Even though Crystal Palace is only just far enough from where I live to work up a sweat, and that’s mainly because it’s uphill, I don’t go there nearly as often as I might. So I was pleasantly surprised to find it full of even more interesting junk shops and nice cafes/restaurants than last time and, of course,  amazing views. On that Sunday, the ambiance was humming with a relaxed local vibe – busy, but not the sort of oppressive busy you get in East Dulwich on a Saturday. Just about the perfect amount for a sunny Sunday.

Here’s some of the bits that caught my eye:

Cool junk shop with serious coffee in the front. 32 Church Rd.

After the junk-shop-cum-coffee-shop, this time a pub-cum-vintage-clothes shop.

Whaddaya know? Another pub.

Look! An old-fashioned 'modern' barber's pole!

I'm assuming this place is owned by someone called Julie. And that it sells goods that have been made by hand. Looked pretty. 3 Belvedere Rd.

As seen in Herne Hill and East Dulwich. The cinnamon pastries are a personal favourite.

Urban Orient, 74 Westow St, 020 8616 4511. Scene of impromptu siu mai snack. Also do Bahn Mi, which seem to be having a moment.

South London stalwart. Fantastic bookshop. One of husband's favourites (and he really likes a nice bookshop).

Well, not really all that secret.

Vegetarian cafe. But nice despite that.

Every aspiring urban village has to have a bike shop.

Another pub. Looked like they do a nice Sunday lunch.

My friend Lou is very excited about the cheese here.

Old-fashioned (in a good way) brasserie.

No idea if this place is any good or not, but it looked fancy. Anyone eaten there?

Was lucky enough to review this place last summer. One of the loveliest Sunday lunches I had all year. Big on English prodcue, including the sparklilng wines.

Treasure trove on about eight different floors. I own a v nice 1970s Czech factory clock and a Polish film poster (birthday present) from here.

Nearly impulse-bought a cheese dish. As you do.

P.S. Overheard on Westow Street: ‘So where’s the actual Palace?’ – You’re 76 years too late, mate.

1. visit all food markets in South London, on foot, especially: Maltby Street; Brockley Market; Brixton; Oval; West Norwood monthly Feast… and any more I’ve missed.

probability of happening: 10/10  (Maltby Street already conquered on 31 Dec, but will be back)

2. find creative people to collaborate with, especially someone who can help me with more creative design of blog or website

probability: 3/10

2b. blog more regularly and forcefully (and entertainingly and grammatically) and to pack my blog with wit, wisdom, useful hyper-local info, and a few gags

probability: 6/10 for first two months then 1/10 thereafter (more likely if collaborator found)

3. visit a new city, preferably one not in this country

probability: 2/10 (may rely on a benefactor)

3b. or take the train to Berlin to visit friends

probability: 2/10 (may also rely on benefactor. And friends actually wanting to see me)

4. do a proper, big, country walk. possibly involving hills and staying overnight in a lovely inn with great ales (hey, no one said New Year’s resolutions had to be all about austerity and misery)

probability: evens (depends on finances, kids, and MCFC fixtures list)

5. try to say positive things instead of negative ones

probability: 1/10 (I make this resolution every year, yet remain a cynic)

6. perfect homemade limoncello to standard it can be given as gifts

probability: 9/10 (how wrong can you go with lemon, sugar, and lots of vodka?)

6b. add fudge and shortbread to repertoire for similar reasons (friends – you have been warned)

probability: 9/10 for fudge (how wrong can you go with sugar and fat?) 3/10 for shortbread (there’s nothing more disappointing than shit shortbread)

7. Eat less, exercise more. Yes, that old chestnut. But I’m hoping that committing myself to the Moonwalk in May (walking 26-point-whatever miles overnight across London) will contribute to the second bit of this. Unfortunately all my practice walks so far seem to terminate at food markets.

probability: a hopeful 7/10

8. Keep tabs on my children’s schoolwork and force them to do those extra revision workbooks like the pushy middle class parent I aspire to be. I’ve been giving them too much of an easy ride of late.

probability: 8/10 spring term; 3/10 summer term; 8/10 first half of xmas term; 3/10 second half of xmas term.

9. Finally actually finish writing a short story

Probability: 2/10 Because the notebooks full of half-written ones don’t count

9b. or get another non-fiction book proposal accepted

Probability: 2/10   These days you need several thousand Twitter followers to be a viable option for publishers. C’mon guys, start buying more books! (or, alternatively, follow me on Twitter *winking-face-emoticon*)

10. Spend more time with, and be more attentive to the needs of, friends and family.

Probability: 4/10 Why would they want to spend more time with me?

11. go to live comedy. I used to do this a lot BC (before children). And it was fun. Comedy is clever. Laughing is nice.

Probability: 9/10  Seem to be lots of small (ie vaguely affordable) comedy clubs opening up in South East London so there’s really no excuse now.

11b. try to remember some of the other things I used to enjoy doing. And do them.

Probability: 1/10 Personality now completely subservient to family/social expectations. eg apparently I am now too old/mumsy to wear DMs.

12. For the last one I was going to go with something like ‘be nice to people’, ‘smile more’, ‘do something for charity’, or ‘be braver’, ‘take more personal/professional risks’, ‘don’t worry about what other people think of you’, ‘live life to the full as if every day was your last’… yada yada… but instead I’ll go with ‘put the blinds up in the kitchen’ in the hope that I’ll be able to cross that one off before the end of Jan and therefore start the year feeling good about myself. I only bought them a month ago, after all.

Probability: 10/10

Obviously targets like ‘get a job’ ‘work hard’ and ‘earn some money’ are still in there, but seem largely beyond my control.

1 mince pies

This is a bit of Christmas I like to start early. In fact I had my first 2011 mince pie in October when the Heston ones hit Waitrose (verdict: not amazing) and have been a conscientious consumer ever since.

For those SE22 residents who keep asking which are the best mincers in the area, I’d have to say that we are spoilt for choice (much better standards than the disappointing hot cross buns earlier this year). It’s only a personal preference, but I’m partial to the Blackbird Bakery crumble topped mince pies (50p, but you do need to eat two), and find the ultra-deep Cheeseblock mince pies, though lovely, perhaps ever so slightly heavy on the mince meat. EDD had some nice homemade ones in recently but seem to have changed supplier this week. And am yet to sample Jacks, Franklins or anyone else’s.

I was also pleased to read that it’s good luck to eat a mince pie every day during the 12 days of Christmas. So I’m reclassifying the next 10 days as ‘training’.

1b Christmas puddings

Have decided against eBaying my Heston ‘hidden orange’ xmas pudding on the grounds that a) the eBay stories are all hype anyway b) it’s only a mini one and 3) I’d quite like to eat it. Have also had nice puds from Cartmel (who the owner of Franklins is trying to convince me were the inventors of the sticky toffee pudding) and Dutchy’s originals, but the Christmas Pudding ice cream at The Actress pub, SE22 is a sensation.

2 Alcohol

Although I’m rubbish at making my own mince pies, or puddings, or cakes, or any of the other amazing things I keep reading about other bloggers doing, I have managed to make my own brandy butter (road tested last night with aforementioned Cartmel xmas pud – and no it’s not weird to just have a mini xmas pud for your tea). Plus I have finally got round to making limoncello to Silvana Franco’s recipe. It’s about priorities you see.

In fact, as I type, I’m waiting for the sugar syrup to cool so I can add it to my Kilner jar of lemon peel and vodka. 50/50 whether I can wait another 2 weeks for it to be ready to drink though.

I’ve also stocked up on half price prosecco for impromptu parties (three new ones have sprung up in the past week – thank you kind people, I will be attending them all), as well as a cheap blended whisky and an expensive ginger wine for whisky macs. (Why don’t bars, even good ones, have ginger wine?)

Silvana’s limoncello recipe

Blogger showing off by making own mincemeat

3 Presents

Having spent everything I’m likely to earn this month and last on getting the car fixed – and I don’t even like driving – my husband and I will not be buying each other xmas presents this year. Which is one less thing to do or, more positively, one more thing ticked off the to-do list. (It’s all about perspective)

3b Unfortunately my recession-busting policy of avoiding shops or magazines full of nice things is not proving conducive to actually buying presents for other people. Conversely I’m spending a week working on a glossy consumer magazine 1 min from Oxford St.

4 Christmas Radio Times

Yep. Even though it doesn’t actually kick in till next weekend I bought it last weekend. Got to get a head start on the rest of the family to go through it, annotate it, diarise Christmas specials and insert Post Its in order to ‘bagsy’ programmes/time slots.

5 Christmas end of  term concerts etc

Done.

Son’s school hasn’t twigged that if you put small people in front of rows of people who are taller than them when sitting down, only the people in the front row will be able to see anything at all. Nine years and two children and I reckon I’ve actually seen three of their shows.

At my daughter’s school concert last week, I was horrified to be handed a programme with 26 items on it… until I realised there were two sheets stapled together and that there were in fact 69 pieces (we snuck out after about 20)

6 Tree

To be honest, I’d have preferred to wait another week but my husband demanded one so my daughter and I carried one back from the high street and my son decorated it. And we’ve all been out  of the house since. Hmmm.

7 Turkey

First time I’ll have had turkey for about 3 years. Ordered early Nov so we could forget about it and not feel under pressure. Unfortunately this has backfired, creating a general complacency that has meant nothing much else has been done preparation wise. But whatever happens, we will have the turkey.

8 Cards

Back when I had the time and creative nous to make my own, this used to be a fun undertaking. Now it’s a race against time.

And although I have a basket full of end-of-packs and over-orders left from past years, convention seems to dictate that each year you choose a single design and send that to all your friends as sort of signature statement, not send different cards to everyone.

9 Proper xmas shows, in a theatre. with proper actors

Thanks to Southwark residents’ discount, I’ll be attending an Indian reworking of the Snow Queen at the Unicorn Theatre. (Curiously, this is one of a long list of great buildings that I have only ever visited as building sites, a list which includes the Bilbao Guggenheim and Hong Kong Airport.)

10 Reinforce Father Christmas myth in hope we can get away with it for another year

So far so good. Amazingly. Have even ordered a personalised letter from NSPCC (for a donation) as back up. Just shows that however old you are, you believe what you want to believe.

NSPCC santa letter

I am writing to tell you that I am over you.

I’ve spent the past month since you unceremoniously dumped me working through my feelings about you. Not that you told me we were over until I’d already worked it out – you just stopped returning my calls.

I’ve been thinking back to the heady days earlier this year when you showered me with treats and promises, and made me feel like you cared. I now see that you were little more than a summer romance. It was a brief affair, but I’ll admit it, it was fun while it lasted.

It began, as these things so often do, with the unnatural heat of April, followed by exciting new contacts in May, and satisfying AND well-paid work in June and July. There have been joyful birthday celebrations for some of my dearest friends, milestone achievements by my children, simple but idyllic holidays, memorable meals, and lots of new friends who I hope I’ll keep seeing long after you. Then I think of all the promises you made, the tantalising worlds you showed me. Worlds of regular work, stimulating colleagues, disposable income, good food (lots of good food), lunch meetings, self-respect, sought opinion, valued experience… all built on sand.

I haven’t heard who you are with now, but I’m certain it’s no one I know. You’ve treated many of my friends as badly as you have me. Some of them much worse.

But I want you to know that whatever you are up to, I have moved on. I’ve bought my 2012 diary and I’m filling it in. There are already two parties in January to look forward to, the Moonwalk challenge in May, the distraction of the Olympics, and of course the uncoiling of the days once they’ve passed their shortest in a fortnight’s time.

At least 2012 isn’t leading me on like you did. It has been honest about how difficult things will be. It will be hard work and we will be poor; it will seem like the world is against us; there will be times when I’ll doubt whether we’ll make it through. But it is also offering the chance to refocus, to try to remember who I am.

And so, 2011, I wish you all the best for your last 25 days, I sincerely do. Forgive me, though, if I am slow to enter into the Christmas spirit and celebrate your big moment. However, come 11.59pm on 31 December I will be ready, glass charged, not to drown my sorrows, but to toast your demise.

Slàinte!

Me x

10% ‘doing research’ on Twitter in lieu of having colleagues or other grown ups to talk to. Or my own watercooler

10% sending pitches/enquiries/spec CV

8% immediately leaping on any new emails in hope that they are replies to pitches

4% being disappointed

8% checking my ‘junk’ folder because clearly all the replies to pitches must have gone in there

4% being disappointed

1% excitedly answering phone to an unknown number assuming it must be something about work

1% discovering it’s just my daughter calling from a friend’s mobile because she’s out of credit again

2% patronising local independent traders (esp ones that sell really good coffee) in a spirit of self-employed camaraderie

2% thinking ‘I know, I could work in/open a shop’, then talking to independent traders who tell you it’s the quietest time in retail FOR A GENERATION

5% half-heartedly doing bare minimum housework/childcare by default

5% staring. Just staring

6% chasing invoices

7% worrying about money

7% worrying about future

7% wondering why the Hell I thought ‘going freelance’ would be a good idea

3% making tea

1% eating ham from the packet from the fridge plus any random leftovers I can find for lunch

1% going back to the jumper draw to put on another layer to keep warm

3% wondering if it’s too early to start drinking

5% crying

So, much like any other freelance day, then.

My first encounter came on Saturday morning via my husband’s wing of the London Branch of the Manchester City supporters club who’d spotted it on the menu at the Mark Addy (the acclaimed Mcr gastropub chosen for this week’s pre-match beers) and were getting a bit giddy. (Sadly, when they got there, it had sold out.)

Then there it was again at the Manchester Christmas Market in Albert Square. ‘Mr Holden’s Manchester Egg: A hearty commodity worthy of a gentleman.’ Then someone drew our attention to an article in Saturday’s Independent. Finally I head of to my brother-in-law’s birthday party and end up talking to the Egg’s pr. Now I’m even being followed by the Egg on Twitter.

Here is the Egg:

For the uninitiated, and those beginning to feel a bit peckish, the Manchester Egg™ is a Scotch Egg but made with black pudding and a pickled egg. The recipe is below.

At the moment they’re only available in selected Manchester pubs and at the city’s Christmas markets, but I am now a woman on a mission to introduce them to SE22 where I know they’d go down a treat.

The Scotch Egg as gastro-commodity is not a new concept. Jacks Tea & Coffee House has, I notice, added a venison scotch egg to its Sunday roast menu. I’ve tasted black pudding scotch eggs before – though not with the pickled egg twist – and the River Cottage has a recipe for a Guinea Fowl & Black Pudding version. But the Scotch Egg is clearly a food with many creative possibilities to be spun from its simple egg-meat-breadcrumb formula.

While eating my haggis for tea last night I wondered about a version using haggis for the sausage meat, oatmeal for the breadcrumbs, mashed potato for the egg white and a tiny scoop of neeps for the yolk.

I think it could be a winner. But what to call it when ‘Scotch’ egg is already taken?

THE RECIPE

Mr Holden’s Famous Manchester Egg

(created by Ben Holden http://manchesteregg.com/)

Makes 5

300g premium sausage meat
200g Bury black pudding
5 free-range pickled eggs (ideally pickle your own, but shop-bought work just fine)
Japanese panko breadcrumbs (from the Chinese supermarket or easily ordered online)
Salt and pepper
Beaten egg
Vegetable oil for frying

First of all, take the Bury black pudding and the premium sausage meat and remove the skin. Mix them together at a ratio of 60-40 (as per measurements above) with your hands (you have to boil the black pudding for a minute to soften it up; alternatively, ask your friendly local butcher to grind them together for you).

Next, wrap the mix around a pickled egg. The best technique for this is to flatten the mix into a patty about 12cm in diameter and place the egg in the middle, then fold the mix up around the egg.

I find Pandora’s is the best pickled egg brand you can get from the supermarket – and the right amount of mix is around 100g per egg.

Roll the mix into a perfect ball around the egg.

You then dip into the egg mix and roll it in the breadcrumb (I also add a secret blend of my own Mr Holden’s spice mix into the crumb – I can’t tell you what the ingredients are, but have an experiment with spicing it up a bit; you can’t go too wrong by just making sure the crumb has a good amount of top-quality sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper added). Press down to make sure as much crumb is coating the egg as possible – for extra crunch, try double-dipping in egg and crumb for a really substantial bite.

Deep fry at 170C for 7-8 minutes and give it a moment or two to cool before tucking in.

Easy peasy.

Don’t worry, I’m not about to ‘do a Brooker’ (his recent Guardian column on accidentally becoming a runner sums up a lot of how I feel about fit people). There is no danger of me going to the dark side and becoming actually sporty, although I have bought some highly engineered trainers to lessen the chance of injury and have been eyeing up some Stella McCartney leggings on the She Active website (and, having seen the price, will be going to Primark or Uniqlo instead).

The way I see it, the benefits of my new regime are several:

• It is warmer outside my house than inside.
• I live in an area surrounded by green spaces and woods.
• I also live in an area within walking distance of lots of great little food markets and new foodie places I’ve been meaning to try, which qualifies as multitasking.
• Maybe observing the changing seasons close up will stop me from hating winter so much.
• I might lose some weight.
• Although not if I keep walking to Brixton Village and eating pork dumplings from Mama Lans every time.
• I might get to play with my Nike+ iPhone app, if I can work out how to activate the sensor.
• I love walking but it always seems like an indulgence time-wise.
• I particularly like walking round cities because often it throws up ideas.
• I can walk for an hour every morning and still be at my desk by 10am.
• I have nothing else to do.
• Well, nothing meaningful.
• It might take my mind off the fact that I have nothing else to do by inventing something for me to do.
• Or it might just delay the realisation till 10am each day.
• I’ve always wanted to find out what endorphins are like.

But the Number 1 reason is that, having talked about it for years, I’ve finally signed up to do the MoonWalk next May – that is, walking a marathon overnight through London wearing a decorated bra and raising money for breast cancer.

I now realise that far from being the gentle evening stroll I was imagining, 26 miles is actually A LONG WAY. And even walking at a pace of 4 miles an hour, that’s going to take at least 6 1/2 hours, and with 20 minute queues for the loos, other walkers to dodge and the fact that I’d be unlikely to sustain that pace past about mile 5, and unlikely to be able to feel my feet past mile 20, I’ll be happy to crawl home in anything less than 8 hours. Which is A LONG TIME. That’s a standard working day. Just spent walking. Non stop. And I can’t even bear to think about the whole exposed midriff issue.

So far I’ve done a few mini practice walks to break myself in. Things I used to think were ‘long walks’ but turn out to be a fraction of the distance I’m going to have to cover. For example, I used to think it was a reasonable distance from my house to London Bridge; in fact if you walk along the old Surrey Canal and up Bermondsey Street, it’s barely 4 miles. In other words, I’m going to have to do that more than SIX TIMES.

Furthermore, it makes me realise that London isn’t quite as vast as I thought it was. It turns out there’s not really an excuse for catching the bus into town. I’ve dug out my old Time Out London Walks books and even walking along the river from Hampton Court to Thames Barrier only clocks up 29 miles, and they suggest that would take TWO DAYS. I once walked the entire route of the Circle Line (above ground) overnight as part of the London Night Hike for the brilliant Maggies cancer care centres, and even that was only 17 miles, more than 9 miles short of a MoonWalk.

I’ve no idea how I’m going to be able to stay up till midnight to even start the walk, but I guess that’s a whole different sort of training.

The main irritant was the thread ‘When are the fireworks going to end?????‘ Posted at 10pm ON A SATURDAY NIGHT! apparently this is way too late for anyone to be making a noise or having fun ON A SATURDAY NIGHT. Especially as there were Diwali fireworks ONLY A WEEK AGO!

But there have been other similarly enraging discussions. Several about aeroplane noise by people who must have wondered what the giant silver birds in the sky were when they bought their house. [Though one suspects they are quite grateful of the giant silver birds when they want to go on holiday or have business abroad.] Another complaining about someone having a 40th birthday party ON AS SATURDAY IN THE SUMMER HOLIDAYS, that went on past midnight (eek!).

And it’s not just the local forum. This weekend residents in flats next to the Olympic Park were on the news complaining that the whole of next summer’s Olympics would be a sleepless living hell. Not ‘OMG I’ve got the world’s biggest party on my doorstep, I could buy some earplugs, get by on less sleep for a fortnight and have fun, or sublet my flat for extortionate amounts of money and go somewhere nice.’ But, ‘It’ll keep me awake past 10pm and I won’t be able to hear my telly’ – which will probably just be showing the athletics anyway.

Now what didn’t people understand about the concept of a ‘city’ when they chose to live in one? One of the fantastic things about cities, and I don’t just mean London, are that they are big bustling places with lots of people and lots of exciting things going on. Some of those things may or may not be noisy.

Now I appreciate some people have to get up for work or have to work in the evenings (me included) or are on irregular shift patterns or want their children to sleep. But modern cities tend to be 24 hour societies, made up of lots of people who operate to different timetables – and where  babies cry at 5am and people celebrate things in the evenings.

I know not everyone is lucky enough to choose where they live. I suspect, for example, that some of those people in East London may have had very little choice; but I equally suspect that some of the people whingeing on our local forum voluntarily paid over the odds to live where they do.

If you chose to live in a city, deal with it. Hey, you might even find it’s fun.

One of the disadvantages of giving up working in an office for working at home is no more tech support. No grumpy men (and occasionally woman) to ring up just because you can’t get into your email, you’ve spilled something on your keyboard or you’ve accidentally deleted a really important file. (One company I’ve freelanced for hilariously and inaccurately calls it the ‘Zen Desk’.) No one who’ll come and put missing fonts on your computer for you while you go and make a cup of tea (even though you probably could have done it yourself if they’d only show you how). And no one to pick up the pieces when your hard drive melts, your CD drive fails or you smash your iPhone screen – all of which…

Sorry, it’s still to painful to go into exact details of all my visits. Really, the waiting area for the Genius Bar – full of hollow-eyed people clutching their sick devices and fearing the worst – has the anxiety levels of a blood test clinic. Suffice it to say that the very calm and collected Genius Barristas have not only had to break the worst possible news to me – the death of my hard drive last November – they’ve given me a new one, replaced the chipped  fascia of my keyboard, fixed my CD drive and, yesterday, given me a new iPhone. It turns out that lovely though the iPhone 4 is (and it really is) it has the serious design flaw of a screen that shatters the moment it is dropped, but which cannot be replaced or protected. I felt sick the moment I saw it, and again when I was told it would cost me £119, but in the end they let me off with just a stern talking to about being less clumsy in future.

Obviously it wasn’t all altruism on their part. They know they’ll get their costs back from my ongoing brand loyalty, especially as it means Project Saving-Up-For-An-iPad is back our of jeopardy. But it puts the Apple Genius Bar at the top of my list of People I Couldn’t Live Without as a Freelance. Here are a few more:

East Dulwich postal workers – much maligned but heave around our piles of subscription magazines, review books/audiobooks, press releases, tax bills, bank statements and, occasionally, actual letters. I’m sure they hate us.

Dairy Crest milkman – I’ve done shifts in too many offices where they run out of milk by 11.30am.

Oyster/TfL – which allows me to go to a meeting in town for £1.20 each way. Say what you like about cost of living in London, that’s good value compared to other UK cities

The Cheeseblock, SE22 – supplier of emergency chick pea samosas for only 80p each on days when I can’t face leftovers for lunch

Jacks, SE22 – supplier of high-grade chat and superb coffee on days when I can’t face my desk straight away

State education system – for provision of free childcare during term times

PSFK, Wired, Dezeen, Protein Feed, It’s Nice That and others who report on great inspiring ideas done by small-scale outfits and creative individuals

Twitter – the watercooler of the homeworker

Who or what can’t you live without?

LINKS (open in a new window)

Apple Genius Bar

Dezeen

It’s Nice That

Protein® Feed

psfk

Wired