BRITS FAVOURITE PASTIME AT WORK REVEALED

The internet has given us many wonderful things; an ever expanding library of knowledge, available to all; the opportunity to connect with fellow humans, all over the world, instantly; the means to rise up against oppressors & overcome them; but most importantly the chance to shop with an ease hitherto unimaginable.
 
No need to find a space to park the Mini - which even with a residents’ permit is frankly a nightmare - no need to wrestle with loads of bags on the 52, no need to deal with the squillions of people in Selfridges. No need to skive off work.
 
It seemed the perfect solution, until the fruits of my all-too-easy e-commerce experiences started arriving at work. It had never occurred to me that previously, shopping was essentially a private pursuit, and mercifully so. Can there be greater ignominy than the guys from despatch bringing 47 parcels to your office in a week? Only the creeping sense of dread you feel when you realise others not only see how shallow you are, but also imagine you are either well paid – horrors! - or indebted to Barclaycard – horrors!
 
Last week, I took delivery of no less than 4 cardigans from All Saints, some leather trousers from theOutnet (mitigation: they were Balmain, at 70% off), 2 pairs of leather shorts from ASOS (leather again? Afraid so), and a mincer attachment for my Kenwood Chef from John Lewis (I told you I was middle class). It got so bad that one of my colleagues actually came right out and asked where I get the money for it all. Just describing it has sent shivers down my spine. So I am resolved: never again. Ok, never again after today’s parcel, just a tiny, essential leather jacket from the All Saints sale. Well I did send all that stuff from last week back. Well, most of it.
 
Oh, the shame! 

From bought to chavvy in 60 seconds: how Barbour became the new Stone Island

I remember being very pleased a few years ago when that old middle-class favourites Barbour and Belstaff began doing coats in more fashionable styles and colours. They seemed to fill a gap in the market for woman’s coats that had that sporty element of men’s jacket, and they looked right for the moment somehow without being pretentious. They also had nice pockets, which in my opinion is rare in womens’ outerwear.
 
For these reasons I have, embarrassingly, now bought three varieties of these coats, so you can imagine my disappointment when I looked around me at a football match last week, and noticed that about one in every three people was wearing one. It dawned on me then that Barbours and Belstaffs have now replaced Stone Island as the casual’s jacket of choice. And all the criticisms of Stone Island – too popular, worn by people to show off – are now fully applicable to these old country brands. In fact I’d say it’s worse; basically, Barbour and Belstaff are en route to becoming not only the new Stone Island, but also the new Burberry.
 
The funny thing is, I don’t think this will stop anyone wearing them. Burberry’s ubiquity put people off, but these days lots of brands and consumer items seem to exist as both “upmarket” and “a bit chavvy”, with the upmarket lot not being put off. Tinted windows and personalised number plates in cars, for example. Or black Range Rovers. Seven For All Mankind jeans. Mojitos, and possibly all “cocktail culture”.  Maybe it’s because things seem to get more popular more quickly now, I dunno, but there is definitely a confusing, new sort of double-status to things. For middle-class trendsetters, it’s all rather upsetting. 

Chattering Class

Silly old Fergie

Like your daft school friend who just can’t help herself

Easter egg one-upmanship

M&S has giant solid chocolate bunnies for £20

Weekendvy

27 percent exaggerate to colleagues about their weekend. We spent ours abseiling

The Killing

Episode 12 is far too late to play catch-up

Lace-up festival wellies

Green Hunters are so 2009

BBC’s free iPlayer App

That Sky+ Box is looking pretty unloved

The shame of Dior

But is wearing the perfume still okay?

innocent veg pots

The new Covent Garden Soups

Mr Porter

Because you can never have too many socks

Adele

Hasn’t she done well?

Reclaiming the Muffin

Time was not so very long ago that ‘muffin’ meant a cakey thing filled with blueberries. It was a national travesty that our good old British yeast leavened toastable treat had been overshadowed by this brash American confection; humiliated into having to adopt the prefix English muffin to avoid messy blueberry-and-poached-egg related confusion.

But the revolution has happened and the traditional muffin has reasserted itself. It may have started with artisanal bakeries looking for ever more specialist types of bread rolls to give choice-obsessed customers incapable of being satisfied by just ‘a roll’. Or possibly in the sorts of local café frequented by homeworkers and Bugaboo owning parents, offering nursery food like porridge, or Marmite on toast. Or maybe even (though we’d rather not think it) with the Egg McMuffin.

Now, not since the fabled Drury Lane Muffin Man has it been easier to get your hands on a muffin. Wholesome brands such as Kingsmill and Allinson have been quick to pick up on the trend. This week they’re two for a £1 in Iceland, and Sainsbury's is stocking at least four different names, including its own Basics range.

And whither the American muffin? Gone the same way as the fairy cake, overshadowed by its compatriot the cupcake.



Cheese counter ennui

Flickr: Jan1ceBeing fortunate enough to live 200 yards from a specialist cheese shop, I am spoilt for choice when it comes to unpasturised diary produce. Over the years I’ve been slowly working my way along the counter from the nutty Jarlsberg by the door, through various Tommes, Manchegos and Pecorinos, to the British section by the backroom, with milky Wigmore, sharp Mrs Kirkham’s Lancashire and the black waxed Welsh classic Snowdonia. I’ve done nettle wrapped, oatmeal rolled, and wine washed, and, yes, I’ve have been known to amuse myself with themed cheeseboards (alphabetical, geographical, etc).

Last year I made a point of trying every cheese in the miniature soft cheese section, a different one each day for lunch, until I overdosed on ash by eating chèvre cendré with charcoal biscuits.

But now I’m bored. Even the porter-infused cheese or the one for Norway (who knew?) no longer seem exotic enough to hold my interest.

The nice lady behind the counter suggests a Camembert, or a Cheddar. I take offense. These are the ready salted crisp of the cheese counter. No self-respecting foodie would be so unadventurous. I mean, I haven’t had a commonplace Camembert or Cheddar since… and I see what she means.

It’s just the ‘something different’ I’m looking for. Good honest classics with no showing off. And they still taste fantastic. I may even buy some plain old cream crackers to go with them.