meemalee

We're standing in a line and she walks up and down. Her face is inscrutable, by which I mean it's on its default setting of pissed off, and we're wondering which of us is for the chop. I say which of us, but I know I'm safe, though some of the others are definitely not leaving on time tonight. "Kate Simpson, Hannah Jones, you two stay behind. You've not even made an attempt to hide the fact you're caked in blusher". She then gets a cotton wool pad, dips it in toner and begins wiping down our lashes - looking for that tell-tale black smear that denotes Rimmel's finest. Some girls are ahead of the game though - as well as the wondrous White Musk perfume, the Body Shop sells a clear gel mascara to foil such fascist tactics. Granted, its gluey formula makes them look like startled kittens with conjunctivitis, but it's guaranteed not to leave an inky trace. As we wait our turn, it doesn't seem to occur to any of us that this is, if not an infri...

[ Housekeeping - I've decided to write a bit more about stuff other than food. I will still be writing about food though. Please do not be alarmed ] I walk home on autopilot, as I do every day, past the myriad shops that barely make a dent on my consciousness. The school outfitters where my parents are forced to buy every purple piece of uniform that makes us the laughing-stock of the other pupils in the area, the newsagents that sells huge bags of broken sweets for 50p but take an eternity to serve, the chippy surrounded by a stifling haze of rancid fat - all of these blur as I quicken my step. And as I walk, I slowly replay the day's events in my head. I think about my urge to stick my hand up, even as I feel everyone's eyes burn into the back of my neck. It doesn't matter how often they call me "bod", or "swot", or "teacher's pet" - it's like I have some kind of smart-alec Tourette's. And I sigh and I think at least the teach...

Odd place, Manchester. Almost as odd as Woking .

Hard though it may be to believe, MasterChef isn't my favourite TV programme. Not by a long shot. That honour goes to the quiz show University Challenge as hosted by the redoubtable Jeremy Paxman . I've always been good at quizzes so, unsurprisingly, it was always my dream to go on University Challenge (I was that kid from Starter for Ten , though I did have a brief flirtation with Blockbusters ) and, as a student, I very nearly achieved that dream - I was the reserve for my college team and, wonder of wonders, they passed the auditions and actually got on the show. So I trundled along with the team up to Granada studios in Manchester in the hope that someone would get food poisoning and I'd graciously step into the breach and save the day. But no, they were all fine. And after that, I graduated and I thought that was that. This is in my parents' house. Not mine. Then one day, bored at work, I was reading a trade paper when I saw an ad asking people to apply for a sp...

When I'm not eating, I'm singing Although these days, I have a passion for post-rock and Mike Patton , I think it's fair to say that as I was growing up, my taste in music was fairly theatrical. The very first album I ever bought was Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat (with Jason Donovan, natch). To this day, I can still remember it word for word. All throughout school and university, I sang soprano in chamber and chapel choirs and as part of an a cappella ensemble. Frankly, it was all a bit Glee . I even sang tenor in a male voice group (I am female, I just happen to have quite a broad vocal range and I was at an all-boys school at the time - I'll explain another day) where we merrily piped out barbershop tunes such as " My Evaline " and " Old Man Noah ". Sadly, the only time I get to sing these days is at karaoke. Although I did do a tiny set at a company shindig last October, which was a pretty damn cool experience and managed to ass...

I am not paying £17.50 for one cinema ticket. However, though I may not get round to seeing the Alice in Wonderland film, I did pay a visit to the Alice in Wonderland Pop-Up Shop. I'd been to Claire's Accessories where they stocked a range of Alice gifts, and had bought myself a cute little White Rabbit brooch and a Cheshire Cat satchel. When I'd paid, the girl gave me a key and told me to go to their pop-up Alice's shop for a special surprise. So the next day, I trotted off to Maddox Street and this is what I found ... Meemalee in Wonderland Alice herself ... I swapped my key for the real thing ... A wall of locked doors greeted me - my key fit one of them and I claimed my special surprise ... And then I joined the Mad Hatter's Tea Party for a lovely cake and a nice cup of tea ... But soon it grew late and it was time to go ... My magical prize ... The Alice in Wonderland Pop-Up Shop "Alice's" was a temporary installation set up by Claire's Ac...

I make no secret of the fact that I'm obsessed with Japan. Obsessed I tells ya. One of the many reasons I am a steadfast Japanophile is this little shop on Takeshita Dori , Harajuku. I think it sells jeans and stuff, but who really cares. I'd much rather believe it was an anatine containment facility.

... barely made it back alive. They got some weird stuff going on there ...

A fortnight ago, my husband was looking up Noel's House Party on the internet (don't ask). This in turn led to him doing an image search for " Mr Blobby " (really don't ask). In amongst the pictures of the yellow-spotted pink abomination nestled an even greater insult to nature - the feller above, Latin name Psychrolutes marcidus , common name "Blobfish". No, seriously. Slightly over-excited at this discovery and wanting to share the love, I immediately went on Twitter and posted a link. It got retweeted a couple of times by the Twitterverse. And then I thought nothing more of it. Until a couple of days ago, I opened up my copy of Metro and found this staring back up at me: Coincidence, much? I went back on Twitter to share my concerns. And got this response: And indeed the Mirror had also written about our friend, the blobfish. This was getting ridiculous. I think the height of newfound blobfish hysteria was finally reached when Mr Blobfish featured...

Dearest Mister Mike Patton , many happy returns on this your 42nd birthday. Age cannot wither you, nor custom stale your infinite variety. ( cartoon by Brian Walsby ) ( "Reunited" video from the Faith No More Reunion at Brixton Academy )

Without wishing to offend the myriad fans of the marvellous Sir Terry Wogan aka his TOGS (Terry's Old Geezers and Gals), I kind of wish this headline wasn't just metaphorical. ( More on Terry Wogan versus Chris Evans here )

I only know three things about Michael Bublé. Michael Bublé's surname is pronounced "Boob-lay". Michael Bublé is addicted to pain . Michael Bublé thinks his mum is hot. I quote: "I looked at my mom, who was my date, and said, 'Mom, you look hot'" That is all I know, and that is all I need to know. 12/01/10 EDITED TO ADD: So it turns out that Michael Buble got engaged this weekend (and not to his mother) ie mere days after I published this post. Coincidence? I think not.

It's my 100th post! To celebrate, I'm ramping up the cute factor with a few Burmese cats. By "Burmese cats", I don't mean Burmese cats , although maybe some of them are, because I can't really tell them apart. By "Burmese cats", I don't mean Birmans aka the Sacred Cat of Burma - incidentally, wtf? We're not ancient Egyptians. We don't worship cats. Nope, I'm just showcasing some cute little fluffy kitty-cats from Burma (although that third one below looks a bit evil to me). Feel free to imagine your own lolcat captions.

So last weekend I went to Butlins for " Ten Years of ATP ", the tenth birthday party of the All Tomorrow's Parties music festival aka ATP. I'm going to steal from Wikipedia to explain what ATP is all about. Named after the song "All Tomorrow's Parties" by The Velvet Underground, it was founded by Barry Hogan in 1999 as an alternative to larger, more corporate festivals like Reading or Glastonbury, with a tendency towards post-rock, avant-garde, and underground hip hop, along with more traditional rock fare, but presented in an environment more intimate than a giant stadium or huge country field. ATP is a sponsorship-free festival where the organisers and artists stay in the same accommodation as the fans. ... Artists, usually musicians (but sometimes visual artists like Matt Groening or Jake and Dinos Chapman) are asked to curate the festival by inviting their favourite performers to play. The idea is that it is akin to dipping into the curator's re...