From a man smashing a pineapple against his head to wood pigeon on an Indian BBQ, August Bank Holiday weekend is always different so I thought I should start my 'travel blog' here. It was a weekend of travelling literally - with cars, buses, coaches, trains, plenty of walking and even running a few unfortunate times. The weekend really started off with an Indian BBQ Masterclass on Saturday at Vatika in Wickham. A lovely sunny, if not slightly chilly, day to be in a vineyard and, even better, stood by the BBQ with a glass of champagne!
After a couple hours in the kitchen learning about spices and marinades and tasting different bits (including a regrettably large tablespoon of mustard oil), we stood by the BBQ enjoying a glass or two as our lunch was being cooked. In typical Vatika style a simple BBQ turned into a five course lunch... nothing to complain about! I love going on cooking courses because you can wax lyrical about food and cooking with other amateur chefs without sounding like too much of a ponce.
On Sunday I travelled up to Oxford for a, rather cloudy, boat party with Libby and Mike. House music, a wobbly boat and a couple vodkas certainly lend themselves to some great dancing and Sunday was no exception in my mind. Although it becomes slightly surreal when the music stops for the boat to drop through each lock and suddenly you are brought back to daylight reality facing a bunch of sweaty strangers. How do you strike up a reasonable conversation with someone who was just stamping their feet like a jungle warrior, nodding their head like a Churchill dog and air drumming like Phil Collins on ketamine? No-one really spoke to me during the intervals...
The boat landed back in Oxford and after five hours of dancing we took the very middle-aged decision to go home - at 9.30pm. Very glad we did though as it took hours navigating our way back from Oxford to Bethnal Green via coaches, tube lines, buses and a intoxicated Irish man with a convincing Spanish lisp.
The following day Libby and I headed to Carnival. After an excruciatingly hot tube journey we got off to walk to Noting Hill with plenty of time to dry out before submerging ourselves in the crowds again.
The usual madness ensued: banging drums, ear drum popping whistles, mid-life crisis Bob Marley t-shirts, a couple gang riots, a long search for more cider, a bit of dancing and a man smashing pineapples against his forehead. I love Carnival.
