you name it. So I'm quite a savvy online shopper, and know what makes a good site. If a site is bad - slow, cumbersome and badly designed, or allowing you to order without having goods in stock - then I don't go back to it.

A couple of things really annoy me because they are so basic.

The first is that you're prompted to go to a website by a newsletter, flyer or magazine article. But then you can't find the items you're interested in: they're not in stock and there's no facility to ask to be notified when they're back in stock. A flyer for a company called AWear.com fell out of Grazia today. I liked the look of some of the new trends. You would think that seeing as Grazia comes out on Tuesdays, AWear would have been ready for some interest. I searched for two of the items. Neither came up. I discovered that the Harriet skirt, shown in camel in the flyer, was only available in navy or black. As for the pin tuck military shirt in sand, well, the search using its reference number delivered no results, and I couldn't see the shirt in the gallery.

Which makes me think AWear is guilty of the second thing I hate: failing to update their website at the same time as a promotional campaign goes live.

I had another example of this last week. I received a brochure in the post for Peony, whose silk flowers my mum likes. She adores bluebells, so when I saw their new spring collection featured bluebells, I went immediately to their website, only to find it still featured the winter range and bluebells there were none.

I emailed them and they replied that the website was being updated "as we speak." Perhaps I would like to ring through with my order instead?  No way Jose. I would never give my credit card details to a stranger. Believe it or not, computers are far safer if you keep them up-to-date with security and virus software, and don't fall for silly scams.

Now that we're all used to shopping online for everything,  we've come to expect the highest standards. Delivery on a nominated day is vital. Who can take time off work to sit in all day, on the off-chance? Here I must single out Laura Ashley. Not only do they give you a definite time slot, their delivery people ring you on the way to your house to let you know they'll be here in xx minutes. Then they unpack the item so that you can inspect it  (and return it there and then) and they don't inflict all the packaging on you. Now that's the sort of service all online retailers should aspire to.

A few of my favourite things

1. Reading the bulb catalogue in winter
2. Decent cup of tea after a trip abroad.
3. Making a playlist.
4. My Radio 4 podcasts.
5. The anticipation around programmes like Strictly Come Dancing.
6. Getting dressed up on holiday.
7. Blue sky and sunshine on a cold winter's day.
8. Bluebell wood.
9. Looking at the menu in a restaurant.
10. The first stocks of summer.
11. The first morning in your holiday destination.

The Tragedy of the Nijinskys

As the title of my blog would suggest, I am an inveterate collector of facts and curios. A few years ago I read a review of a new book about the legendary dancer and choreographer Vaslav Nijinsky. Reader, I bought the book, and a great many others about him, and if I were ever to appear on Mastermind, this would be my specialist subject.

I have just finished a biography by his daughter Tamara. If she is still alive, she is  91 years old. She barely knew her father. His brief brilliant career ended when he was in his 20s and went mad. For the rest of his life he lived in asylums.

Nijinsky's life was tragic, but reading Tamara's book, I was transfixed by the tragedy of the Nijinsky women. This would make a fascinating film in itself.

Polish born Nijinsky, variously described in books as shy and sullen, transformed himself when he applied his make-up and elaborate costumes and danced. Although no footage exists, he was capable of remarkable feats of dancing and could apparently hang in the air as he performed entre chats. He was also a skilled mime and actor.

His lover was the famous impresario Diaghilev, who made his charge world famous as they travelled the world with the Ballets Russe.

Diaghilev was terrified of water so he didn't join the company on a long cruise to South America. And that was where Romola de Pulzsky, an ambitious socialite, the daughter of a famous Hungarian actress, saw her opportunity.

She relentlessly pursued Nijinsky, and, although they didn't have a language in common, succeeded in marrying him before the end of the voyage.

Diaghilev was stunned (as was the world) and Nijinsky's career took a deep nose dive. The first of his two daughters was born, Kyra, and he and Romola were trapped in Hungary at the start of the First World War. He then lost his mind, writing his famous diary as he did so.

Romola never gave up on a cure for her husband, or on trying to keep the legend of Nijinsky alive. She tirelessly roamed the world, serving lawsuits and meeting impressarios, trying to get books and films produced.

Nijinsky died in 1950 and was buried first in London and then later interred in Montmartre, Paris.

Romola continued to try to get her mother's villa back from the Hungarian government and to get Mikhail Baryshnikov cast in a film abnout Nijinsky. Meanwhile she was scarcely speaking to her mother or either of her daughters, now living in America, and they weren't speaking to each other. Tamara was estranged from her own daughter Kinga for years on end.

When Romola died, she was buried in a different country to her husband when she had desperately wanted to be buried with him. Tamara didn't go to her funeral.

Her dream of a film about Nijinsky was fulfilled in 1980, two years after her death, but it was horrendous and sank without trace. Baryshnikov was not in it.

She would have been happy to have been at London's V&A museum recently. An exhibition about the life and times of Diaghilev featured many original drawings and costumes of Nijinsky, and these drew the largest crowds. His legend still lives on.In April I will see his famous ballet, L'Apres Midi D'Un Faun for the fourth time in London in a Diaghilev Festival, plus the role he made synonymous, Le Spectre de la Rose (top).

Further reading
Nijinsky: Richard Buckle. The definitive biography.
The Diary of Vaslav Nijinsky
Nijinsky, a Leap Into Madness: Peter Ostwald. A modern study of Nijinsky's madness and how it would be treated now.
Romola and Vaslav: Tamara Nijinsky
Early Memoirs: Bronislava Nijinska. His sister's autobiography which portrays a different Vaslav, mischievious and fun loving.

Tea and Toast

I am fortunate enough to be in the sunshine this week, albeit on business. Yes it's the annual sales and marketing conference, this time in Anaheim, California. I won't tell you about the conference as it's all Top Secret, but I will let you in on the tea and toast situation.

As we all know, there is nothing better than a Nice Cup of Tea and a Sitdown. So every morning, ridiculously early, my colleagues and I report to the ballroom for breakfast.

The mostly veteran waiting staff attempt to herd us in a certain way, which has given reign to military speak about digging in and not advancing forward.

We then proceed to the lines of buffet: scrambled egg, eggs benedict, ham, cereal, oatmeal (as porridge is called) and waffles. But no toast.

Back at the table, we ask for toast. On the first day a glorious plate of toast arrived, enough for everyone. Hurrah! But yesterday, just two slices.

Meanwhile we have put our request in for tea.

Yesterday it arrived, nice colour, and we were all happy. Until we tasted it. Cinnamon?! It was some sort of weird fruit tea. The waitress was very apologetic saying she had used the wrong tea bags, and was kind enough to make us a new pot. But sadly we were getting told to move ourselves to the arena so we hardly had time to drink it.

At least now we have two BKMs  (best known methods): ask for toast for the table, and black tea also known as English breakfast tea,

See you soon!

It's snowed a bit, we're not prepared as always, get over it!

I was getting increasingly irritable at the BBC footage from St Pancras station. The reporter was doing his utmost to provoke good natured passengers who had been waiting for hours in the cold.
"What do you think about the way the UK has handled this?" he probed relentlessly, but the charming Europeans refused to give way. "Has it ruined your Christmas?"

Every time a train breaks down, we're told by peevish passengers that the train company should have had space blankets and drinks on board. Well seeing as snow is entirely random, not guaranteed, and hits these islands for, oh, two weeks a year, tops, what about passengers being more prepared instead, on the off chance?

Then there are the airports.Yes they could all invest hugely in snow ploughs and de-icing rigs and goodness knows what else. But there isn't that much money sculling around, is there? Can you imagine if BAA did just that, and then their profits went down and there was no snow. The newspapers would of course have a field day, and start trotting off statistics about the likelihood of snow.

The last thing that really bugs me is when people start talking about Finland and other countries, and how well they prepare. Yes, they have winter tyres, snow chains, the full Monty. But they also know that they WILL get snow for several month. It's a dead cert. So they have to prepare for it. For us it's like a roulette wheel at Las Vegas.

Photos show those people made of sterner stuff, J's friends the Orion Harriers, on their Sunday run through Epping forest.

Strictly Come Dancing: The Glittering Finale

Tonight our three finalists will emerge from the spray tanning booth for the last time, dripping in bling and dancing their little hearts out for the chance of lifting the very kitsch glitter ball trophy.

Kara Tointon was said to be the favourite on BBC Breakfast Time this morning, but really it's anyone's game. I can't remember a final where we have had three finalists of almost equal quality.

J is convinced that Tara will swing it. She is the most consistent and is the highest scorer overall. But I can see Pamela lifting that trophy.

Strange things happen in the final. Underdogs who were "ok" during the series but never blew us away, such as Chris Hollins and Tom Chambers, end up winning. The judges tend to give out tens to everyone, and it's up to the public to decide.

The good old public likes to go for an underdog. They prefer to vote for men. So Matt has a very good chance, given that he presents Country File and occasionally the One Show, and used to be on Blue Peter. He probably has a lot of the old dear vote.

The public also likes A Journey. So in terms of journey, Pamela has the best one. She's lost two stone, regained her va va voom, and looks fabulous at 61 to boot. Plus she was always so cheerful; always looking as if she loved the dancing, even in training.

So all Kara has going for her is being technically the best dancer. Is that enough to make the public vote for her? I don't think so. She hasn't had much of a journey: as I said before, dancing is probably in her blood, having been part of her stage school training, and she was always super fit. There's the hint of a romance with him and Artem, which gives her a few extra points with the public.

But at the risk of being wrong two weeks running, I'm going for Pamela to win. Although Matt could seize it too. I am a little nervous about Pamela's show dance, having seen the sketch of her dress on It Takes Two. A very conservative number, unlike Kara's which has been engineered for lifts galore. Tonight all will be revealed! (Not literally of course - the costume designers are far too skilled for that!).

Tree Spotting

I'm intrigued by other people's Christmas trees. I love looking through open curtains to see a tree glinting away. If your tree has ancient heirloom ornaments, I am very jealous. Particularly if it has those half cut out retro baubles (you know the ones).

Our own tree went up at the weekend. Sadly there are no heirloom ornaments. I quite often decide on a new colour theme and buy accordingly. Last year I added red baubles to the gold. I have a second tree, a white one with either silver and blue, or neon bright, baubles, but this year it's staying in its box owing to the fact that my colour choices for the dining room will be red and gold, so it wouldn't match.  (It's all very complicated.)

The only ornament that is vaguely heritage is the little bird which I bought about 10 years ago at the Kathe Wohlfarht Christmas shop in Oberammergau. Imagine, a shop that sells Christmas decorations all year round! It reminds me of a tiny bird we had on our tree when I was a child. That tree was in two sections and about 6 feet tall. The lights were huge coloured bulbs, some with a sugary effect. Mum gave the bottom section to Grandma, although it was a funny shape on its own, and for years the two parts of the tree were ceremoniously decorated in two separate houses in Plymouth. Our tree always had a very shabby fairy on top with a white crepe paper dress that had become beige over the years.

What's your Christmas tree like and what's your favourite ornament?

Strictly Come Dancing: Who goes? You decide

An intriguing results show tonight as two couples are eliminated. I'm going to make the bold claim that Kara and Scott will be the celebrities finding the exit sign.

Based on the judges' scores, the two lowest scoring couples were Gavin and Katya and Matt and Aliona.

I suspect however that Gavin and Matt probably have more fans than anyone else in the contest (with the exception of Pamela, who has built a  unique fan base) so I wouldn't be surprised if at least one of them stays. I would expect Scott to be the victim, and perhaps - here's a shocker - Kara.

She was the highest scorer and it will take a massive under performance by the public, but I still think it's possible, particularly if people who don't normally vote, like me, pick up the phone for their favourites. I actually voted for Matt last night because his routines have been thrilling, he's such a talented and nice guy, and the judges have under-scored him.

Scott peaked too soon and has been struggling to regain his form of three weeks ago. His Charleston was well executed but nothing exceptional. It won't hold in the memory in the way of the Chris Hollins / Ola Charleston, or even that of Pamela and James.

Kara is an interesting one. Having thrown herself the lifeline of an alleged romance with her partner, which always does well with the public, I still remain unmoved by her. To me, she looks like the product of a stage school background where dancing is a large part of the curriculum. She is an actress and very fit  (she featured in a health magazine recently.) So her "journey", to use that dreaded word, was less challenging than that of farmer, presenter and former gymnast Matt, or former comedienne turned psychologist Pamela.

Pamela is a complete revelation. Every week she turns in sensational routines and every week she remains joyful. Even in training, we rarely see her slumped and depressed. In these ageist times where everyone over the age of 50 tends to be dismissed as past it, particularly by the BBC,  I defy anyone to fail to be impressed by Pamela's energy, vivacity and youthfulness.

Only one graduate in Apprentice final five

It's almost arrivederci for two of the most enjoyable TV programmes of the autumn, Strictly Come Dancing ands The Apprentice. I'm going to preview both of the semi finals, starting with the Apprentice.

What's striking about the five finalists in the Apprentice is that four of them didn't go to university. So, rioting students, perhaps there is no need to waste three years doing Media Studies and then saddling yourself with a debt. The internet offers far more potential to budding entrepreneurs than we had in my day.

They do seem more entrepreneurial than the usual finalists. I think people were shocked when Liz went out, but although she came across as hugely capable, confident and talented, I didn't see that spark of ingenuity. Having read Lord Sugar's autobiography, I see now what sort of people would attract him. It's not necessarily just someone good at selling, because Liz was that (although as an investment banker, I was surprised she was so good at selling.)

He wants a hunger for selling and the ability to negotiate. Also the ability to see a pile of rubbish and sell it very quickly.How else did Amstrad become so successful.

I am beginning to fear that Stuart Baggs The Brand, the 21 year old with a field full of ponies  (!I'm not a one trick pony, I'm not even a two trick pony. I have a field full of ponies") or Joanna, the woman with the most irritating voice in Britain, are the two most likely Apprentices this year.

We were all amazed when Joanna made it through the first episode, and I was appalled by the way she kept yelling at Jamie last week. She is a woman with the interpersonal skills of a sledgehammer.

Meanwhile Jamie seems quite charming and is clearly a good negotiator, but comes across as slippery as a basket of eels. He's been his own boss for four years and doesn't like being told what to do, so I don't think he would do very well at Amscreen.

I like steely Stella but even though she did a fine rendition of Knees Up Mother Brown, Lord Sugar will always find fault with her for being 'corporate".The programme last night that looked at the five finalists and their backgrounds was quite an eye-opener on the Stella front. She had a very tough upbringing and was almost put in a children's home until her great aunt decided to take her in.

Then there's Chris. He's the only one who went to university. He comes across as a well meaning posh nitwit, really. But I was surprised to hear both Nick and Karren Brady sounding very positive about him. I felt sure there was nothing "strategic" about his offer to the tourist company last week to give them 20% of his team's total winnings. He had that rabbit in a headlight look, and I don't think he knew what else to offer.

Next week's episode is one of my favourites when Sugar's business acolytes interview the finalists and tear them to shreds. I'm thinking Stella and Joanna will stand up to it best. What do you think?

FIFA: Down with this sort of thing

If there's one thing that makes me mad, it's injustice of any kind. I am seething about the FIFA decision on the next World Cup locations, and the way England garnered just one vote.

On paper England was equal top of Fifa's own technical assessment of the four bids. We were top of an independent assessment of the best commercial bids and the presentation on Thursday was widely acclaimed as the best of the 2018 and 2022 bids.

None of that mattered however because FIFA, one of the most ridiculous, inept and discredited organisations in the world, was determined to give England a lesson. Why? Because our journalists had the temerity to expose the corruption at the heart of the whole process, and the fact that FIFA officials can be bribed for money.

I would have expected FIFA to have reacted to the news by sacking officials and issuing a statement saying they intended to get to the bottom of the allegations.

As you would expect from this bunch of idiots  (remember some of their foolishness during the World Cup), they didn't, but they took their revenge by punishing the whistleblowing nation.

And this nonsense about giving Qatar the World Cup to grow football globally! Yes with a population of just over one and a half million, I'm sure it will have a huge impact there.

Let's hope for the sake of soccer lovers thast Russia is able to deliver the stadia and hotels in time for 2018. They didn't score highly on this in the technical assessment.  But I suppose when, like Russia and Qatar, you have oligarchs and oil behind your bid, money is no object.

Strictly Come Dancing:The voting has gone to pot

Erin Boag was aghast on  Twitter and so was I. Scott Maslen's zombie-like performance, complete with errors, managed to score some nines from the judges. Er, hello? Surely that's like saying "ok Ann, you did all the steps - albeit badly - so let's give you nine points for trying."

I've never seen such a blatant case of favourtism. Compare that to the reception given to Matt Baker's superb dream sequence with the ghostly and ethereal Aliona Vilani. Struggling to find fault, the judges criticised his facial expressions.I couldn't understand, and nor could many on Twitter, why he didn't score any tens.

Frankly if Scott is struggling to manage SCD with EastEnders, then he shouldn't have taken on both. I'm getting tired of the constant references to his exhaustion. Get over it or get out.

I was hoping the petulant Gavin would be shown the door last night but instead Patsy went. And she had been expecting to go right from the start. Gavin seems in constant denial. After telling us all how he hated the jive,  and then performing it as if he hated it, he then accused the judges of under-scoring it. He wasn't sitting where we were. Craig was quite right when he said Gavin was now challenging Ann Widdecombe.

Ann has clearly nailed her colours to the mast (the Titanic's) by saying she intends to make it to the final, and win. Poor Anton is in two minds now. He's always wanted to claim the glitter ball, but with Widdy?

Lest we all think the lady is a soft cuddly marshmallow granny, let me remind you that she denies climate change, opposes abortion, women priests and equal rights for homosexuals.

I'm hoping the final will feature Matt and the divine Pamela, and no doubt Widdy will be there as well. It is, a psychologist opined this week, the public getting their own back at stuffy judges.

(Another) Amazing Lunch: The Ledbury

The Ledbury is a Michelin two star restaurant in Notting Hill, London. Chef Brett Graham started cooking in a simple fish restaurant in Newcastle, Australia, aged 15.After moving to Sydney for three years, he came to the UK and was Young Chef of the Year in 2002. The Ledbury was awarded a Michelin star in its first year, and the two stars it now has are well deserved.

Quite simply, the food is sublime!

Such amazing textures and depth of flavours. My starter of Ceviche of Hand Dived Scallops with Seaweed and Herb Oil, Kohlrabi and Frozen Horseradish danced and sang in my mouth. There was a wonderful explosion of taste and texture, with the gently thawing horseradish and the delicate aniseed flavour of the seaweed. Quite extraordinary.

Stop the Pigeon

My main course was Poached Breast and Confit Legs of Pigeon with Cevennes Onions, Foie Gras and Liquorice. The confit legs arrived on a separate plate, artfully arranged on twigs.  Now I don't normally eat offal, but the pigeon heart and foie gras, on the skewer, were so melting and delicate I would happily have devoured a flock of pigeons.
  

The Pigeon's confit legs

We sampled the cheese trolley before the dessert. Excellent selection of cheeses and none of that "washed in wine" nonsense. I navigated around the minefield that is a Goat Alert, although I did partake of the goat with the chef's amuse bouche, but fortunately it was very mild and not too goaty.

My dessert was Brown Sugar Tart with Muscat Grapes and Stem Ginger Ice Cream. The ginger of the ice cream was so piquant against the sweetness of the tart. A marriage made in heaven.

I would happily return to The Ledbury. Superb service, a lady Sommelier, and a beautiful room. What more could you ask for? I would put it on a par with Gidleigh Park (but more experimental), and infinitely better than the over-starred Le Manoir Quat'Saisons.

The story of the rock salt on our roads

As we were eating our breakfast today, and I was driving J mad by asking what a tiger would do if it came across Molly (a much smaller and domesticated version of the species), the TV news channel was earnestly talking about salt and how councils are stocking up.

I was distracted from the tiger argument (much to J's relief) by the discovery that salt is bought from Egypt. I then Googled "wheere does road salt come from?" and it became one of those fascinating and immersing topics.

My mum, the Giz, was yesterday pricing bags of salt v grit in her local hardware store.

I discovered that rock salt has formed at various times in the geological past as a result of the drying up of the sea. The evaporating water left behind beds of sea-salt.   In northern Europe, thick deposits of rock salt were lain down during Permian imes (290 million years ago) across a wide area stretching from eastern England, under the North Sea eastwerds to the Netherlands, Germany, Denmark and Poland (Poland is famous for its salt mines).

In the UK, salt of Permian age is mined in Cleveland. Younger salt beds, of Triassic age (200-250 million years old) is mined from the Cheshire basin, Cumbria and northern Ireland.

Even more fascinating, rock salt mines have the right conditions to make excellent repositories for archive documents.

And the good news is, according to the Salt Association, we're not likely to run out of salt. The UK's salt mines have about 225km (140 miles) of tunnels - almost as long as the M5 motorway. And that's without turning to countries like Spain and Egypt for supplies. All we have to hope is that our councils have learned from the lessons of earlier this year and stocked up.

No stirring

Today is Stir Up Sunday, the day for making your own Christmas puddings. Stir Up Sunday is also the informal term for the last Sunday before Advent. Tradition has it that every member of the family should have a stir and make a wish. And the length of time before now and Christmas means the pudding has plenty of time to mellow and mature.

There won't be any stirring in my household, I'm afraid. Nobody seems to like Christmas pudding. I don't mind it because I am an absolute stickler for tradition, but this year I've bought an individual pudding from Lakeland. It isn't the round shape shown in the picture - does anyone ever make them this shape nowadays?

My mum used to occasionally make her own Christmas puddings and Christmas cake. But it was a thankless task because my elder brother didn't like nuts or peel, and the younger brother wasn't keen on marzipan.

I doubt if very many people at all will be stirring up the tradition today. A survey said this week that most of us  have no confidence about cooking, and millions of pounds' worth of home-made meals end up in the bin before they're eaten, including Christmas puddings (which cost an average of £10 to make.)

Will you be making your own pud and how do you like it served? Clotted cream was always the gold stansdard in my Devonian childhood, although I let the side down by wanting "Nestle's cream". I can't stand brandy butter and custard seems to make it a very average delight. I discovered last year you could still get a type of Nestle's cream, so I'm afraid I will be having that with my Lakeland "Billy No Mates" pudding.

The Scent of a Woman

How many times have you fallen in love with the idea of something - and then found the reality doesn't deliver?

For me it was a recent experience with a perfume.

I have discovered perfume blogs - and what heaven they are! Such knowledgeable people, writing about top notes and dry downs, and so wittily and well written.

I used to be a mega perfume fan and would eagerly dash off to stores which had the first supplies of hot new releases, among them, I remember, Knowing, which I still love; Boudoir and Cabotine de Gres (pooh!).

Anyway,  most of the perfume blogs have a very good search function so I spent ages happily finding old perfumes I used to wear and reading the reviews.

I'd noticed in a couple of fiction books I was reading that the heroines seemed to be synonymous with a fragrance called Fracas. So I started looking it up.

It's in the top 10 of the world's top perfumes in the exellent book Perfumes: The A-Z guide by Tania Sanchez and Luca Turin.

I saw from blogs and comments that it's very distinctive; you have to be in the mood to wear it; it is extremely sexy. "White flower heaven,"  "class in a bottle" "rich, fragrant, captivating" are a few of the comments.

The perfume, by Robert Piguet, dates from 1948 but is available from some stores including Harrod's.

I was in a frenzy of anticipation to try it and it seemed like an eternity before I could get into Harrod's to try it.

Some of the blogs caution that you should be sparing with Fracas as it can be overpowering. So I made sure I only had a small squirt.

And what a disappointment!

Perfectly pleasant but somewhat insipid. No sign of the punch I was expecting. I recognised the smell instantly: it's hard to describe but you will have smelt it on others. I kept sniffing my wrist hoping the dry down was going to be better, but no, it faded away like a sigh.

But what this exercise did do was re-ignite my interest in perfumes. I am now reading up on the latest trends, which, folks are oud and amber, and look forward to trying new releases for Christmas. And maybe I will start to review them here.

My all-time favourites are Diorella and Knowing, both chypres. I wish Dior would bring back Diorella in eau de parfum formulation! Considering it is also in the world's top 10 fragrances, it's surprising you can only get it in eau de toilette.

I also remember nostalgically other perfumes which were all the rage when I was young, which I didn't wear at the time: Aqua Manda, Kiku (in its round yellow bottles), Anais Anais and In Love by Hartnell.  My mum's neighbour used to wear Coty's L'Aimant and we always knew when Holly our cat had been in her house because she stank of it aftewards!

Here are the perfumes of my life. What are yours?

The perfumes of my life

The first ones - pre-teen and teenage:

Pretty Peach by Avon

Sea Jade by Yardley

Midnight by Dorothy Gray

Charlie by Revlon

In my 20's

Cinnabar by Estee Lauder

L'Eau d'Issey by Issey Miyake

Joy

Chanel No 5

Chanel Cristalle

Chanel No 19

Oscar de la Renta

In my 30's

Cabotine de Gres by Gres

Lumiere by Rochas

Byzance by Rochas

Magie Noire by Lancome

Jicky by Guerlain

Violette by Penhaligon's

Diorella by Dior

Boudoir by Vivienne Westwood

Flowerbombe by Viktor & Rolf

In my 40s

Aromatics Elixir by Clinique

Eau Dynamisante by Clarins

Diorissimo by Dior

Knowing by Estee Lauder

Malabah by Penhaligon's

Some perfume blogs to visit:

http://perfumesmellinthings.blogspot.com/

http://perfumeshrine.blogspot.com/

http://boisdejasmin.typepad.com/

The Elizabeth Hurley Diet

I am on what I call the Elizabeth Hurley diet. I am not eating the same things as La Hurley, although there has been a fair bit of intelligence about how she keeps her trim figure. A few raisins; tea plates instead of dinner plates, and trips to Holland & Barrett for "detox supplies" is what I have gleaned.

No, what I mean by the Elizabeth Hurley diet is that when I want to be tempted and eat something, I think: "would Elizabeth do that?" The answer is invariably No, because she's always getting in shape for another bikini shoot (even though she says every year she's getting too old).

I find it works a treat!

If you don't empathise with Hurley, you could perhaps try the Kate Moss diet. This centres around her statement: "Nothing tastes as good as thin feels."

Any other tips?

Autumn Walk

We had a quick walk in the forest today to appreciate the colours. For J it was also an opportunity to try his new camera and lens.

A day to remember

J with the red roses

I have wanted to go to Raymond Blanc's Le Manoir Aux Quat' Saisons for a long time, so with a milestone birthday this year I knew I had the perfect opportunity.

It was booked back in April and we finally got there yesterday, day of my birthday.

The attention to detail is second to none. The moment we arrived, staff came out to welcome us and take our cases. We were then shown straight to our room. No nonsense with checking in and presenting credit cards!

Our room, Crystal, was wonderful. We had the celebration package and a table groaned with twelve perfect Grand Prix roses, a bottle of Champagne on ice, a bottle of Madeira, hand-made chocolates and a selection of fruit.

The marbled bathroom had a huge walk-shower, a huge bath with candles and big crystal bottles of unguents plus heavenly scented slabs of soap.

We immediately went for a walk in the gardens to catch the last tentative rays of sunshine. Here is my picture of the lily pond in the Japanese garden.

There are wonderful sculptures everywhere, reclining figures, figures relaxing with books. At this time of year the main vegetables growing in the veg beds were chard, beetroot and cabbage.

After a heavenly scented bath with candles and Strictly Come Dancing (Jimi voted off -a travesty!), we had a pre-dinner apertif and perused the menu. There were three options: the decouverte tasting menu, the classic menu and the a la carte menu of seasonal specialities. We chose the latter.

Now, if I am brutally honest, I must tell you that the food didn't quite live up to expectations. One of the things I love most about haute cuisine is the complex layering of flavours and the unexpected frisson of delight when you sample something unexpected. But reader, I must tell you, the food at Le Manoir was one-dimensional. The menu promised all sorts of exotic capers but in the main one or two flavours dominated and drowned out the rest.

Cauliflower soup

Chef Gary Jones' amuse bouche was a cup and saucer of cauliflower soup, a confident start with a strong garlic truffle oil providing the oomph that cauliflower needs. 

We both chose plancha-seared Cornish lobster with warm Jersey Royal potatoes, Oscietra caviar, cardamom and red pepper jus.

Cornish lobster

My initial reaction was that the heavy hitter in the cauliflower soup was also at play here, drowning out the flavour of the lobster. J said quite spontaneously that the lobster was a little disappointing.

My duck

My main was roasted Gressingham duck breast with braised chicory and confit of yuzu fruit; jasmine tea and raisin sauce. This was ruined by the very thin sauce poured over the duck and a very powerful orange sauce. Although orange isn't mentioned anywhere, I guess yuzu fruit must taste very similar. The duck itself was a little tough and the vegetables actually quite soft.

J's beef

J fared better with sirloin of beef, which isn't shown on the online menu so I can't tell you everything it came with. In typical J fashion, he did note there could have been more potatoes.

We didn't have a dessert but went straight to the cheese board. The trolley was left languishing by our table for about 10 minutes before the waiter said "oh, looks like I'd better do this." Fortunately the cheeses were not too fragrant, otherwise it may have been a little off putting for the couple next to us.

A nice touch was the banana and passion fruit sorbet complete with candle and Happy Birthday motif for me.


Rounded off with "chocolate discovery" for me (hot chocolate) and tea for J in the lounge - which took about 30 minutes to materialise -  a thoroughly lovely experience but somehow making me think the chef has maybe become a little complacent. It was nowhere as good as Gidleigh Park in Devon, which also has two Michelin stars, where I went a few weeks ago.

Waking this morning, tea arrived dead on 8am as scheduled and breakfast was delicious. We plumped for the full English but Le Manoir excels in healthy choices with delicious fruit salads and seeds, fruits and nuts all meticulously labelled with their countries of origin. The sausage was, I am sure, 90% meat with none of that nasty rusk. 



All in all, a fabulous experience but if Le Manoir is to deliver Raymond Blanc's vision of unsurpassed customer service and gastronomy, they need to step up just a gear or two.

A Strictly Come Dancing travesty prepares to unfold

I have been very restrained up to now and not mentioned Strictly Come Dancing, or The Apprentice ("what's that?") once.

But now that the glitter has settled on SCD, and we know who's good and who we like and don't like, I couldn't resist adding my two'pennorth.

Strictly Come Dancing, for the benefit of my US chums, is the TV show that led to what you call "Dancing with the Stars." The UK version includes two of the judges who grace your show, Len and Bruno, plus we have the acerbic Craig Revel-Horwood - "in three words, my darling, OMG" - and the foolish former contestant and Muttley impersonator Alesha Dixon - "you was brilliant."

This year the BBC changed the rules and the public decides who goes out each week. You will remember that previously there was a dance-off between the bottom two, and then the judges decided. The hapless John Sergeant managed to survive for quite a while with the public keeping him safe, but eventually quit when he realised there was a chance he might end up in the final.

This year the judges have no decision-making power, and so I am convinced that Ann Widdecombe, the Tory MP, will make, and possibly win, the final.

I don't deny that it is very entertaining seeing the routine that Anton Du Beke creates each week. Highlights have included Ann being lowered to the floor in a harness like a gigantic flapping Dumbo, and on Saturday, in a memorable paso doble, being hurled to the floor and then bouncing  like a scene from The Dam Buster, followed by Anton swinging her around like a sack of potatoes (pictured.)

It is, as Len said on It Takes Two, rather like a motorway crash when you're on the other side of the road but you can't help looking.

I'm sure the BBC changed the rules to encourage more votes to make more money. Many people are obviously keen to keep Ann in, and unlike John Sergeant, she doesn't seem abashed about not being very good.

But we need to remind ourselves this is a dance competition, and there are contestants who are fabulously good, and amaze us with their stunning routines each week. I don't think it will be fair if Widdecombe wins at the expense of Scott Maslen, Jimi Mistry, Pamela Stephenson or Matt Baker, all outstanding in my view. And bravo to Pamela for showing that women over the age of 60 can still be vibrant, sexy and fabulous.