In the previous post, I was harping on about London's coffee revolution. It comes as a disappointment then, that a recent trip to one of London's independent coffee stalwarts, Grind Coffee Bar (not to be confused with Shoreditch Grind). Grind has a new outpost in the epic temple of mammon that is Westfield in Stratford. Stratfield as I like to call it. The great thing about this is that I can be guaranteed to grab a fantastic coffee to see me off on my merry way to the land of Kent for a parental visit as it is a stone's throw from Stratford International Station where you can catch the high speed service and be in the depths of Kentish countryside in under an hour.
The particular Saturday of my visit, I was in a foul mood. I was very tired and very grumpy indeed, coffee was needed. The strongest coffee, the richest milkiest coffee, something that would really satisfy me and caffeine jolt me out of my grumpity grump. I had just the thing in mind, a Herculatte. Yes, the Classics geek in me enjoys the reference to the eponymous hero, Hercules, but I needed caffeine in Herculean proportions and little else would do. My discovery of the Herculatte occurred in Toronto last Autumn. It was a true beauty to behold after a horrible all-night bus ride from Montreal. It was early and after a particularly disastrous order in Starbucks proved that their stuff just wouldn't cut it, we consulted the trusty guide book and made a bee-line to The Moonbean Cafe around the corner from Kensington Market. What could be better a better caffeine jolt than a triple shot latte? It was some of the nicest coffee I've ever had, this lovely little cafe roasts their own and they know their stuff. After drinking it, I came back to life and was no longer the zombie-off-the-bus-from-outta-town.
So it was on this particular Saturday that Grind Coffee Bar was my salvation, they would surely understand my need!
I know what I want and when I'm grumpy, don't mess with me. Especially if I haven't had coffee and you're the person who I'm expecting to provide me with the coffee that I want. On the menu was a flat white. Perfect, they do it in large as well - brilliant. Most places will only do a flat white in small which is something to do with the quantities or maybe just trying to differentiate it from a latte. Grind however does serve a large flat white but only if you're staying in and not for take away which I just find pointless if they have the large takeaway cups. So, I asked for it. A herculatte. Ok, they probably wouldn't have known what that was so, I asked for a triple shot latte. But no. I was to be let down, they don't 'do' triple shots. To which I just frowned at the guy behind the till (like I said, I was grumpy).
"All our coffees are double shot" as though this would be enough and make it all ok.
"I know, I've had your coffee before. Can I have a triple shot latte?"
"We don't do triple shots."
"Alright fine, I'll just have a normal flat white"
"I'm sure you won't be disappointed"
Well, I was because I wasn't drinking a triple shot latte which is what I wanted! No, the flat white was seriously nice but what is more irritating is the cafe's inability to listen to the requests of the customer. It wasn't until after I had left that I realised I could have just bought a latte and added my own espresso shot but the cafe should have offered to do this. I realise it would have made my coffee more expensive but I had pounds in my purse for caffeine purchasing purposes. Even if they'd bothered to ask me why I needed three and not two shots, they might have realised that I'm not a luddite who thinks that the coffee at Grind is going to be weak, I was just in need of that level of jolt. It's a customer service thing. It's also a matter of personal taste, I wanted everything that is a triple shot latte, the caffeine (did I mention that I needed caffeine?), the milky goodness, the coffee coffee taste. It also probably stems from too much time spent messing around with my own coffee machine and making really strong coffees.
Someone, anyone needs to start selling a Herculatte before I have to go back to Toronto and get one, but that would be an expensive cup of coffee.
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Friday, 18 May 2012
Thursday, 26 January 2012
Walk on by?
What would you do if you saw someone in need on the streets of London? On the underground? Or anywhere else for that matter? It's such a tricky situation if you happen across people in need when on your commute or thinking about what to have for lunch/dinner/snack. Admittedly our society isn't really conducive to intervening in such situations. Horror stories abound of The Good Samaritan gone wrong.
A few months ago, I took First Aid training for the work place with St John Ambulance. It's a one day course and enough to (hopefully) save someone from the worst case scenario as the ambulance is on its way as well as dealing with the obvious minor injuries in the office. You know, paper cuts and that sort of thing.
Shortly after the course I got chatting with a friend about whether or not we would stop and save someone having a heart attack in the street, they mentioned that they wouldn't give them the "kiss of life" and would merely walk past with the kind of anonymity that London seems to bring. Personally, I like to think and certainly hope that I would have the guts to stop and do what I could to help. Recent advice from the British Heart Foundation has been published to say that "just hard CPR" is an effective way to help someone in danger for those who are concerned about giving the kiss of life or who have not had training. Check out the video if you've not seen it, of Vinnie Jones in the campaign I think it's really effective and hopefully instils in people the mentality that you don't have to snog someone to make a difference.
Whatever your feelings are, kiss of life or otherwise, you can never truly predict how you will react until you are confronted with the situation. There are some incredible stories out there of human efforts to rescue their fellow man and these are stories to be inspired by. I recently read about the yachtsman Pete Goss who during a round the world yacht race in 1996, turned his boat back into hurricane conditions to save the life of fellow sailor Raphael Dinelli. While his story may be extreme and there aren't many of us that would face that kind of test, it shows the lengths that some people are prepared to go to when a fellow human is in trouble.
I think increasingly in London, people do walk past someone in need partly through a fear of getting in too deep (or worse). All you can do is trust your instincts. I'm not trying to preach here, just musing on the topic. After all, we Londoners walk by someone in need on a daily basis, you just don't realise it unless it's immediately obvious.
Recently I experienced two admittedly small incidents of people in need but they've definitely got me thinking. The first, a girl in her early twenties had a seizure on the tube. It was 8.40am the Jubilee line was absolutely packed after filling up at London Bridge. I jumped up and shoved the girl in my seat where she seized for the second time, her body going stiff and her eyes rolling back in her head. I looked for a medical bracelet or necklace to see if she were epileptic perhaps or even diabetic but couldn't find one and she came to just in time to look at me as though I was going to rob her. I yelled for someone to give her water and at the next stop, Southwark, took her off the train. A lot of people were in the carriage but I was the only person who disembarked the train with her. Perhaps people assumed I knew her as I was first to react but perhaps people were just worried about being late for work. After a few minutes on the platform spent trying to advise her to go to hospital to no avail there was little more I could do other than continue with my own journey to the office. My main concern was that the platform guard seemed to think she had simply fainted when this was just not the case. Anyway, she was extremely grateful that I had helped her off the train but it got me thinking about my previous conversation with my colleague and how if they'd been there they would have let someone else deal with the situation, but we can't all have that attitude. Admittedly, I was nearest but that's just how it was. People were yelling to get her off the train but was this out of concern or because they were after the seat?
More recently, I was reminded of this incident by another happening that made me feel annoyed, frankly. I rarely listen to my ipod when I'm out and about, I like to have my wits about me and I tend to save it for the train or the bus. On this occasion I had my earphones in, though not particularly loud music. I was mainly focussing on what to have for dinner when through the music I heard a lady ask no one in particular if she was at the crossing. The lady had a white blind stick (is there a technical name for these?) and I assume she was partially blind. I turned to her to see what she was saying and removed my headphones, when I realised she was confused I helped her to the crossing she wanted to get to. As soon as it was safe I asked her to take my arm and she refused. At the other side, I asked if she needed further help as when we were crossing the road she couldn't keep a straight line in spite of refusing my offer for guidance. She refused my offer of help and was genuinely so rude and ungrateful I felt annoyed and irritated that I'd even helped her in the first place. A simple thank you just wouldn't go amiss.
I think the riots back in August had many of us questioning our sense of community as a nation. Increasingly our lives are carried out online, our education system is failing people, the economy is doom and gloom, have we just stopped caring for our fellow man or is it just that I live in a big, bad anonymous city? I'm just constantly let down by strangers.
On a more positive note, there are good people and one of my favourite things of a morning is to read the Metro paper's Good Deed Feed which tells stories of the kindness of strangers and loved ones that makes you feel a bit more at ease with the ways of the world, as Rob Green puts it in his blog, the feeling of good will is quite contagious. Let's hope we start to see a bit more of it in 2012.
A few months ago, I took First Aid training for the work place with St John Ambulance. It's a one day course and enough to (hopefully) save someone from the worst case scenario as the ambulance is on its way as well as dealing with the obvious minor injuries in the office. You know, paper cuts and that sort of thing.
Shortly after the course I got chatting with a friend about whether or not we would stop and save someone having a heart attack in the street, they mentioned that they wouldn't give them the "kiss of life" and would merely walk past with the kind of anonymity that London seems to bring. Personally, I like to think and certainly hope that I would have the guts to stop and do what I could to help. Recent advice from the British Heart Foundation has been published to say that "just hard CPR" is an effective way to help someone in danger for those who are concerned about giving the kiss of life or who have not had training. Check out the video if you've not seen it, of Vinnie Jones in the campaign I think it's really effective and hopefully instils in people the mentality that you don't have to snog someone to make a difference.
Whatever your feelings are, kiss of life or otherwise, you can never truly predict how you will react until you are confronted with the situation. There are some incredible stories out there of human efforts to rescue their fellow man and these are stories to be inspired by. I recently read about the yachtsman Pete Goss who during a round the world yacht race in 1996, turned his boat back into hurricane conditions to save the life of fellow sailor Raphael Dinelli. While his story may be extreme and there aren't many of us that would face that kind of test, it shows the lengths that some people are prepared to go to when a fellow human is in trouble.
I think increasingly in London, people do walk past someone in need partly through a fear of getting in too deep (or worse). All you can do is trust your instincts. I'm not trying to preach here, just musing on the topic. After all, we Londoners walk by someone in need on a daily basis, you just don't realise it unless it's immediately obvious.
Recently I experienced two admittedly small incidents of people in need but they've definitely got me thinking. The first, a girl in her early twenties had a seizure on the tube. It was 8.40am the Jubilee line was absolutely packed after filling up at London Bridge. I jumped up and shoved the girl in my seat where she seized for the second time, her body going stiff and her eyes rolling back in her head. I looked for a medical bracelet or necklace to see if she were epileptic perhaps or even diabetic but couldn't find one and she came to just in time to look at me as though I was going to rob her. I yelled for someone to give her water and at the next stop, Southwark, took her off the train. A lot of people were in the carriage but I was the only person who disembarked the train with her. Perhaps people assumed I knew her as I was first to react but perhaps people were just worried about being late for work. After a few minutes on the platform spent trying to advise her to go to hospital to no avail there was little more I could do other than continue with my own journey to the office. My main concern was that the platform guard seemed to think she had simply fainted when this was just not the case. Anyway, she was extremely grateful that I had helped her off the train but it got me thinking about my previous conversation with my colleague and how if they'd been there they would have let someone else deal with the situation, but we can't all have that attitude. Admittedly, I was nearest but that's just how it was. People were yelling to get her off the train but was this out of concern or because they were after the seat?
More recently, I was reminded of this incident by another happening that made me feel annoyed, frankly. I rarely listen to my ipod when I'm out and about, I like to have my wits about me and I tend to save it for the train or the bus. On this occasion I had my earphones in, though not particularly loud music. I was mainly focussing on what to have for dinner when through the music I heard a lady ask no one in particular if she was at the crossing. The lady had a white blind stick (is there a technical name for these?) and I assume she was partially blind. I turned to her to see what she was saying and removed my headphones, when I realised she was confused I helped her to the crossing she wanted to get to. As soon as it was safe I asked her to take my arm and she refused. At the other side, I asked if she needed further help as when we were crossing the road she couldn't keep a straight line in spite of refusing my offer for guidance. She refused my offer of help and was genuinely so rude and ungrateful I felt annoyed and irritated that I'd even helped her in the first place. A simple thank you just wouldn't go amiss.
I think the riots back in August had many of us questioning our sense of community as a nation. Increasingly our lives are carried out online, our education system is failing people, the economy is doom and gloom, have we just stopped caring for our fellow man or is it just that I live in a big, bad anonymous city? I'm just constantly let down by strangers.
On a more positive note, there are good people and one of my favourite things of a morning is to read the Metro paper's Good Deed Feed which tells stories of the kindness of strangers and loved ones that makes you feel a bit more at ease with the ways of the world, as Rob Green puts it in his blog, the feeling of good will is quite contagious. Let's hope we start to see a bit more of it in 2012.
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
Hairdo or don't
Having my hair done is quite close to torture. I've never been able to stick to a hair dresser and envy those that have a nice, chatty, gossipy relationship with their hair dressers. One lady I know drives for over an hour to her hair dresser every 6 weeks whom she discovered while at university.
Frankly the whole thing makes me feel awkward. There's the awkward over friendly receptionists who joke that the bag you're carrying is a present for them even when you've never met them before. Then they mock you for not knowing how to react because you've never met them before. There's the awkward person washing your hair for you who may or may not be the same person cutting your hair. There's the slight fear that they might find something weird in my hair (irrational, I assure you). Then I always get annoyed that they never ask me what kind of shampoo I like/prefer/need. Then you have to pretend that you're comfortable when craning backwards over a sink is rarely so, not to mention pretending that you're ok with the temperature and the shampoo's not going in your eye.
Then they always towel dry your hair in a weird way that makes it a million times more tangled than it was to begin with. This leads to an annoying comment from the hairdresser about how tangled my hair is and I'm too awkward to disagree after having my head rubbed to oblivion and the consequent knots yanked with enthusiasm for what feels like ages.
Finally combed through, you have to face the fact that a complete stranger is going to be staring at your scalp for the best part of an hour. What makes this more awkward is the obligatory small talk that comes with having your hair done. Yes, you can read a magazine or a book but then they do that annoying readjusting-the-tilt-of-your-head thing. Can just about manage to drink coffee, my only solace during this time. The only choice you're left with is to stare into the mirror. For an hour with only the mind-numbing small talk for a distraction. My mirror time is usually limited to a quick glance here and there, brushing teeth, putting in ear rings, applying make up. Maximum 5 minutes. So to be effectively forced to stare at myself for an hour is not much fun. Moon face. Moon face, moon face, moon face.
After a bit of strained small talk to the tune of "Did you have a nice Christmas?" and "What did you get up to for New Year" the blow drying begins. I like this, just enough talk to make me feel less awkward (somewhat). After a while my head is generally feeling rather tingled as the skin has been pulled off my skull for some time but I like having my hair blow dryed as it actually makes me feel really sleepy. Really very sleepy. So as well as being generally awkward, I then look like a weirdo or one of those small animals you see on youtube as I actually can't keep my eyes open.
Finally, the tousling, preening and application of product leads to a shiny bouncey new hairdo and suddenly I remember why I booked the appointment in the first place. Cue strutting akin to mid 90's shampoo ads. This time, I might have found a hair dresser I can stick with, even if this is because it took less than an hour.
Frankly the whole thing makes me feel awkward. There's the awkward over friendly receptionists who joke that the bag you're carrying is a present for them even when you've never met them before. Then they mock you for not knowing how to react because you've never met them before. There's the awkward person washing your hair for you who may or may not be the same person cutting your hair. There's the slight fear that they might find something weird in my hair (irrational, I assure you). Then I always get annoyed that they never ask me what kind of shampoo I like/prefer/need. Then you have to pretend that you're comfortable when craning backwards over a sink is rarely so, not to mention pretending that you're ok with the temperature and the shampoo's not going in your eye.
Then they always towel dry your hair in a weird way that makes it a million times more tangled than it was to begin with. This leads to an annoying comment from the hairdresser about how tangled my hair is and I'm too awkward to disagree after having my head rubbed to oblivion and the consequent knots yanked with enthusiasm for what feels like ages.
Finally combed through, you have to face the fact that a complete stranger is going to be staring at your scalp for the best part of an hour. What makes this more awkward is the obligatory small talk that comes with having your hair done. Yes, you can read a magazine or a book but then they do that annoying readjusting-the-tilt-of-your-head thing. Can just about manage to drink coffee, my only solace during this time. The only choice you're left with is to stare into the mirror. For an hour with only the mind-numbing small talk for a distraction. My mirror time is usually limited to a quick glance here and there, brushing teeth, putting in ear rings, applying make up. Maximum 5 minutes. So to be effectively forced to stare at myself for an hour is not much fun. Moon face. Moon face, moon face, moon face.
After a bit of strained small talk to the tune of "Did you have a nice Christmas?" and "What did you get up to for New Year" the blow drying begins. I like this, just enough talk to make me feel less awkward (somewhat). After a while my head is generally feeling rather tingled as the skin has been pulled off my skull for some time but I like having my hair blow dryed as it actually makes me feel really sleepy. Really very sleepy. So as well as being generally awkward, I then look like a weirdo or one of those small animals you see on youtube as I actually can't keep my eyes open.
Finally, the tousling, preening and application of product leads to a shiny bouncey new hairdo and suddenly I remember why I booked the appointment in the first place. Cue strutting akin to mid 90's shampoo ads. This time, I might have found a hair dresser I can stick with, even if this is because it took less than an hour.
Sunday, 27 November 2011
I bloody hate pigeons.
If there's one thing I hate about London, it's the pigeons. Mostly, I accept that they are really an almost integral, iconic part of London but can't they just leave me alone?
It started a couple of years ago when I seemse to see dead pigeons everywhere. On one occasion, I was on the phone telling my friend that I was freaking out because I was seeing dead pigeons everywhere and while I was telling her, I SAW A DEAD PIGEON!!
From then on, I couldn't really cope with pigeons, alive or otherwise. More recently, my neighbour below me decided to start feeding them from her window. At first, I put up with it because I just thought maybe she had some extra cereal or crumbs to get rid of. As it turned out, it wasn't a one off, it became a regular occurrance and it got to the point where pigeons were waiting, lurking outside the flat waiting for her to open her window and flinging cornflakes out onto the street for them.
I live on the second floor, at the same level as the lamp on the streetlamp outside. The streetlamp is where the pigeons would wait, clubfooted and staring for the cornflakes. They sit there in a line, waiting for their free meal. Then, their confidence grew and they started sitting on MY window sills all the while defiling them with their diseased shits. So whenever me or one of my flatmates walked near the window or opened the window, we became a pigeon target and they would fly at us in their infinite stupidity and quest to satisfy their hunger.
After a while, I got paranoid that they were going to end up flying into my flat, flapping around and keeling over which would be my worst nightmare. T and I were away for about two weeks back in September on a trip to Canada. When we came back in the morning, walking up the road to my building there were about 20 pigeons on my window sills. I was so annoyed, not only that but by this time, other birds were getting in on the action as well, I think they were ravens. When I see pigeons in groups like that, I just feel like they're plotting something. I don't know why my neighbour decided to feed them like this, maybe she's just seen Mary Poppins one too many times (love that movie).
Fact is, they were pooping on my window sills and the food all over the pavement would surely only lead to more offensive vermin like rats coming in close proximity to the building. Eventually I asked her to stop feeding them and she's stuck to it for which I'm grateful. Although part of me misses the daily battle against the pigeons, it's a relief that they've more or less gone.
It started a couple of years ago when I seemse to see dead pigeons everywhere. On one occasion, I was on the phone telling my friend that I was freaking out because I was seeing dead pigeons everywhere and while I was telling her, I SAW A DEAD PIGEON!!
From then on, I couldn't really cope with pigeons, alive or otherwise. More recently, my neighbour below me decided to start feeding them from her window. At first, I put up with it because I just thought maybe she had some extra cereal or crumbs to get rid of. As it turned out, it wasn't a one off, it became a regular occurrance and it got to the point where pigeons were waiting, lurking outside the flat waiting for her to open her window and flinging cornflakes out onto the street for them.
I live on the second floor, at the same level as the lamp on the streetlamp outside. The streetlamp is where the pigeons would wait, clubfooted and staring for the cornflakes. They sit there in a line, waiting for their free meal. Then, their confidence grew and they started sitting on MY window sills all the while defiling them with their diseased shits. So whenever me or one of my flatmates walked near the window or opened the window, we became a pigeon target and they would fly at us in their infinite stupidity and quest to satisfy their hunger.
After a while, I got paranoid that they were going to end up flying into my flat, flapping around and keeling over which would be my worst nightmare. T and I were away for about two weeks back in September on a trip to Canada. When we came back in the morning, walking up the road to my building there were about 20 pigeons on my window sills. I was so annoyed, not only that but by this time, other birds were getting in on the action as well, I think they were ravens. When I see pigeons in groups like that, I just feel like they're plotting something. I don't know why my neighbour decided to feed them like this, maybe she's just seen Mary Poppins one too many times (love that movie).
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
Here it is
So, welcome to my blog about life in London. London and I have had a rocky relationship these past few months and I'm determined to get back that lovin' feeling. I've lived here for six years since I moved here as a student, and most of that time I've loved it and I still do, but recently I've become increasingly disillusioned. I know I'm not the only one and I know this deep disappointment I'm feeling isn't just about the city, it's more political than that and I'm not going to go into it here, plenty of people are doing it already. There are so many things to be fed up with or pissed off about that I've decided to write this blog as a way of helping me re-discover the city, my faith in people and an outlet for the occasional rant, of course.
My main purpose is to explore London more, the hidden nooks and crannies and to spot the little details that so often go un-noticed. Hopefully, it will lead to some interesting discoveries about London, its people and its eccentricities and maybe even uncover a few stories along the way. I want to be a bit more open to all that London has going for it, all the cultures, all the people that live here, it's so diverse. We're all guilty of being grumpy to the point of ridiculousness on the tube, in rush hour, packed in like sardines, well I am like that off the tube, a lot of the time. I am known for being pretty grumpy really, I like to call it 'no-nonsense' but really, I am a grumpy sod - I think I get it from my Dad!
I'm not going to say this will exclusively be about London, there's bound to be some other stuff thrown in but all with a London theme.
My main purpose is to explore London more, the hidden nooks and crannies and to spot the little details that so often go un-noticed. Hopefully, it will lead to some interesting discoveries about London, its people and its eccentricities and maybe even uncover a few stories along the way. I want to be a bit more open to all that London has going for it, all the cultures, all the people that live here, it's so diverse. We're all guilty of being grumpy to the point of ridiculousness on the tube, in rush hour, packed in like sardines, well I am like that off the tube, a lot of the time. I am known for being pretty grumpy really, I like to call it 'no-nonsense' but really, I am a grumpy sod - I think I get it from my Dad!
I'm not going to say this will exclusively be about London, there's bound to be some other stuff thrown in but all with a London theme.
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