RE: The Golden Ticket

I totally get what you guys mean, what are the goals that are achievable that i have always wanted to do before 30. I really don't get why girls make it all about kids and a husband, i want to have fun! I don't want to be tied down and thinking i wasted all these years when i could have done these things.

Sorry to break it to Mouri, but i have already done some of those on her list already. However, here are few i would like to add:

-Live abroad for a reasonable amount of time (NOT India)
-Take part in a musical stage show
-Visit the Great Barrier Reef
-Keep my eyes open throughout an entire helicopter ride
-Actually wear the entire contents of my wardrobe throughout a year, instead of buying new ones (more a personal goal i think)
-Take Salsa lessons
-Inspire sixth formers to form a Glee club (yes really!)
-Get a side part in a Bollywood movie
-Feel alive (not sure how, doing what, where but i just want to feel alive)
-Go camping and actually not moan about it the entire time i'm out there
-Get in touch with all my old school friends and stay in touch with them
-Visit Mouri!
-Go clubbing a couple of nights in a row with a group of friends including the lovely ladies on here and just go wild!

I can't think of any more but this proves how eclectic i am as a person, guess i am just looking for adventure more than anything else!

Sanoobar x

The Golden Ticket

After an interesting conversation with my fellow blog writer, Farah, I thought its time to make a list, things to do before 30 or The Golden Ticket. A list of things I’d want to have done if there were no limitations and no barriers. The Golden Ticket to a life filled with experiences.

On sitting down to make that list however it’s not as easy as you might think. Maybe I should put them into categories e.g. personal, work, just for the hell of it, miscellaneous. Do they need to be put into order of priority? ‘Pass driving test’ ahead of say ‘learn to crotchet’? Then I guess some things are dependent on others, ‘have first child’ can only happen once the ‘get married’ goal is fulfilled; at least if I still want my parents speaking to me.

In the end I decided the list must remain a work in progress and must only be filled with frivolous goals, with no place for meaningful life aims or professional development. With that in mind my provisional list stands as below, is in no particular order and is subject to change.

Start drawing again
Argentine Tango lessons
Complete at least one knitting project
Grow vegetables
Learn to swim properly!
Run 10k- time limit not specified
Go on another expedition- must be at least a week long and preferably somewhere remote
Learn to ride a bike!
Write something sizable (I know its vague)
Road trip through Europe
Learn to crochet
Keep bees
See the aurora borealis
Snorkel
Try sushi
Travel more (Vague again, I know, but then if I listed ALL the countries I want to see, well that would be a whole other list!)
Learn a language- I’m thinking Spanish or Japanese
Cultivate culinary skills
Own a cat!
Learn to make silver jewelry

Okay that’s my list for now! I urge my fellow bloggers to write their own list, think Willy Wonka!

Westfield Stratford

As i haven't done my bit for this blog, i thought i might as well start today.

Hello, my name is Sanoobar and i have an addiction. Such a serious addiction that it takes up my every thought, process and action during the day. I am, my dear readers, a shopoholic. Now before you scoff at my admission and think, typical a woman addicted to shopping, i need to show how badly i am obsessed with it. Westfield Stratford City has opened up just down the road from me and i have now officially visited it so often that i know the location of every store, brand and concession in its vicinity.

I know who will give you the best service and who will give you the less so friendly customer service. For the record, best service is at MAC where this lovely woman will give you one of the most unique make up sessions i have ever had. She didn't treat my acne like i was a leach and she listened attentively and talked about 'enhancing' my features rather than covering them up. For the guys out there, head to Burtons. We had a very polite sales assistant patiently size up my very impatient brother for a suit and even helped him plan what he was going to wear for a wedding for all three days (Asian weddings!).

The worst, now in any other high street, i would say Primark. However, they were floored by Forever 21. I wanted a cardigan hung up quite high in the store.. ridiculous i know. So i called the sales girl who went off to ten minutes looking for the pole to get it down, without telling me where she was going. After returning, she simply used a hanger and jumped up and down and pulled my cardigan off the hanger and down to my feet. She then picked it up off the floor and shoved it at me, lovely. The tills girl was even worse, she looked bewildered and kept asking whether my card was a debit or credit card, why this mattered, god only knows!

Food, now this is what i am most excited about. Firstly, Mr Pretzel is finally near me, hurrah!! The tasters they give out are simply heavenly so if you can't be tempted by a whole one, check these out. I am also a HUGE fan of Indian street food. For those of you who haven't tried it, head to INDIGO. They are in the food court, right next to YO! Sushi on the third floor and they do the best pani puri and bhel puri i have had in a long while. And before you ask, there isn't a beaker in site like.. ahem... Masala Zone.

Parking, now this is a very important thing to remember. They are giving you the first two hours free and take advantage of that, otherwise you will end up paying £2 an hour and it adds up. Also AVOID AVOID AVOID Sundays 6pm rush. It took me 1hour 30minutes, just to leave the car park. The queue in fact was so long that some drivers started to use the entrance spiral as the exit, total nightmare!

Anyway, enough from me. Please feel free and until next time, byeee!

The Problem with Being too Eager

Ward Round 25/8/11

Consultant: present the next patient..

Me: To self (not aloud hopefully) f**k, can't remember a thing about this guy! Be thorough!

So I start:

Mr X is a 61year old gentleman who came in with acute confusion and whilst in hospital had an episode of haematemisis for which he was given 6 units of blood...he is known to have liver disease, rheumatoid and type 2 diabetes... He had on the 15/8 an OGD showing varacies.. He is on Spiro, frusemide, propranolol...

To self: s**t I actually do remember this patient. Don't get the dates wrong now!

Aloud:

We think this patient has non alcoholic liver disease his liver screen is normal. He is due an abdominal uss today and a repeat OGD on the 29th...

Consultant: Well done! But what criticism can you make of this presentation?

Other senior doctor: It was too long, too much detail.

Me: to self- next time don't be so thorough!

St. Pancras Renaissance London Hotel - London's newest ornament

I recently found myself on Euston Road in King's Cross and walked right by the newly refurbished St. Pancras Renaissance London Hotel and I have to agree with all the gushing critics - that's one beautiful building. I'm completely in love with the idea of a hotel as part of an international train station. It's just terribly romantic, like something straight out of a novel. The setting would easily lend itself to some sort of epic Victorian saga of love, scandal and international intrigue. There's got to be a movie (no, not Harry Potter) or a book set there. If there's isn't, well, somebody should really consider writing one. As a public service. Something to give us lesser mortals a taste of what it would feel like to be a guest somewhere so opulent.

When I saw the building I just had to whip out my phone and join the huddle of tourists blocking pedestrians and taking pictures. Standing in front of the hotel it was as if the 21st century just melted away and I could almost see old England come to life in front of me, with men gallantly tipping their top hats and helping expensively dressed ladies out of horse-drawn carriages.

I'm not clever enough with my HTC Wildfire to convey the sense of glamour I felt but I'll share my amateur snaps anyway. If you're interested in reading further about the hotel and its history, check out the wikipedia page. The official Marriot website also has a lot more information as well as a gallery showing pictures of the interior. It's well worth a peek.

Red is the colour of love...

cup-cake (kuhp-keyk) noun

1. A small cake baked in a cup-shaped container (http://www.thefreedictionary.com/cupcake)

2. A muffin consumed by magic i.e. When a muffin and a unicorn fall in love they have a cupcake (http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=cupcake)

It seems like everybody’s on this cupcake trend at the moment and it’s obvious why. They’re utterly delectable and beautiful to look at. My personal love affair with the little treats started at university about four or five years ago…

The Islamic Society was running a bake sale as part of charity week, a huge annual fundraiser run across the ISocs of University of London Universities and one of the savvier sisters hit on the idea of asking local bakeries for donations. In hindsight, I suppose requesting local businesses to give a little for the greater good is a fairly logical thing to do when running a charity drive but we weren’t talking about any old local high street here. The campus was located in South Kensington, parked in the heartland of the greats of the British baking establishment. OK, OK ‘greats of the British baking establishment’ is probably going a bit too far but it is true that we were tucked between some excellent delicatessen chains. Alright fine, I actually have no idea because I never made it past the Paul’s opposite South Ken. Station but the point is, not even five minutes away from Paul’s, there was one place I hadn’t known about. One that was about to subtly but not insignificantly alter the course of my life (the food-loving part of it, at any rate) and take my taste-buds on a trip they would never forget. This place was (drumroll please…) Hummingbird Bakery.

Now, don’t groan. I know this place is super famous but it wasn’t at the time and, in fact, American style cupcakes were yet to break into mainstream consciousness so when Hummingbird generously donated a few dozen cupcakes to our cause (which I was told would otherwise have been criminally thrown away at the end of the day) they caused quite the stir…in my heart…my mouth…my tummy…mmmm...Oh, sorry, where was I?

To set the scene, our stall was located in one of the university building foyers. It was a fairly large space, dissected down the middle by two criss-crossing sets of stairs and teeming with students. The walls were concrete grey, the floors were granite grey and the stairs were…another shade of grey…and amongst all the grey and the hustle and bustle in walked some ISOC sisters, parting the crowd, bakery boxes held aloft in some sort of cupcake guard formation. As they approached the stall, expectant smiles slowly spread across their faces at the joy they knew they were about to impart and when they reached the table, they gently laid down their booty and lifted the lids to reveal the most delightful dozen sweet somethings I’d never imagined I’d see in my life. Row upon row of perfectly formed, cake confectionary generously iced in pastel greens and blues in Hummingbird’s stylized signature swirl, sprinkled with sugar confetti and snugly nestled in pleated paper wrappers. If cherubs (the cute kind, not the creepy, ugly kind) were real and able to metamorphose into a food, they’d be these cupcakes. No joke.

Drawn in by the force of their deliciousness, naturally, I had to have one of each. I mean, I had a hunch they were all the same flavour and just iced in different colours but just in case, I had to check you know? Besides, it was for a good cause (ahem) and boy am I glad I did because alongside the brighter, cockier, ‘Look at me, ain’t I fine?’ cakes was a small cluster of another variety. Iced simply in white, these cakes were more understated. The casual observer would probably dismiss them as plain, uninteresting, choosing instead to pay attention to their more obviously pretty sisters but the more discerning eye, the one that took the time to gaze on them a moment longer, would start to notice the unmistakable, refined elegance in their design. These cakes knew what they were about. They didn’t need to tart themselves up to attract attention. These cakes were quality.

Having sufficiently recovered from the sugar hit of my first two cherub-cakes, I was ready for my final purchase - the white one. I received the cupcake as a delicate gift. Wanting to savour the experience, I took the opportunity to examine it more closely, angling it against the light to watch how it played across its whippy frosting, gently testing its weight in my hands. Having whetted my appetite with my eyes I proceeded to slowly tease down the wrapper and my patience was rewarded with my first glimpse of red sponge. I was first surprised and then intrigued. I’d never seen anything like it. The red body, juxtaposed against the creamy white of the topping was stunning. Taken slightly off guard I didn’t know what to expect next but there was nothing for it. I peeled back a little more of the casing and eagerly went in for my first bite and as my tongue registered the combination of firm moist cake and soft, rich cream cheese frosting my heart just….*sang*[1].

And that was it. The moment I fell in love. That cake was the Kate Middleton to my Prince William.

***

Time passed and I’d think of this cupcake from time to time. I’d never caught its name and for some reason I never tried to find out. Perhaps I was afraid I’d built up the entire thing in my mind and that it wasn’t as fantastic as I’d remembered it to be. It was only cake after all…but I never forgot.

Instead, I tried to fill the hole in my life by making my own more basic cakes. I found a few recipes in my baking book at home and tried them out. I tried both vanilla and chocolate with buttercream icing. Sometimes I even added sprinkles. They didn’t pack the visual punch of the Hummingbird cakes, of course, but they were attractive in a rustic, home-made way and I enjoyed eating them, as did my friends and family.

Then a few months later an extraordinary thing happened. I was lounging on the sofa during one of my customary lazy Sunday mornings watching the BBC’s ‘Something for the Weekend’ with my mum when Simon Rimmer, the resident TV chef, started whizzing around the bright green TV kitchen putting together that week’s dessert. I’d missed the beginning of the programme so I just watched on in a mildly interested way as he started creaming together the butter and sugar and beating in the eggs one at a time. All standard stuff. I‘d know. I’d played the game myself so many times before but then came the game-changer. The colour red. I watched, entranced, as Simon continued whisking the batter, turning the spots of food colouring into bigger and bigger swirls of red until the entire mixture was transformed into a pool of high gloss red laquer and I knew.

I eagerly watched the rest of the segment. He started to whip together the frosting which looked fluffy and delicious but all I wanted was a name. Finally, the cakes were baked and slathered with cream cheese and prettily finished off with a crystallized rose petal for effect. The other co-presenters and the show’s guests all gathered around the edge of the kitchen counter-top and started to dig in when, finally, Simon turned to the camera and said the words I had been waiting for.

Red. Velvet.

I had a name! Red Velvet cupcakes. No sooner had the programme ended and I was powering up the computer to grab the recipe from the BBC website, just as Simon had suggested I should. Unfortunately, I had to wait a few hours for the latest recipes to be uploaded but no matter. I’d waited a few months, what were a few hours more?

I spent the interim period just googling for Red Velvet cakes. There were so many hits I was beginning to wonder why I hadn’t done so before. Later that day, I returned to the website and there it was. A list of ingredients, a set of instructions and my love. Despite my allergy to grocery shopping, I think I offered my mum to the do the weekly shop that same day and rushed out to my local Tesco to buy the things I needed. Philadelphia, yoghurt, red food colouring. I baked the cakes that night. We were re-united at last.

[1] I was not on drugs. They were properly tasty.

Life Experience

Death Certification

No spontaneous movements
No response to pain
Pupils fixed and dilated
No carotid pulse for 1min
No heart sounds for 1min
No breath sounds for 1min

Death declared at...

It occurred to me after certifying two deaths in as many hours that most people can go through their whole life without experiencing as much death as a doctor experiences in a day.

- Mouri @}---