Skip to main content

On strawberries and screen and a new doctor

Sporting events and me? Not so much.

Sporting events, me and a jug of PIMM’s? Sounding a bit better.

Sporting events, me, a jug of PIMM’s and Roger Federer? I’m listening.

Sporting events, me, a jug of PIMM’s, Roger Federer and an announcement for the new Doctor? SOLD!
Tennis! An excuse to drink PIMM's during the day!
Sporting events, me, a jug of PIMM’s, Roger Federer, an announcement for the new Doctor and finding out the new Doctor will be played by a woman? GET. OUT. SIGN ME UP. AM I IN HEAVEN?!?!

Big cities and big-ticket events go hand-in-hand. Melbourne in summer is all about the tennis and Grand Prix and music festivals, night markets and I can go on. But I must admit, the events during winter always made me more excited. Winter in Melbourne is the time when you spend hours going through the Melbourne International Film Festival (MIFF) guide, promising yourself you’ll only see five films and end up seeing at least ten. It’s the time when the NGV pulls out all the stops for their Winter Masters, leaving you equally awed and annoyed. (Will female artists ever get equal representation, NGV?) It’s the time when buildings you didn’t even know existed, open their doors just for you, and when authors from around the world hold audiences in the palms of their hands. (Oh, and there’s AFL stuff, but, whatever.)

As for London? Well, I mean sure, there is more than plenty to do in winter, but why would you? Summer is when London truly shines and if you don’t love England’s capital from July until September, you never will. After months of grey misery, London bursts wide open. Every street swells with people spilling out from neighbourhood pubs from at least one o’clock onwards (I know this, trust me. I watch it from my new office window). The parks become sought-after destinations at the weekend, and diaries fill to bursting with THINGS YOU MUST DO THIS SUMMER. Which is why, post Scottish mini-break, I am more than happy to settle into the city for the next few months… or at least until the end of August when I escape to San Sebastian for a few days. (I know. You hate me. Soz.)

And Wimbledon is one of the city’s best big-ticket events to welcome the summer season. (As is watching Love Island, but more on that later). Or so I have been told. The joy of attending Wimbledon is something I am yet to experience first hand. But this being London, just because I wasn’t organised enough to enter the Wimbledon ballot years in advance, or line up for tickets in the wee hours of the morning (or overnight) doesn’t mean I had to completely miss out. Oh no!

As the day of the men’s final dawned, I got myself ready to head to Lewis Cubitt Square near King’s Cross where a giant screen had been erected for people to watch the tennis throughout the championship. And of course, by 12.30pm – a time we felt would give us more than enough of a head’s start to find four seats together – the place was already packed.

Zeroing in on a spot, we muscled our way through the crowd and flung bags and jackets where we could to bags spots for our group’s late(r) arrivals. And though the match was still a fair ways away from beginning, I was off to the drinks stand for the obligatory jug of PIMM’s. Which was followed by strawberries and cream, which was followed the start of the match and by being boozed enough to almost cry when Cilic cried after the first set. This was then followed by Federer’s absolute domination on court, and followed again by a quick pan of David Tennant in the crowd (on screen), which was the perfect reminder that following Wimbledon, the actor playing the 13th Doctor would be announced to the world. Too. Much. Excitement. For. One. Day.
Legend part 1
I’m not going to use this blog post as a ‘think piece’ on my thoughts and feelings about the Doctor being played by a woman. There will be (and already are) plenty of those around. I just want to add my utter delight at the announcement. I’m more excited about the new season of Doctor Who than I have been about the show for some time. Tennant was the pinnacle and while I loved most of Matt Smith’s reign, it did all go a little down hill towards the end. And Capaldi? Well, I love him as an actor and he did a great job, but it just never hit the right tone for me. (Plus I never got over the 10th Doctor’s regeneration sob.)
Jodie Whittaker aka the 13th Doctor aka legend part 2

AHEM! Sorry, non-Doctor Who fans. I’m back!

Getting to watch the men’s Wimbledon final as I sipped my PIMM’s and held my face up towards the British summer sun, I couldn’t help but feel pretty lucky and excited for what this new season will bring. A season that promises a bounty of things to do in the city. A season that sees me starting a new job, with a new company. And a season that marks my first full year in London. But more on that later…


Popular posts from this blog

On brain freeze

Due to the inevitability of British Winter, my brain stopped working.  There will be a proper posting next week... probably.

On Arzak... a post in eleven dishes

Being a somewhat average human, with a somewhat average human's earning capacity, my experience of Michelin-starred restaurants is limited. So when I visited not only a Michelin-starred restaurant, but a 3-star Michelin-starred restaurant, you can bet I would be TELLING EVERYONE I KNEW ABOUT IT. Ahem. And so, I give you the degustation feast of restaurant Arzak, San Sebastian. A blog post in eleven dishes. Apparently not the start of the meal, just a teaser. Moringa and prawn (PINK) gyoza on the left. Banana and squid in the tree bamboo-thing on the right. Of course. (Forgive the crap photos - I took them in a blind panic not wanting to be 'that person' even though I was very clearly 'that person'.) Still haven't started yet. Just a taster! Marinated sardine and strawberry. Again, just a hint of things to come! 'Cecina' and kalamata on the right. Eel rod on the left with the log. I despair of people who never have a log on their dinne

On the privilege of seeing Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (no spoilers, promise!)

Beloved characters from books, films and television shows are often sacred ground for us fans. We have journeyed with them, taken them into our hearts and think about them when our real lives are being a little less than spectacular. And so, when these characters are revisited for what sometimes feels like a money grab, and what sometimes is (I’m sure) a form of closure for the creatives, we wait with the duelling emotions of hope and fear, wondering if those in charge are about to wreck everything. Most often than not, they do wreck things, a lot (Mitch Hurwitz and your Arrested Development season 4 shambles, I’m looking at you!). While I always want more Bridget Jones, Mad About the Boy didn’t quite do it for me and I’m terrified about seeing Bridget Jones’s Baby for fear that watching it will forever ruin the first film and first two books for me. Similarly, I’m nervous about the upcoming Gilmore Girls episodes even though I’d give my right arm to go back to Stars Hollow. And maybe