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Celebrities and Mere Mortals
| So I live in a city where the streets are rampant with mere mortals that move from point to another. In between these mortals prowl celebrities that wish to lead a "normal" life and not want to be hounded or chased down streets and roads by predators, also known as autograph hunters and paparazzi. I am an autograph hunter but not a full fledged one. Oh let me be clearer on that, I'm not a hunter of sorts, I just happen to bump into celebrities every now and then. London is a place that is buzzing with life, and people from all walks... of life... will be found all over London. People do not necessarily believe me when I say I've seen or met soandso, but in all honesty could the same not be said if I were in New York? Or Florida? Is it just because I'm in London that I can't meet someone from Casulty and end up with their email address? Is it because I'm not glamorous that a certain Mr. Stamp wishes me luck in Soho? Or is it just dumb luck that I bumped into Jason "Lucius Malfoy" Isaac on the street and got chatting with him? It could be a mix of things, but more along the lines of London is a great place to see celebs at their most natural. Honestly, it is! A lot of the time I will meet people from various TV shows and British films in Soho, which is one of the places where media companies seem to set up camp. I've met a couple of people from Coronation Street in a Starbucks in there. I've chased down the street (for a friend - cue blush from Girl, Interrupted) to get Graham Norton's autograph. I've stared at G4 walking past me in the street to Itsu for lunch a number of times, before running up to them for an autograph, and ended up shaking and in a nervous mess thanks to my overload of caffiene just before that burst. Eastenders characters are known to prowl the streets of Soho as well, as I've bumped into "Jake", "Danny" and "Chrissy" all in the same area. I also managed to annoy Dawn French with a request for an autograph for my mother. There are a couple of celebrities though who I've managed to spot but never managed to pluck the courage to talk to. One was John Hannah (the Mummy) who was looking very rugged in a slightly wet trench coat. Another was Dale Winters, only because he took one look at me, realised I'd recognised him but just strolled past me. I've seen Rik Mayall one more than one occassion, and on the third he just stared at me with an odd look about him, probably thought I was stalking him. But I have to say the nicest was seeing Brian May in front of me before we crossed paths crossing a road in front of the Dominion theatre where "We Will Rock You" was playing. It was probably because I'd had just started my MA in London and my new life, and it was the first time I spotted someone famous. My jaw dropped and my eyes widened, plus I was a bit of a Queen fan. He saw my expression and smiled. Realising I was catching flies, I closed my mouth, smiled shyly and made my way across the street. There are a couple more celebrities which I have met, but I can't really disclose on here, for a number of reasons. However, knowing the friends I do (TV and film producers, media researchers and location managers), only ONCE have I made contact with a celebrity, and that was in a detached form. It's sad, as these people come in contact with various names and people, and yet they do not share them. As I spoke to the owner of a media company, I mentioned how friendly Jason Isaac was, the owner turned to me and said, "who?" Maybe the world isn't split up into it's Celebrities and Mortals, but with the few in between who are not dazzled by it all because they see what they're really like without the airbrushing and entourage. It may still make me a little embaressed to ask, but I don't think I could give up the habit or lose the excitment of seeing someone famous on the street. Why should I? |
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London Film Festival Begins Today!
| From the 18th of October to the 2nd of November, the London Film Festival will keep you entertained with a group of awesome movies and events (under cool strands like New British Cinema and Experimenta - ooh). "Hmphs" will be frowned upon from those who will compare our treat to Cannes - this year does have a lot of cool movies lined up (I wrote about my excitement in my blog) and I'm personally looking forward to a couple, including Venus, Breaking and Entering and of course, Borat: Cultural Learnings of America For Making Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan - "Why not? I like. It nice!" Besides the popcorn, don't forget the events being held at the National Film Theatre with special guest talks by Tim Burton, Dustin Hoffman and many, many more... Remember: it's so cool 'cause i'ts happening in London - way cooler than wherever else film festivals are held.
Download your event calender HERE (pdf). |
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The 5 Minute Difference
beep... beep beep... Bang the alarm and slap the sleep off my face. There's only one thing on my mind this morning, "Conference call at 9 a.m., Conference call at 9..." I have very little time to dilly and none to dally at all: I had to be in the office pronto. I manage to jump into the shower, out of the shower, into my clothes, jump my breakfast into my mouth, jump out of the house (in my red shoes) and off to work - all very Super Mario Brothers style, all very quick and efficient as I try for once to beat the human traffic to the city. Put on socks, jump, jump, grab some gold coins, jump, jump, out the door. "Conference call at 9 a.m., Conference call at 9..." I'm not wearing a watch today so I swiftly pull out my phone to look at the time as I walk to the bus stop and feel the rain begin to spit at my forehead. Go on, mock me while I'm vulnerable, the clouds taunt me in my own voice as I look at my telephone. Five minutes earlier than usual: good stuff, seroo, good stuff. Let's hope this works. I need to be in with plenty of time to spare for my dreaded conference call. Walking to the bus stop, I'm surprised by the lack of suited umberllas queuing for a spot on the bus. I look at the time again and start to panic as I realize the last bus must have already left. "Conference call at 9 a.m., Conference call at 9..." I try to calculate how long it will be until a bus comes and whether I'll make my call or not - how soaked I'll get in the now drizzling rain and how long it will take for me to dry and whether I won't dry at all and maybe I'll get pnemonia and will I get admitted to the hospital and will they bring in a vicar if it's serious...? Thankfully, I'm interrupted in my train of thought by the D7 flashing its lights at me. Great. I'll live til yet another rainy day. "Conference call at 9 a.m., Conference call at 9..." Wait a minute, something's different about this bus... There aren't any noisy children in school uniforms and I'm standing comfortably in my own space. The bus driver isn't driving like a maniac either and I get to the station in record time. Hmm. Poseiden and Medusa aren't waiting for me at Canary Wharf station, so things must be normal. Hmm. I hop off the bus then proceed through the station mall to the tube. I'm welcomed by the mass exodus of people rushing out of the trains and every orphus underground to get to giant tickers overgound. I look around; There's the bottleneck of people trying to get on the escalators, there's the mess of newspapers scattered about, and yet there is something different in the air. I contemplate the thought as I go through my usual routine of dodge-shift-swerve,-pirouette through the masses - am I getting better at this or what? It all seems too simple as I find my way down the escalator to the back of the train as it was approaching. Something does not seem right, but "Conference call at 9 a.m., Conference call at 9..." is still in the back of my head and I look through the moving glass to see which carriage to weave my way in. Train approaches, I walked to the back carriages and smoothly walked through the sliding doors and found a seat with a neatly placed Metro on it. Slie into my chair smugly, looking for recognition from my other fellow commuters for my slick moves to an empty seat and looked up aghast at how many people were standing: near none compared to my usual morning journies. Almost everyone had a seat, everyone was quiet, people looked relaxed, no BO... Could it be that I've actually avoided the crowd by 5 minutes? Bigger Surprise: my train journey was pleasant as I sat the whole way - even after my change at Green Park (to which the Gujrati folk singer was there today but was still setting up her gear). My commute was fine and I got in the office with plenty of time to sit down, have a cup of tea and contemplate who would win in a fight between myself and a giant baracuda (trick question: I'd never fight a baracuda because I'd already have died of a heart attack on seeing a live fish up close. And now you know). "Conference call at 9 a.m., Conference call at 9..." no sweat, got there in time without collapsing at my desk the second I got in. Definitely a tip for commuters - sometimes that 5 minute boost in the morning really does make a difference. Look at my journey this morning: I wasn't soaked, I didn't have to clutch my bag in suspicion of every little brat that bumped into me, I didn't have to read the paper over someone else's shoulder and I actually sat on the train today. I sat down people, and that in itself is worth rushing yourself for 5 minutes. Well worth it, I'd say. |
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EAT yer sarnies
London may as well be the sandwhich capital of the world - I haven't seen as many people flock to as many different sandwich shops between the hours of 12 to 3 p.m. as I have here, with The City being no exception... (to those of you who are Irish don't contend with me - we gave you potatoes! Sandwiches are ours!) It seems that the sandwich is the prime choice here for lunch, with your basic English sarnies like Cheese & Pickle, Ham & Cheese, (Cheese & anything really) to your more fancy Thai fusions and the odd crayfish combination: They're quick, they give you enough sustenance to last you til coffee time and some of them taste pretty good. There's is an explosion of sandwich shops all over the place: Old-time favourites Marks & Sparks do a great Tuna Sandwich and Pret have done a pretty good job with putting avocado in a lot of things - but today's entry goes to EAT, who I must say, are pretty damn tasty. If you think £2.80 is a little pricey for a sandwich then start making your sandwiches at home - most places have their lunches ranging up to £4 for a basic plastic sandwich and EAT's are on the upper average price range. However, they are well worth them - the eateries are clean, the service is good, the packaging is friendly & not frustrating to tear open when you're on a quick break AND their sandwiches are tasty. EAT's selection is pretty good: They do have a range of sandwiches for the meat lover (rare scottish roast beef), the vegetarian (mozarella, avocado & tomato) and even the fussy eater (wheat free dairy free - no farmyard animals hurt of involved in any way). Their selection is good and the actually have variety which some places lack nowadays as they've chosen to stick to chosen favourites. Everything is fresh and you can actually taste it, which is a pleasant surprise. They have 2 different types of tuna sandwiches (with red onion or with sweetcorn) which is pretty awesome since both are under 5% fat so you know they're not overloading them with mayonnaise as other places do. Their roast beef & horseradish is also very good, as is their Turkey & Cranberry, which both have enough meat & enough spread that compliment eachother perfectly. Their other choices include toasted ciabattas and very good soup - EAT always have 2 options of freshly made soup, with a veg & non-veg option. Dairy free versions of your favourite soups still taste just as good and warm you right up on a cold day. If you're feeling the pounds pile on from having sandwiches everyday, they also do a number of interesting salads like their POWER FOOD salad that's high in anti-oxidants and is presented well. Their Sandwich of the week is usually quite good - today I opted for the Wheat Free option and had the salmon & cream cheese (which is never a favourite but tempted me today thanks to my counterpart who loves the combination and smells of it too - hee hee!) . I must say I did not stink up my office as I pulled out my half and did not have polar bear breath afterwards. The salmon was cut in good slices, the cream cheese was not too dull and there was an interesting addition of capers and an awfully good dill mustard which was delicious (kudos to that). The bread was also good, soft and hearty, and unlike most wheat-free products, did not taste like it was made in a lab. Other than sandwiches, their coffee is a little pricey for a sandwich shop (1.80 for a latte) but they make up for it for providing nicer coffee than places that threaten to break your legs if you don't drink their coffee. They also have good crisps (for those who eat 'em) and lot's of healthy sides, like greek yoghurt with muesli, fresh mango parfait and some good ol' English fruit. Overall, they've got a good selection and you walk out paying under 5 quid for your lunch of a sarnie, packet of crisps, a smoothie & a cookie - which is pretty standard here in the city. EAT outlets are found all over the city, big compilments to the one on Kingsway who always have more than 1 of everything during late lunch hours and have fed many-a-colleagues. If you really can't find one, look for your local branch here. |
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Being Green in London
| Now when you think of being green in London it could mean one of two things, 1) you’re recycling, 2) you’ve joined the RESPECT party. Or third, and very unlikely option, you’ve joined the Cameronian campaign and are wearing your tree pin proudly. No dear Londoner, when I refer to ‘green’ I refer to being new and fresh to the city. Last Sunday I met a new addition to a football team I support (we were introduced the night before, but it was a big bustling party that we didn’t get time to chat, however on the Sunday we did and I was surprised about his background). Basically the guy was in his 30’s and new to London, he’d been here for 3 weeks and was finding it to be quite different. From the open and very friendly way he spoke it occurred to me just how ‘green’ this guy was. At first I found it kind of cute, until I slowly got put off by it. This guy had no idea just what London was like. By the sounds of things he hadn’t lived in London or in a major city for a while and something in me just wanted to reach out and touch him, to see if he was real. When we were on the train going home I said one thing to him about London, which I tell anyone who’s visiting London or coming to live, you either love it or hate it, there is no in between with London. It’s true though. There are just too many factors about London that could swing a person either way, but never in between. Unlike my Eastend neighbours, I love London. There is very little about this city that could make me hate it, and honestly I don’t see how anyone could, unless they have very thin skin. I love how cosmopolitan it is, and yet how cosy it is. You could get lost in the different streets around London and yet still find your way out, or at least a tube station to get back to where you started. You can meet some of the most interesting characters in the oddest of places (like the number of people I’ve chatted to in Soho or the playwright I met in the British Library). I love how you could walk around Tottenham Court Road or Wardour Street and just see different celebrity faces (the number of times I’ve seen G4 grabbing lunch or Sharon Osborne’s nephew having a Starbucks), or actors such as Terence Stamp and John Hurt walking past and hassling them for an autograph. I love how you could just go out and have a coffee and do nothing except read a book under the summer sun and that’s your entire activity for the day. Or the cheap cinema in Leicester Square where you can get in on a Friday for a £1 (Prince Charles’ Cinema if you wanted to know). Our museums, galleries and exhibits that are strewn around the city. The friendly markets that sell everything and attract some obscure crowds (Spitalfields and Covent Garden – BIG examples where else would you find grungy punks and Arabs in the same area?). However, unless you have thick skin, you could easily be put off by some of the cold behaviour and attitudes of some people around the city. When you’re on the tube, people tend to avoid making eye contact like the plague. If you’re on a busy street and bumped into, you’d be lucky to get a backward glance let alone and apology. If you are mugged (and this happen to my own grandmother), unless you shout ‘FIRE!’ nobody will help you, because nobody is likely to want to get involved. Although that all sounds pretty desolate, I’m sure most populated cities and capitals around the world face similar circumstances, but just handle it differently or have different PR and tourist attractions to cover it all up. Only after talking about it with a friend did I realise, although initially it was off-putting, the new guy’s ‘green’ disposition seemed welcomed and endearing, and should always be like that. The way of life in this city, with it’s tough edge and cynicism, not to mention crippling taxes and congestion charge crap, would chip away at that sweet and open disposition. It’s such a shame that come his first month of working in the city he’ll probably change. Hopefully he’ll grow thick enough skin to accept London for what it is, and be happy, I would hate to think of what would happen if he didn’t. As for me, I love the ol’ gal as she is, and I wouldn’t change her for anything. |
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Men And Grooming
| So Wednesday, on my way home from running errands around Central London, I pick up the day's Evening Standard. I don't buy it for it's cutting edge standard of news or reporting of issues, I simply collect the crosswords they do for my mum as she enjoys theirs the most. However, on Mondays and Wednesdays the Life and Culture section usually have columns written by two people who I enjoy reading. On Mondays it's Hannah Poole and on Wednesdays it's Nirpal Dhaliwal with his "City Lives", that day Dhaliwal decided to pick on men... one of my favourite hobbies. Basically what he wrote was that men have become to vain about their looks and their maintenance. Men have become to feminine and how David Beckham will only be remembered for his outfits and squeaky voice once his football career is over. I honestly don't know how old the term metrosexual is, but I do know that quite a few men heaved a sigh of relief once they had a label for themselves, straight men who embrace their feminine side, which shows greatly in their grooming. As I read the article, I could honestly say that I found myself siding with both sides. Dhaliwal says that all the rugged and rough guys are being replaced by all the pretty boys, such a George Clooney and Ben Affleck, how masculinity is being drained by this new wave of narcissism. I'm sorry, but since when did men stop being narcissistic?! I believe men only started having true insecurities when they started embracing grooming practices, when they realised they could polish themselves up and look really good. It's because they cared about how they look that the cracks started to show. It's true for women too, which is why I regret caring about my appearance and become feminine. However, what is wrong with a man taking care of himself anyway? What is wrong with a man looking passable? Why do we allow men to get away with the minimal and yet look sexy and edible, and yet we women spend hours and hours to look effortlessly wonderful and amazing. I'm sorry but I think it's ok for men to work a little on their looks, to try a little for their women, at least through the honeymoon period like women feel they have to, why not? On saying that, I do believe sometimes a line needs to be drawn. Although it has only recently been the fashionable for men to make visits to their local beauty salon, or at least it would be local if they lived in Mayfair, men in the Middle East, I find, have been making a sport of self grooming for a MUCH longer period of time. Although many people would hate to admit it, Arab men, especially of the Lebanese variety, are incredibly conscious about their appearance and sometimes go to extreme lengths to reach that level of perfection. Take Saudis for instance, they wear their thobes (those long white nighties you usually see the Arab men wearing during the day) and their ghutras (the white headdress) or shumagh (the red one), every part of that outfit, for the middle class, working Arab man has to look pristine. The amount of care taken to wash those thobes, and the delicate wash used to clean that material is just, amazing. Imagine going to work in a white shirt that covers your entire body, you’d want that white shirt to look crisp and clean right? Imagine having to make sure that ENTIRE FULL LENGTH shirt having to look clean and crisp. Imagine ironing one of those bloody things, it’s a bloody nightmare, I know, I tried. Then those headdresses? The amount of starch that is used to make sure that that thing sits properly and the point at the end sits stiffly and straight. The amount of time and the number of times the average working Arab man will take in order to make sure that that WHOLE outfit works out right is the most frustrating thing especially when you have to wait for that person to drive you to work or school. And Lebanese men don’t wear these things, this is usually limited to those men in the Gulf, Lebanese men have a whole wardrobe to contend with. I won’t even stop there. Now I don’t know how long men have been grooming themselves in England, but I’m sure they have not tried waxing, or are freely into threading. Hell, I don’t think barbers in the UK are even attempting to offer threading to their customers. And for those of you who don’t know what it is? Threading is the slightly painful way of removing hair where a person will wind thread around their fingers, and like with any depilatory device will remove hair by plucking it from the skin. Sounds like fun? Well women have been doing it since before it became fashionable, men on the other hand, I’m not so sure. However, your local friendly barber in the Middle East will easily offer to thread your ear hair, or thin out any bushy eyebrows (and even shape them) as easily as they can offer a close shave. You may think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not, although unfortunately not enough men have their ear hair removed even though it would do the world a favour if they did! I'm probably the most contradictive person my friends (and boyfriend) will come across, but I'd like to think it's because I embrace different things at different times, while shunning their opposites too. Who knows, but I have to say something has to be said about seeing your man looking a little more masculine and rugged... although it doesn't hurt when they still don't mind taking care of themselves at a minimal level. |
BUSKER OF THE DAY: Folk Music in Gujrati
| Where: Interlink between Jubilee and Picadilly Line When: 8:30 a.m. Who: Hare Rama Hare Krishna for the Lilith Fair That long walk between lines this morning was filled with a happy-sad tune on the guitar and the voice of a young woman drifting all the way through the blue tiled corridors. How pretty, I initially thought, I wonder what she's singing... Weaving through the zigzag of commuters in the morning, I anticipated the music of this morning's busker that grew less and less faint as I walked quicker through the crowd. I've learned to recognize whether a song is original or a cover, whether it's a professional or a student and whether it's legal or not, and I almost always appreciate the music that's being played for me so early in the morning. Walking through the tube, I could listen to the faint plucking of a guitar and a soulful voice, but I could not make out the words. The inspiration seemed a pre-Sprite add Jewel but the words made no sense whatsoever. Approaching her closer, she had the look right (disheveled blonde hair held back with a flower pin and a grey cardigan), she had the right instrument (a battered guitar with a flower sticker on it) and definitely had a pretty voice, but what the hell was she singing? Only when I got closer did I realize the words were not in English (and I wasn't hallucinating because of a lack of oxygen underground) and in fact the woman was singing in Indian - Gujrati to be exact (as it said on her CD that I glimpsed at in confusion). Our Busker Of The Day was singing sweet, female teen angst folk music, but in Gujrati - please not she was not singing Gujrati folk music, which I've never heard, but I doubt would sound anything like Sarah McLaughlan on a summer day. Nonetheless, this annoyed me, but she still is branded Busker Of The Day. If you see her, tell her that mixing too many things in one does not work and she should just stick to singing folk music since she's got the look down. If she wants to throw in some Indian influences, she can put on a white robe & dance around Leicster Square with a bucket of change (and hopefully get slapped with an ASBO). (just in case you want to know a little bit more about busking on the tube) |