Café Spice and Harrods Ham

17-Feb-09 - I've been doing some calculations and I reckon that a London taxi now costs about 75p a minute off-peak and about £1 a minute at busy times. You might find this useful when budgeting for journeys across town: I sometimes have to be on the other side of the city for subsequent appointments and have had ample opportunity to observe this. Look at Google maps, plot your start and finish positions, and read off the number of minutes, then get cash at the station before embarking. It works well.

I had ample opportunity to test this theory with two visits in town, one to interview Cyrus Todiwala at Café Spice Namasté and the other at Harrods Food Hall for the launch of its new specialised shop selling 5j jamón Jabugo. Both these events will be written up in the April, 2009 issue of YES CHEF! Magazine, so I won't go into too much detail at this time except to say that if you're looking for somebody who's had a really tough mountain to climb to get where he is, Cyrus Todiwala is your man. Today he presides over the Café Spice and Parsee restaurants as well as a cookery school for amateurs and professionals, and a burning zeal to teach people that 'Indian-Indian' cooking is not the same as 'British-Indian' cooking. More on this when the mag comes out.

I got a cab back to Knightsbridge and found myself with two hours to spare before the ham bash, and so retired to Tattersalls Tavern on Knightsbridge Green, which was a bit busy upstairs (it was about 18:15) but relatively quiet downstairs where I availed myself of a steak-and-ale pie with chips, peas and gravy and a couple of glasses of Argentinian Malbec, which went down splendidly with the Evening Standard (I keep looking for evidence of editorial interference by the new ex-KGB owner but there is, as yet, no sign). Eventually I sauntered over to door 11 of Harrods, which is on Hans Road, and to which I had been directed by a telephone call earlier in the day. Needless to say this was not correct, and I was redirected to door 5, which is diametrically opposite on the other side of the building, on Hans Crescent, which road is closed for, well, whatever it is they're doing: almost every road in London seems to have works traffic lights at the moment, but at least the Knightsbridge Underground sign provided a useful landmark.

Once inside, however, I was greeted warmly by the scarcely-pronounceable but very attractive Emily Thoubboron from LDR PR (which company had organised the bash), and delivered to the food hall, which was already throbbing. The ham company (Sanchez Romero Carvajal 5j) is in the celebrated village of Jabugo, where the very finest ham comes from, and has belonged to the Osborne family since 1983. This connection was good, as it meant that there were copious supplies of fabulously yeasty, well-chilled Fino Quinta (delivered by a venenciador) to go with the jamón. Also featured was Rioja Montecillo (another part of the Osborne empire - and many times have I lunched with the feisty María Martínez, the winemaker at the bodega) for those who preferred red. I also spotted trays of fizz and wondered if the family had ventured into the Cava business. I took a glass with great interest, but was disappointed to discover that it was, in reality, a rather dismal Champagne. No matter, however, as there was plenty of Fino and the ham simply melted in the mouth, as always. In the background there was flamenco, dancing, music and all sorts of things going on but the food hall was wall-to-wall people. I bumped into Félix Benito and his team from C&D wines, and the ever-lovely and ageless María-José Sevilla from ICEX, as well as many other members of the great and the good.

On the way out we were all presented with a goodie-bag of Osborne Sherry vinegar and a half bottle of Fino Quinta in the obligatory Harrods bag (a very desirable item, so I'm told) and my car was on time opposite the Underground sign. I resisted the temptation to swig the Fino on the way home (I am on a diet, after all), and when I looked for it the following morning Jill seemed to have hidden it. However, by that time I was back on the régime with no prospect of a let-up for at least a week. The trousers are feeling a bit looser, though.

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Papa's Got a Brand New Bag

17-Feb-09 - This is extremely silly, of course, to get all nostalgic over a ragged old canvas bag, but it did have provenance. When you go to exhibitions and trade fairs they very often give you a shoulder bag, usually packed with leaflets and catalogues, and oft emblazoned with the name of the fair. Madrid-Fusión is rather more discreet, with just the Spanish colours embroidered on to the flap, but there's more to it than that. Not many people get invited to the show (which takes place in Madrid every January), and those who do recognise each other in later months and years by the fact that they're still using the bag. For example at the Restaurant Show the year before last I was talking to Charles Campion of the Evening Standard (et al) who's still using his, and my winewriting colleague Sarah Jane Evans is still using hers. The bags were all a bit the worse for wear, but they were so well designed that Charles said he'd even considered asking his cobbler to make up a leather version: two compartments, one big enough for a laptop, the other documents; several pockets, and holders for pens and a mobile 'phone; and an adjustable shoulder strap. The clips on mine had given up the ghost a few years ago and I replaced the strap with another one from an inferior bag I'd been given at the London Wine Trade Fair.

The bag dated back to the 2005 Madrid-Fusión, since when it's been with me all over the UK as well as back to Spain (30 times), France (14 times), Portugal (7 times), Italy (3 times), Belgium (twice), Holland (twice), Ireland, Brazil, Austria, Moldova, Romania, Gibraltar, Chile and Argentina. Given that it was really only ever intended to survive the show, it has done very well, but one of the pockets had worn through and the main zip was coming away from the fabric, and it always had been just a bit small for all the junk I carry around with me.

So this morning I gritted my teeth and went out and bought a new one: it's a bit bigger, but with all the secure pockets and plenty of spare room, even for a shirt and bogbag for an overnighter. It does the business, and only cost £20, but... It doesn't have the bandera español. No longer will I meet a complete stranger carrying the bag with the colours and nod, smile, and acknowledge that I, too, was at Madrid-Fusión, amongst the world's culinary élite. I was in London later in the day (see following post) and seriously considered cutting out the colours from the old bag and pasting them on to the new one, but by the time I got home Jill had emptied the bin. So long, old bag. We went through a lot together.

Well, I did say it was extremely silly.

Allende at Hibiscus

16-Feb-09 - As it happens I had a telephone conversation with Claude Bosi for a feature we're doing in YES CHEF! Magazine in the summer, just before he learned that he'd won back his second star in January, 2009, after moving Hibiscus from Ludlow to Mayfair, but that's not why I was there. I'd been invited by Damian Carrington from Fields, Morris and Verdin, who import the wines of Finca Allende in Rioja. This, in case you've missed it, is one of the so-called 'new-wave' bodegas of the region, run by Miguel-Ángel de Gregorio, who grew up on the Marqués de Murrieta estate, where his father was the winemaker. He worked in the industry after graduation, most notably perhaps at Bodegas Bretón, before setting up on his own in 1995 in the fabl'd village of Briones. Since then his wines have become legendary as examples of what I call 'post-modern' Rioja - taking classic, traditional methods and reinventing them for the 21st century.

The tasting was to showcase wines going back to the earliest vintages, both white and red, as well as to taste the current vintages from Allende and Gregorio's new venture in La Mancha, Finca Coronado.

This is how it went:

Allende Blanco 2003, 2001 and 1999. These are wines barrel-fermented in new Alliers with considerable batonaje over six months with a further 12-15 months in the barrel, and I treat them together as I found them all disappointing. The grape mix varies from 80:20 to 60:40 Viura:Malvasía, and the colours ranged from full straw to pale gold. The 2003 had a lovely, soft, herby, musky, 'honeysuckle' nose with vanillin overtones, and some rich fruit with crisp acidity on the palate, but showed a hint of oxidation on the finish which did not bode well. The 2001 was showing that hint of oxidation on the nose as well, and in spite of a 'big, meaty palate' seemed to be tiring on the finish. The 1999 was, frankly, well past its best: not exactly fading but with that 'almond paste' nose and fairly prominent oxidation on the finish. Miguel-Ángel insists that the wines are 'for eternity', but I suspect that he was in the minority on this occasion...

...Especially as the 2006 (£16.55 - BBR, Brompton Wine, Bacchanalia) showed so magnificently with the amuse-bouche (a poached egg-yolk in a palm-heart sauce, served in an immaculately-beheaded eggshell with a toasted 'soldier' - delicious) and the fish course (carpaccio of pollack with black radish - sublime). The wine offered lovely, silky oak leading to bright, clear fruit and a crisp, well-balanced finish: excellent.

I asked him whether he'd be looking at the newly-authorised white minority varieties: Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc and Verdejo. He was unequivocal: "never, never, never!"

The reds are another matter, of course. They all showed very young, vibrant purple-ruby colour and I asked Miguel-Ángel what he though was the optimum age for drinking. In his disarmingly honest way he simply replied that he didn't know: "they haven't been around long enough yet."

Although he has an understandable fatherly attachment to his whites, the reds are the wines which have built the reputation of Finca Allende. Calvario is a small (less than 2ha) vineyard planted in 1945, which Miguel finally bought after years of courting the previous owner. The wines are made from Tempranillo, Garnacha and Graciano and aged in new Alliers for 14-16 months:

Calvario 2004 - Dark purple//big spiky, spicy fruit, some richness//big structure, tight fruit locked into a tannin 'shell'; complexity on the mid-palate and an austere finish but with real potential. 2-5 years 17/20.

Calvario 2001 - Purple//more aromatic, perfumed, delicious floral, almost blackcurrant undertones//very clean, crisp tannins and excellent balance, still some austerity on the finish but excellent structure. 2-5 years 17/20.

Calvario 1999 (the first vintage) - Ruby//much more aromatic, perfumed, elegant, floral//the tannins are still there, but fruit is coming forward, very elegant structure, complex finish, but STILL needs 2-5 years! 18/20

Calvario 2005 is the current vintage (£63.60 BBR) - Purple//big, soft, rich fruit, power and warmth. This was magnificent with the main course (double breast of squab with confit leg: probably the best pigeon I have ever tasted, melt-in-the-mouth tender... But then, Claude Bosi does have two Michelin stars). The finish I noted as 'soothing, smoothing, excellent'. Weird or what?

With the pigeon we were also able to taste the 2004 Finca Coronado (£15.60 BBR, Brompton Wine Co., Bacchanalia) from Gregorio's estate in Argamasilla de Calatrava in La Mancha. Here he grows Tempranillo, Cabernet-Sauvignon, Syrah, Merlot and Petit Verdot, mechanically harvested, destalked and fermented for 20 days before spending 14 months in Alliers. This had dry 'crusty' tannins on the foretaste but with that rich Cabernet-Sauvignon 'blackcurrant' slipping in on the mid-palate: a delicious wine in a rather 'new world' style.

Aurus wines are Finca Allende's 'flagship', made from old-vines Tempranillo and Graciano, hand selected in the vineyard and then again in the bodega before a 30-day fermentation and 24 months in Tronçais oak.

Aurus 2001 - Purple//big, rich, deep-dark fruit, subtle, aromatic//bigbig fruit bigbig tannins, enormous structure, power, richness, fruit, but austere finish with elegance and warmth. 18/20.

Aurus 2000 - Purple//ripe warmth is creeping in here, rich, aromatic, delicious//just fab mid-palate with perfect balance between fruit and tannins but still tremendous potential; long, dark, austere finish, still needs time, but singing. 19/20.

Aurus 1996 - Purple-ruby//rather subtle, slightly 'gamey' style//lipsmackingly crisp fruit, clean, still some austerity, long STILL NEEDS TIME! 18½/20.

The current vintage is 2005 (£107.65 The Vineking, Bolton Food and Wine) and we had it with a very nice selection of four ripe cheeses served at the right temperature - there was Brie, Stilton, Comté and something else and the waiter explained that the restaurant's policy is not have a truckload of cheeses but to have a smaller number of favourites which can be maintained at service temperature so that diners will always be able to enjoy them. We certainly did with the Aurus: huge, blockbusting fruit on the foretaste, well able to cope with the ripest of cheeses, incredibly long but... It's still not really ready. Oh well...

These are magnificent wines and have already become some of the 'new classics' of Rioja, and it'll be a great pleasure to follow them as they mature - assuming they're not all sold before that happens.

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Biting the Bullet

14-Feb-09 - Rather appropriately for Friday 13th, yesterday was a trip to the Royal Sussex Hospital in Brighton for a capsule endoscopy (you know, you swallow a miniature camera and it takes pictures of your insides). This is part of a long-term ongoing series of procedures to do with a vitamin B12 deficiency - I won't bore you with the details. The visit itself was fraught: the Royal Sussex is the size of a small town, and there was no map, so, of course, we ended up at completely the wrong end, there was nowhere to park and the lift to the second floor had broken down. I sat outside in the freezing wind while Jill queued for nearly half an hour to get a parking space, and we eventually got to the relevant department 40 minutes late. The staff, however, were absolutely wonderful, and the whole thing was sorted out in 20 minutes. So what has this got to do with 'biting the bullet'?

Well, it's not so much the hospital visit as the events surrounding it. If you've read earlier posts you'll know that I am continually threatening myself with going on a diet, but also that, given what I do for a living, it's not easy to get going. Working from home is another disadvantage - you're just too close to the kitchen... And the wine cellar.

Let's go back to Thursday 12th: I was allowed a light meal at lunchtime (some rice, chicken and a poached egg) and then nothing but water, juice and other drinks until 10:00 pm. At 6:00 pm I had to take a sachet of that stuff which clears out all your tubes, and after 10:00 pm I wasn't allowed anything at all. To make matters worse, I woke up in the night with an appallingly painful attack of gout in my left foot, which kept me awake almost until dawn. So my visit to the hospital was a uniquely painful experience, leaning heavily on a stick and every step like treading on knives.

The following morning, after the visit, I was allowed a light snack at lunchtime (plain chicken sandwich) and then water or soft drinks until the process was complete. At this point I had had no food for 24 hours and nothing but water for 39 hours. I had to stay on water (plus a sneaky Lucozade) until the procedure was finished, at 7:30 pm, at which point I was able to disconnect the kit and get back to normal. A large one suddenly revealed nuances of flavour and complexity I had never suspected, and the bottle of Darien 2004 we had with a chicken korma and rice had rich, blackcurrant and vanilla aromas which wafted across the kitchen as soon as I pulled the cork. My senses of taste and smell had been markedly enhanced by a period of abstinence.

So during this 48-hour period I had had time to asses the various aspects of what was happening. I know little of medicine but I suspect that the gout is somehow related to the vitamin B12 deficiency, and that the vitamin B12 deficiency is somehow related to being overweight, and probably that too much alcohol is a contributory factor to being overweight, although my GP and the nursing staff at the surgery and the hospital have always been too polite to say so. I decided, however, that I did not ever want to go through what I'd been through over the previous two days ever again.

Back in 2003 I did a charity weight-loss on the radio for the local children's hospice and lost 16kg (2½ stone) over six months, by the simple expedient of only having something light in the middle of the day (perhaps a sandwich or a bowl of rice or cereal) and no alcohol until after 6:00 pm. In addition, however, I still had to continue working, so the diet had to fit around my working life: if I was attending a lunch, dinner or wine event then I'd have to juggle things around as best I could. It's not a quick way to lose weight (the last time averaged out at 1¼ pounds a week), but it's manageable and it works. Having subjected my body to a 'boot camp' régime for the last two days I decided that this was as good a time as any to kick-start a new diet. I'll let you know how I get on.

A Busy Day - Wine+ and Lindfield

03-Feb-09 - And surprisingly trouble free, given the rather gleeful abandonment of the railway timetable by the Southern Railway Company. My gig at Wine+ was scheduled for 15:30, so ordinarily I would have taken the 12:06 and arrived at Olympia about 14:00, but the National Rail website was very vague and the helpline was busy, so I decided to go earlier, just in case. It was as well. At the station the destination boards were all in neutral, and the ticket office said that it was taking about three and a half hours to get to London. A member of the station staff did come out and explain what was happening, however: after the disruption of Monday all the trains and train crews were in the wrong places, and, of course, it takes time to get them back where they're supposed to be. But there was a train on the way - the slow train to Brighton, stopping at every station - and then change for the London train at Brighton. There were continuing announcements about 'severe weather conditions' as I sat in the sun looking across the tracks, where not a shred of snow or ice was to be seen. Oh well.

To cut a long story short we eventually arrived in Brighton 42 minutes later (after a ten-minute wait for a platform in the New England tunnel), to find that the London train had been delayed and so was still in the station. I hopped on gratefully and was delighted to find that an attractive young gel with the drinks trolley was able to dispense much-needed central heating against the 'severe weather conditions'. We arrived at Victoria about 13:50, with a total journey time of 2h15 which, whilst not as good as the usual 1h20-ish, was better than I had been promised. I had originally planned to jump ship (train) at Clapham Junction and get a cab from there, but given the 'extreme weather conditions' and the fact that there are only about four spaces on the taxi rank at CLJ I decided to go to VIC instead, where there are two ranks plus the Buckingham Palace Road 'hole in the wall'. I arrived at Olympia at about a quarter past two to find the event in full swing. There were some grumbles: a few of the exhibitors were still struggling to get there, and a few more were complaining that they'd expected more visitors, but it was early days (Wine+ runs for two days) and needless to say the tube wasn't running between Earl's Court and Olympia (a really big help!) until later in the afternoon.

The event was, however, a masterpiece of organisation, and for my particular gig a tremendous vote of thanks to the lovely Beatriz Blázquez of Wines From Spain. On Thursday last I was told that I had to source the wines for the tasting, that they had to come from exhibitors, and that the tasting list was needed for the following day. I 'phoned a couple of exhibitors who were quite happy to donate one of the wines, but not all four. I realised that this could turn into several days' work, which we hadn't got. So I 'phoned Beatriz and, within 24 hours, she had arranged the wines, the delivery and everything. In addition, on the day she came up with 40 miniatures of La Guita Manzanilla, which I'd requested but which hadn't been on the exhibitors' list until the last minute.

Me, and Chris Cooper on the right

So, it was all going terribly well. I was co-presenting with Chris Cooper, head sommelier at St Alban on Regent Street, and the tasting theatre had 42 seats, which we filled. Sue Prain from YES CHEF! Came along with the banner for the mag (we were sponsoring the tasting) and we got under way on time - we only had 30 minutes to get through the five wines. The title was 'Challenging Pairings' and we'd chosen three canapés which might be deemed 'difficult' to match with a particular wine: chorizo, sweet potato bhaji, and chilli prawn, and five wines to see if they matched. These were they:

2007 Louro Godello, Rafael Palacios, DO Valdeorras - Georges Barbier of London (georgesbarbier@f2s.com): this is a very delicate, dry white, and many of the tasters liked it with the bhaji, and several liked it with all three, although Chris and I did think the chilli prawn overpowered it a bit. A lovely wine, nonetheless.

La Guita Manzanilla, Grupo Estévez, Berkmann wines - our last-minute arrival in miniatures (delivered by the fabulously attractive Clare Leech) wasn't properly chilled but we were grateful to have it. I've always advocated chilled Manzanilla with spicy foods, and it did the business for me with the chilli prawn. Indeed, several people thought it went with everything, and we couldn't disagree.

2007 Antea, Marqués de Cáceres, DOCa Rioja, Doudet & Major (01-730-821-744) - this is barrel-fermented Viura with a little Malvasía Riojana, and I chose it because of the extra richness (not sweetness) it has on the mid-palate thanks to several months on the lees. It was excellent with the chilli prawn but perhaps upstaged the bhaji in the spice department.

2007 Cuatro Pasas, Martín Códax, DO Bierzo, Liberty Wines - this is a very young Mencía with a great deal of fresh acidity and crisp fruit, and was one of the favourites with the chorizo, although we all thought it was still a bit young for the job. Promises extremely well.

2002 Valenciso Reserva, DOCa Rioja, Boutinot - this is, of course, a classic match with all kinds of tapas and was sublime with the chorizo. I asked Chris about recommending a wine such as this with chilli prawns (or any kind of fish) and he said that it all depends on the customer: one of a sommelier's talents has to be that 'mental telepathy' to suss out just how adventurous he or she is prepared to be. The general consensus was that this wine was the best overall for the food pairings, although at £15-16 it was also the most expensive.

After the tasting I popped round to see a few old chums (including Tim Stanley-Clarke on the Viniportugal stand) before grabbing a cab and heading south.

A full house (click to enlarge)

I got lucky with the train back, as well. I only needed to get to Haywards Heath so I could take a Brighton, Eastbourne or Littlehampton train and, in the event, there was a Brighton service on platform 17, leaving in ten minutes. I clambered aboard the rearmost coach (it was a 12-coach train and absolutely packed, of course) and grabbed a seat in first class. For once, the guard announced that the seats were declassified due to overcrowding, so no surcharge to pay.

I was met at HHE by David Macmillan of the Mid-Sussex Wine Society at about 18:30 and, being early, we repaired to the Red Lion on the High Street in Lindfield, a few hundred yards away from the King Edward Hall, where the tasting was to take place. I don't know if you're familiar with Lindfield but it's one of those beautiful, (almost) unspoilt villages with which Sussex is so blessed: a real High Street with real shops, several pubs, and two or three decent restaurants as well, an avenue of lime trees (looking a bit brutal as they'd just been pollarded) and some lovely old buildings. The Red Lion is a proper pub (no idiot teenagers drinking alcopops) and they do an excellent post-15:00 meal deal: steak or lamb or gammon with chips and peas, and a glass of wine for £5.99 all in. I had the gammon and pushed the boat out a bit (at David's expense) with a couple of extra glasses of wine and portion of béarnaise sauce (surely the king of sauces, except maybe for pepper. Have I said this before?). An observation: as I was asking for another glass, a man passing by bent to pick up a £20 note from the floor and put it on the bar. "Looks like somebody's dropped this" he said, as he went out. I handed it to the barmaid who thought I was using it to pay for the drinks. "It's not mine", I said, "it was dropped on the floor. Somebody'll probably come to claim it." She put it on one side and charged the drinks to David's tab (thanks David!). Civilisation or what?

The tasting started at 20:00 and they'd left it to me what to choose. I went for Spanish as I can do a tasting without notes and, in any case, everybody (except wine snobs) loves Spanish wine. This was what we had (all from Majestic because they deliver):

1) 2007 Martín Códax Albariño, DO Rías Baixas - £8.49 - This was just about the favourite wine of the tasting. Afterwards there was about three-quarters of a bottle left and everybody wanted another taste. I use it as my 'benchmark' Albariño: when I taste other examples I ask myself "is this better or not as good as Martín Códax?" Lovely, fresh, peachy fruit.

2) 2007 La Serrana Tempranillo, VdlT Castilla y León - £3.39 - I chose this purely on price. It's a simple, gluggable, everyday red with absolutely no pretensions. Made by a co-operative and for general drinking. No-one's going to write a book about it but I did recommend it in SPAIN magazine a couple of months ago as a great barbecue wine.

3) 2006 Corona de Aragón, Grandes Bodegas y Viñedos, DO Cariñena - £6.49 - made by a holding company representing no less than five bodegas in the DO (and the biggest joint venture in Aragón), this is a pure Syrah aged in American oak, big, spicy and delicious.

There was a break here for the raffle. I bought two strips of tickets but didn't win anything (story of my life).

4) 2006 Vilosell, Tomás Cusiné, DO Costers del Segre - £8.99 - They weren't too keen on the stripy label, thinking it looked a bit old fashioned, but the wine (Tempranillo/Cabernet-Sauvignon) showed well, with a lot of fruit: strawbery/raspberry from the Tempranillo and blackcurrant from the Cab. Delicious.

5) 2004 Castillo El Destaca Crianza, DO Ribera del Duero - £6.49 but they've sold out - which is not surprising. This is another co-op wine but beautifully made and wonderful value for money: very popular on the night.

6) 2002 Castillo Establés Reserva, DO La Mancha - £4.49 - I was a bit miffed about this because my wine club has just sent me six bottles at about £8 a time. I must have a word with them. But the wine was nicely mature (we were tasting in vintage order rather than price order), warm, ripe and drinking well.

They all went down very well, and they were a very enthusiastic bunch. The society had laid on a taxi to take me home at 22:15 (which was just as well as, apparently, the last southbound train from HHE had left at 21:00) and I was home by just after 23:00 and getting stuck into a large KyB. A good day.

...But it never snows in Worthing!

02-Feb-09 - That's not strictly true. We seem to have our regulation one day a year of light dusting, and the county grinds to a halt, of course. Last year it was the 6th of April, and in 2007 it was January 24th. On that latter date I was supposed to be going up to London for a meeting, and I got as far as Haywards Heath before the train was terminated. The waiting rooms and the buffet were cram-jammed full of people desperately hoping for a train, and I froze almost to death on the platform waiting for a connection. In the event, a train did arrive, but it was heading back home again, so I gave the whole thing up as a bad job.

This year the snow started yesterday afternoon, and I was scheduled to go this morning to Great Milton in Oxfordshire to interview Raymond Blanc at Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons. This would involve catching the 07:03 from Worthing to London Bridge, cab to Marylebone, then the 09:20 from Marylebone to Haddenham and Thame Parkway, and a further 20-minute cab ride to Great Milton.

By 18:00 last night I began to realise that this journey was never going to happen: even if I could get there it would probably be mid-afternoon, with little prospect of getting back before midnight, if at all. Jill made no bones about it: "the deadline's not until the end of the month, so why don't you just go later in the week, or next week?" I rang Le Manoir but, of course, it was a Sunday and neither RB nor his PA were there, so I left a message saying that I'd like to reschedule the interview, and left my number. I then cancelled the cab I'd ordered to take me to Worthing station at 06:45 this morning.

It was just as well. I woke at 06:30 this morning to find the heaviest fall of snow we've had in Worthing in the ten years we've lived here - it must have been an inch thick. Yes, I know, that's peanuts if you live in the dales or Scotland, but it was enough to frighten the horses in West Sussex. The National Rail online timetable was in chaos, and trains were being cancelled half way through their journeys or even before they started. All London buses had been cancelled (including night buses, to the chagrin of restaurant and other late-night workers who rely on them to get home), LHR had been closed (perhaps good news for Stuart Gillies at Terminal 5 - see post 23-Jan-09) and the world ground to a halt. Someone on the TV remarked that they close the Trans-Siberian railway when the temperature hits -50ºC. It seems that we have a lot to learn.

London tomorrow for Wine+: train to Clapham Junction and a cab to Olympia... We shall see.

The courtyard garden at The Eversley

View from the front of The Eversley