Stepping Out

I couldn’t believe little Lainee had never “done” Harrods before..  well, admittedly, her actual words were;

“Thankfully, I’ve always managed to avoid that particular tourist trap..”

Which of course I automatically knew really meant, “Why yes, I’d just love you to drag me through there.” 



But being non-meat eaters, once inside, both she and our big sis’ disappointingly, flat out refused to accompany me through the food halls, and I had to agree meet up with them on another floor.  Apparently, carcasses don’t excite them anywhere near as much as they seem to do me.

Personally, I think their abandonment had slightly more to do with the security guard hot in my pursuit (photography being banned).  Sheesh, in these crowds it was easy-peasy to (eventually) lose him, my sisters have no faith!

Anyways, snapping photo’s on the hoof ain’t easy, so please cut me some slack on the quality posted up here, yeah?




I love, love, love this place, it’s all tiled walls and marble counters, huge high ceilings, and platters upon platters of FREE (yup) delicacies.  Eeeeeeeee, ‘tis nothing short of a Shrinky heaven!





Aside from the wonderful architecture, echoing halls, and auspicious history, this place is laden with the most incredible of displays, not to mention a near endless variety of mouth-watering samples to plunder.


  


It snaps me right back to my youth, and to when I first moved to London.  The flat I shared at the time with three other equally broke, struggling young girlies, happened to be located just around the corner from Harrods (which may partially account for the fact as to why we were such broke and struggling, young girlies in the first place).

Every Saturday lunchtime, we had a ritual.  We’d prowl the food-hall’s of Harrods, stuffing ourselves full to bursting with all the glorious freebies to be had – my, was it a feast fit for a king!  We were also sure to take full advantage of all the wonderful wine tasting there too, for the taking.  Finally, usually more tipsy than sober, we’d wind up weaving our short way home, to catch a very well earned, and much appreciated mid-afternoon snooze..  ahhh, those were happy days.

(Insert fond smile!)




Oops, sorry, I digress..

From Thursday through to Sunday, big sis’, little sis’ and I all ran away from home reluctantly took a break away from our families, to catch up on some very long overdue, shared fun and frolicking together.

Oh, and what a frolic it was!
   




We visited a few galleries, did some sights, laughed, giggled, gossiped, and generally reverted back to our (albeit, second) childhoods.  We even took in a West-End show, the sets of which were jaw-droppingly spectacular, and later, catching a ride all the way home in our London black cab, we followed the river Thames, passing, all still and floodlit, the sleeping Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, and the now defunct, but still unmistakable, landmark icon of the Battersea Power station.




No, I didn’t ride up front (black cab’s don’t have a passenger seat), I had to crouch to get this photo opportunity!  Our driver was as sweet as he was long suffering, and good naturedly allowed us to shamelessly take full advantage of him.  (If you are reading this Baz, thanks for the ride, you rock!)

Surprisingly, our last night out proved to be the best.  We opted to stay local, and booked cinema tickets before eating out.  When the time came to collect them, the lad behind the counter informed us we were THE ONLY patrons to come out to play that night; and that we had the cinema all to ourselves! 

As it turned out, I guess it was for good reason, ‘cos the film was pretty crappy, (“Killer’s” – a comedy, if you ever get the chance to see it, I recommend you pass) not that it mattered, we had such a blast!

We claimed our own rows, hooted at the screen, happily kicked off our our shoes, and put our feet up.  When the film proved too boring, we entertained ourselves with an all out, no holds barred, bare-foot popcorn fight (oh, don’t worry, our goody-two-shoes little sister made us clear up most of it before leaving).


  

I know, with the credits rolling, we look pretty scary here, but hey, isn't that what big sister's are for?

What you don’t see is the last of the carton of popcorn we threateningly clutch in our hands – ooooooooooh, and did we ever let her have it, after she took this (in her bid to distract us) photo (bwahahahaha)! 

No, This is not (Completely) a Halloween Post

Blimey, you have no idea how long it took to plough through all these pumpkins.

Pumpkin soup, pumpkin pie, pumpkin chutney, I even resorted to pumpkin cheesecake! Sadly, the brood threatened mutiny over the pumpkin smoothies, but hey-ho, you can't blame a gal for trying.

We finally bid the last three goodbye by carving them into lanterns, and ate out to celebrate.


Yeah, I know Halloween was ages ago now, but bear with me, I'll move on swiftly enough.

Actually, Halloween proves a trifle problematic these-days. The two eldest have long outgrown trick or treating, but they are never short of a party to find, (cue the taxi-driver cap) but naturally, they never attend the SAME party together, oh dear me no, that would make life far too easy, wouldn't it? As for little Abby, she is still keen to uphold the extortion fine tradition of "Hop tu naa", but only if it involves going door-to-door with a bunch of friends in tow, and doesn't include Sam.

Actually, I can't say as I blame her - Sam's height is only exceeded by his enthusiasm, and most folk get leery of six foot plus, highly excitable 16yr old strangers hammering their doors down at night. So I usually manage to find some hapless parent to escort Abby and her group around, freeing me up to stay home with him. He happily decorates the house, lurks behind the door clutching his bowl of sweeties, and waits excitedly for the bell to ring. It never does, mind (the drive-way is much too long) but it doesn't dampen his spirits any. By the time we take the lanterns in, he's usually on such a sugar high on the un-claimed candy, it would come as little surprise should he actually spot the Wicked Witch of the West herself, turning loop-the-loops in the sky.

This year he wanted to bake cakes for the occasion. As you know, we've had family staying, and as it was half-term, my young niece, nephew, and great-nephew were equally as keen to get in on the act. Big sis' and little sis' (aka "The Tree-hugger's") had booked themselves into a meditation and healing group for the afternoon, so it seemed an auspicious enough time for the little ones (plus Sam) to get cracking in the kitchen.



It wasn't until big sis' was half-way out the door before she tossed out over her shoulder, "Don't put any milk or butter in Chris's cakes, will you?"

HUH??

How the hell do you make cakes without those two vital ingredients?

And then came the punch-line, "Same for the frosting - oh, and remember NO chocolate, either!"

(I warned you she can drive me nuts, didn't I?)

Poor Chris, it must be rotten having a nutritional allergy therapist for a granny.

Sooooooo, I abandoned the double chocolate gateaux in favour of several batches of fairy-cakes instead - one of which looked very dodgy minus all the dairy - it looked even less appetising still with the watery sugar icing the poor lad had to top them with.

T'was nothing short of child abuse!


Still, he doesn't look too fazed I guess. He's the one with the glasses. Sweet Sam? Not being daft, he excused himself from the photo (he hates the flash going off in his eyes).

Sisters

Hmmmn.

We'd looked relatively well-groomed when we'd first set out (well, for us we did).

Little sis', Lainee, did the driving, me giving direction. Actually, I felt quite flattered, I mean, being as it's common knowledge I'm a wee bit spatially challenged and all, I think it was really nice they still chose to trust in me like that (after the last time), don't you?

Anyway, I did get us there to the car park. The restaurant was but a mere few yards away, wasn't it?

Who would have thought the heavens would choose to open up on us like that? (Crikey, now if they had taken my car, I at least have the good sense to always stash a brolly in the boot..this is Craggy Island, y'know.)

"What do you mean, some one's moved it?"

"I'm telling you, it was here, right next to the bed shop - it was!"

Big sis' May tactfully suggested we try the next block down. I gave her the benefit of that, even though her optimism came over as more patronising than diplomatic to mine own ears. I knew damn well where it was! It just wasn't where it was supposed to be.

Someone'd moved it.

I was able to prove it too on our third circut back. Oh, they of little faith! Darn thing was completely encased for demolition and hidden under a ton of sheeting. Guess the pelting rain had obscured me from recognising it for what it was at first.

(What do you mean, I obviously don't get out much?)

Wasn't my fault. Sheesh, think I would have wasted a full good hour with the hair straighteners if I'd known we'd only wind up doggy-paddling it over to our hastily invented plan B?

I'm telling you, what a waste of good make-up that was. And very charitable too that none of my sib's warned me before I stepped out under that broken guttering. Bless 'em, eh? Glad they found it so knicker-wettingly funny. Mind, unlike the two Panda's walking on either side of me, at least my eyeliner didn't run (I've just had it permanently tattooed on) And to think, they actually had the temerity to laugh when they'd first heard what I'd gone and done (now who was the one smiling smugly, eh?).

And before you ask, yes, of course it hurt like hell, you try go sticking a thousand needles into your inner lids to see how it feels, but hey, like I say, at least mine doesn't smudge, unlike others I could mention. Hey-ho, (sheepish grin) sorry, I digress..

Sooo, the thing is, as one of them doesn't eat meat, and with the other one being Vegan, it's one hell of a job trying to find a place where we are all happy to eat out together in. See, me, I'm a complete carnivore.

We did, (find a restaurant) as you can see.. but that's a whole 'nother story. They kept mixing up the order and trying to serve flesh to my two tree-hugging blisters up here - ah, but what the hell, at least I came out smiling - I ended up with three free large glasses of their finest wine (seemed shameless to waste it, seeing as how neither of them drink).

Aw, I love my two sisters hugely, and I've had a wonderful week with them. Despite the fact they don't smoke, cuss or drink, and that I know they lose sleep I'm fast headed to hell in a bucket, I am also secure in the knowledge of how deeply they love me. Lainee is a junior school (to age eleven) music teacher as well as a week-end lay preacher, and May has this successful holistic healing practice, where her speciality there is as a nutritional therapist which mainly addresses allergies - her clients are known to travel from near and wide, and book months in advance just to consult with her. She is quite well known in her own right, frequently pulled on by the BBC for interview in relevant segments. I'm afraid what they do is all mumbo-jumbo to me, but this they know and happily forgive, I guess that's what family is all about - unconditional acceptance. For three kids who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, we turned out alright.

I have a few adventures to relate, but at risk of droning on, I think I'll quit until the next time. I mentioned they can drive me nuts, right? (But only in a nice, scratching my head kind of way - I find their logic hysterical at times.)

We've all parted on the agreement next time we meet up, we are ditching the kids and running off to London on our ownisome - who knows, perhaps I will yet succeed in leading them astray? I live in hope!