are chocolate frogs endangered species?

I tried bringing some of those chocolate frogs back to the UK, but the Belgian 70% cocoa chocolate and the Brazilian liqueur filling seems to be too much for some people.

These are the only survivors from a box originally containing a dozen.

small guide for discerning cup-cakers

I've tested cup cakes in Magnolia's on Bleeker and also Primrose's in Covent Garden and now I'm starting to sense the march of American variants throughout the United Kingdom. I gather Marks and Spencer is about to start stocking the American type.

I thought it useful to publish a definitive guide before we all forget what British cup-cakes were like.

My view is illustrated above.

The British cup-cake was really a 'fairy-cake' made from victoria sponge with a dab of water based icing and something on top. A high sponge to icing ratio.

Chocolate cup-cakes were a factory made flat-top usually of chocolate, lemon or orange and undecorated. Crunchy hard icing edges.

Children's parties would feature Angel cakes, often partially made by the children, where the top of the cake was cut off, divided in two and then fashoned into wings, stuck on with butter icing.

And now - Thunk - the American variant.

Equal cake to icing ratio. Luminous colors(sp). Much topping to augment the icing part. Extended waistline because they are usually baked in American muffin cases rather than the smaller (UK) cup-cake sized holders.

I sense an invasion.

And in a related confession, I do like Cinnabon (in small quantities), which is another invader which used to only be available in the USA but has stealthily crept into Britain.

cover up

Back in the UK.

Zoe has sent the updated cover to the publishers.

I really need to spend some time reviewing the proof this weekend.

a mermaid, a shiny city and a low star

Three small marvels in one day.

The first, in the morning at the Temporary Apartment, is the faint singing sound that comes from part of the room. A high-pitched modulation which I can't quite locate. I've decided to consider it to be the song from a not-too-distant mermaid.

The second, in the early evening, slipping through clear skies over London at 500 miles per hour, banking to see all of London spread before me and a feeling that I could hold the whole golden glittering city in the palm of my hand.

The third, as I headed home and looked to the now inky sky, was a bright extra star, sparkling low and near. The space station shining as the brightest object just 200 miles above and speeding across the night.

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watching Gefjun plough a legendary field

I took a short walk from the Temporary Apartment today, following the footsteps of Ragnarsdrápa, which tells of when Gylfi promised Gefjun all the territory she could plough in a single night.

The story runs that she turned her four sons into oxen, and the land they ploughed out of the earth was then thrown into the sea and became a big new island- the one my Temporary Aprtment is on. The hole created where the land had been previously became a great lake called Lögrinn.

I've just been walking across part of the island to where the great fountain depicts the story, showing Gefjun at work. There's an inscription something like "Ærr ertu, Loki, ok örviti, er þú fær þér Gefjun at gremi, því at aldar örlög hygg ek, at hon öll of viti jafngörla sem ek. (Watch out - Loki, you'd be mad to mess with Gefjun - she'll set the fate of all of us)

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i discover the shop has an intrinsic field subtractor

Laying here in the Temporary Apartment, I'd almost decided that it was time to stop writing about The Nearby Shop That Never Opens.

That was before I realized the awful truth. I think the shop has some sort of intrinsic field subtractor playing with reality.

Here's today's example. I walked to the shop and examined the doors.

Lights off at peak time, all closed, so no surprises.

But what was strange was that behind the glass of the doors I could see new boxes upon boxes of pristine brightly coloured flowers. Tulips, daffodils and similar varieties. The kind that people would want to buy and put into Temporary Apartments. These flowers were completely blocking the doors making it even more difficult to get in.

Of course, the shop was still closed in any case.

And then, as I was about to walk away, I nearly froze in my tracks.

I'd inadvertently glanced towards the corner where I'd originally discovered the chocolate frogs. I didn't previously explain, but there were industrial quantities of these shiny frogs in boxes piled to the ceiling. Different brands and different flavours. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, liqueurs and fruit fillings. An impossibly inedible large quantity.

But this is the strange part. In two or three days, they have all gone. Who consumes such quantities of chocolate frog? What demographic? How can there be such a quantity of purchases from a store which is mainly closed?

It makes no sense unless an alien force is at work.

I will wait until tomorrow to see whether an intrinsic field subtractor has similarly affected the tulips.

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I am visited at the Temporary Apartment by an out of town friend

The Temporary Apartment was extremely useful today, when I received an email from a friend in a nearby country who said he could pop over for dinner this evening.

He lives around an hour from here and arranged his schedule to be able to arrive at my temporary front door this evening at around 19:30.

We then headed to a nearby restaurant advertising Australian Cuisine, and selected a light supper whilst we swapped stories from our recent exploits. He had even noticed TNSTNO without any prompting from me and commented that he knew this type of shop had certain reputations.

I offered him a chocolate frog before he picked up his car to start the car and ferry ride back to his own home.

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back in the Temporary Apartment

A pretty smooth run back to the Temporary Apartment, with renewed clothes and some supplies based upon last week's learnings.

I'm pretty sure I'll need to find a way into The Nearby Shop That Never Opens again this week, but I smiled as I arrived to see it at security level 4 in total darkness.

It seemed slightly loopy to have brought certain supplies from Sainsbury's in the UK, but now I think I was right.

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airport ipod tunes for Sunday

Listening to my iPod at the airport.

Hey, remember the time when I found a human tooth down on Delancey? Hey, remember that time we decided to kiss anywhere except the mouth? Hey, remember that time when my favorite colors were pink and green? Hey, remember that month when I only ate boxes of tangerines? So cheap and jooo-cy.

Tangerines.

Hey, remember that time when I would only read Shakespeare? Hey, remember that other time when I would only read the backs of cereal boxes? Hey, remember that time I tried to save a pigeon with a broken wing? A street cat got him by morning and I had to bury pieces of his body in my building's playground. I thought I was going to be sick.

I thought I was going to be sick.

Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Parliaments? Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Marlboros? Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Camels? Hey, remember that time when I was broke. I didn't care I just bummed from my friends.

Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum...

Hey, remember that time when you OD-ed? Hey, remember that other time when you OD-ed for the second time? Well, in the waiting room, while waiting for news of you, I hallucinated I could read your mind. And I was on a lot of stuff too, but what I saw, man, I tell you it was

freaky, freaky.

Thanks Regina.

trying to decide whether jags, beemers or alfas best in car chases?

Back in the UK for a few hours, with a feeling that I'm in some kind of car chase, though not as good as the smokin' one developing with clarissa and petunia.

It started when I landed and got a lot of those little bleepy message on my phone, like the ones I'm always a bit scornful of when I hear everyone else switching on their phones. All those important messages - yeah right.

Zip through Heathrow using IRIS the eye scanner with my checked baggage arriving at the belt within about two minutes.

Pickup by the man with the card, except he knew me well enough to not need to hold it up, followed by a speedy ride home. But pretty much every minute has been filled and I've already had to tip out the case and refill it for my trip tomorrow. I'm sensing the helicopters circling again.

I shall try to pause for a moment now and savour this evening with all the systems unplugged.

improving my knowledge of the local transit systems

Today we decided to use the Temporary Apartment as a base for some of the work. I needed to go into the city centre later in the morning and instead of travelling to the western side of the city and back, it was easier to meet here.

My fleeting raid on The Nearby Shop That Never Opens yesterday meant I had secured some modest supplies; coffee, milk as well as the chocolate frogs, so I was able to entertain my co-worker visitor as we planned all manner of business in this impromptu meeting place.

I had also made a small separate excursion to the city centre on foot during yesterday afternoon, and found that a bus 26 also seems to pass quite close by. As we took a taxi to the centre for the meeting, I found out about the local clips of tickets, a kind of mechanical version of the Oyster card, which could be used to travel around on the transport system, with each click lasting for one hour. Sadly, another Local Shop With Mainly Cigarettes And Soda advertised them, but had run out of the much desired '3 zone' version of the tickets.

But by the evening I became the proud owner of 10 clicks worth of transit system tickets and already used it for my trip back to the airport.

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security lapse at TNSTNO

There was a brief security lapse this afternoon at The Nearby Shop That Never Opens. The gruff looking dog logo is emblematic of this retailer, which we have decided is a front for something altogether more sinister.

The shop isn't open in the morning or evening although it will sometimes have lights on inside, provoking us to wonder what they do in there. Today, I arrived back at the Temporary Apartment at an unexpected time and noticed a significant number of shadowy figures inside the shop.

Sure enough, they had accidentally broken protocol and left one of the doors unlocked so that a group of customers had rushed inside.

But the shop owners are good. True professionals, they were determined to prevent sales if at all possible.

Their plan was simple: tip cardboard boxes of random items onto the shelves, without labelling or pricing.

This went well beyond usual clever retailing (the virtuous household purchase next to the beer etc.) Pencil sharpeners next to washing up liquid and bars of apricot creme wafer biscuits. A television aerial and a selection of festive neon cup-cakes surrounded by a display of differing thickness clothes lines. Two six metre racks of brown and blue cardboard boxes containing wooden parrots and self assembly stacking tables.

But we all walked around excitedly trying to find things to put into the bright yellow baskets. It was too much of an occasion to be missed. The person in front of me bought milk, an eggcup shaped like a small elephant and a toy telephone. I couldn't resist the plum flavoured chocolate frogs.

Later this afternoon I noticed that TNSTNO was again in darkness. Maybe they are awaiting a fresh delivery of goldfish shaped flashlights.

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