boreders

Nigella Lawson seems to have a lot to answer for. Aside from being a kitchen tease and a bit of a MILF, she has set the country a-racing to try something different with a bit of gammon. There can’t possibly be any other good reason why I found myself wandering past the jam section of Tesco today to find a man weighing up the difference between two jars of Ginger preserve.

I guess it isn’t a surprise that Nigella Express has topped the bestsellers lists at Amazon and Waterstones, beating Jamie at Home by a long shot. I have to admit to buying a copy for my wife and searching round for the best deal on Ginger Beer at the supermarket today. It’ll be gammon for us too in the New Year!

So, whatever will TV cooks come up with next, exciting we home chefs into a giddy frenzy to do something just a little different? They’ve had us conjuring up special things, basic stuff and now we’re doing it in a hurry - next? Rustic style? Everything steamed? All prepared underwater?

Can’t wait.

Now, where did I put my Nigella video and that stainless steel reamer?

After a brief delay, I have now reinstated a few of the articles originally posted at the old Boreders - specifically my pieces on Manimal, Automan, James Bond Jr and Metal Mickey. I wrote all of these originally for h2g2 (the Earth edition of the Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) and these are the unmodified drafts. You can find the edited versions at the Guide (and quite high up in a Google search as well, I should imagine). I hope to sort myself out and put together some more - as I have a soft spot for short-lived US TV and light entertainment programming from the 1980s.

I was a little concerned yesterday when Eddie Mair asked Steve Clegg, new leader of the Liberal Democrats, to tell him something we didn’t know about him that didn’t involve his politics or his family upbringing. I have to admit I may have misheard the constraints of the question - or perhaps Steve did - but, Clegg promptly rolled out an answer that involved his post-War family upbringing shaping of his world view and current political bent.

Anyway, that aside, I seriously think I’m going to need someone to win me over to the Liberal Democrat cause for the future, especially the leadership (now that it’s changed yet again…). I have found myself swayed by the views of David Cameron far too often of late - and it’s possible I may have no choice but to reevaluate my options come the next General Election. Ten years ago, I’m certain I wouldn’t have had these sorts of doubt… but, now I’m constantly concerned about the way the current government seem to have gone off the rails and the ‘other option’ no longer holds the same allure.

Me… a Conservative (with a capital ‘C’) - whatever is the world coming to?

I noticed the cover of a paper had a story concerning South Korean scientists creating a trio of cats that glow red under ultraviolet light. Apparently, this breakthrough means a great deal to medical science. Creating clone cats that glow in the dark offers medicine the chance to experiment on curing human diseases. Um… because these cats glow. And… um… we all like people who experiment on defenceless animals.

No. I don’t quite get the connection either.

I can see value to the cat loving community, who could have cats that show up in the back garden if you shine a black light in the bushes. Yes, that makes sense to me. However, how this relates to furthering understanding in genetics and how animals, almost entirely unlike us, can assist in developing cures to very human conditions entirely escapes me.

The scientists seem to suggest that if we can create cloned animals with human-like diseases then we can more easily work on the discovery of cures - but, I’m drawn back to the memory of that drug trial where a chimp dosed with a new medicine suffered no ill effects, but humans who used a dose at a fraction of the strength turned inflamed into balloons.

Just for clarity, Mr South Korean Scientist, cats and humans are not the same thing. No even cats with human voices, like Garfield or Custard.

Last night I attended a preview event at the new Krispy Kreme store at the Trafford Centre in Manchester. This store represents the doughnut manufacturers first venture in the north of the country (I believe), as until now you have had to travel south to enjoy one of these glazed treats.

I found a rather swanky affair in full swing upon arrival with my family, largely because traffic between work and the store had meant more than two hours stuck on the motorway. Lots of guests, smiling staff, free doughnuts, free drinks - both alcoholic and not… what more could you ask of a Wednesday evening in the north-west of England.

We enjoyed a guided tour around the kitchen area and got the chance to make our own chocolate-smeared sprinkle-smothered ring doughnuts. The tour took us from first principles, through raw ingredients, mixing, proving, shallow frying, glazing and packing. My wife and I got a little disturbed at the pre-glazing and packing stages, as it appeared a sort of baked eugenics program meant a sudden end for any doughnut failing to achieve a certain degree of agreeable ringedness. The conveyor at the end of process carried doughnuts before the packers who selected and boxed most, but left the remainder to reach the end and fall into a black bin. In these lean times with environmental concerns, this seemed like a monumental waste.

Plagued with doubts, we stood on a knife edge torn between the taste of doughnuts and this apparent wastefulness. The owner, however, set our mind at ease. A congenial host, keen to engage with the gathering of invite-only guests and VIPs, he explained that doughnuts rejected from the process would normally be packed up and handed over to charities, who could then distribute the mishapes amongst the hungry and the homeless. I certainly intend to keep an eye on this, as if a preview evening can generate a bin load of sub-standard doughnuts, who knows how many might go to waste on an average weekend of full opening.

I enjoyed a beer, a coffee, something fruity and non-alcoholic and… e-hem… three doughnuts, before we all decided to head home for the evening. Collecting our coats, we walked away with three-dozen free glazed doughnuts (with the offer of another box that would have made it a dozen each) and a good feeling about the store. The people had smiles throughout and I enjoyed the food, so I’m sure we’ll be back again in the future when the Trafford Centre has fewer cars and Christmas shoppers in it.

Recommended!

Driving provides a thoroughly wretched barrier between home and work. I could enjoy my day far easier if not for the 90 minute plus commute (that can balloon to around 4 hours or more on a bad day). In a world struggling to cling on to the environment, where the atmosphere grows thin and thicker in all the wrong sorts of ways, we can do without road trips double or triple in size at the drop of a hat.

Curiosity seems to be a strong factor in the problems on the motorway. Yes, sometimes an accident will strew debris across the whole carriageway; but, more often than not the evidence of an accident gravitates toward the hard shoulder with considerable speed. Efficient emergency services want to get the traffic flowing again, but rubbernecking prevents that from happening. People cannot help but stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the smallest evidence of an accident. The chance to spot a drop of gore or a horrifically twisted wreck overcomes the natural sense of urgency that generally grips those doing 100 mph along the outside lane.

You can easily link congestion with rubbernecking just by taking an active part in one of the queues yourself. Having sat on the motorway for an hour covering half a mile, you finally reach the site of the accident - then, as if catapulted by an invisible siege engine, you go from 5 mph to maximum speed in the space of 6.8 seconds. The congestion dissipates in a moment, like a thin morning mist evaporating under the rays of the rising sun. It beggars belief.

Perhaps drivers should be required to wear some kind of crash-sensitive blinker system that prevents them looking left or right when within 5 miles of a pile up. You can see the value of the automatic traffic control seen in the movie ‘Minority Report‘, because taking the human factor out of the driving equation means more time moving toward your destination - and less time staring at insurance write-offs and distressed drivers.

I don’t have all the details, but I think it’s a warped mind indeed that pursues a sperm donor for maintenance payments when the lesbian parents break-up. The CSA may have some fine and dandy guidelines to follow, but if they’re following them to the letter (unlike most of the cabinet, who seem to really be struggling with rules and regulations) it really is time to reconsider the aims of the organisation. I understand the male donor here didn’t engage in a legal agreement and therefore left himself open to this sort of thing happening, but he wasn’t integral to the relationship and should have to foot the bill.

In a standard heterosexual break-up one side isn’t pursued for maintenance by the authorities on the basis of what fluids they brought to the party prior to the birth of their first kid. The partner needs to provide the support, whatever their sex. The other woman can’t sneak out of this one because she happens not to be the right sex to have done the dirty deed herself.

I’m all for allowing same sex couples to have official relationships, recognised in the eyes of the law. I couldn’t believe the nonsense spouted by a representatives of the Church the other week about the need for a child to have a father figure in the family, no doubt to instil a certain set of values. A child needs a loving, caring, supportive family - and if that happens to be two women, well - great.

So, enough of the inequality and bewildering decision making. Same sex couples have a part to play in the raising of children; and they have a part to play in the support of children when a relationship turns sour.