Author: Julia Thacker

Comedic novelist, committed bibliophile, afternoon tea blogger, walking personality disorder. Spoiling a good view since 1987 and other mental meanderings.

Ramen in the City: Sprouts, Ice Cream and Oodles of Noodles – SHORYU, Soho

Merry Covidmas, folks. As we battle through omni-bollocks and I go through the pain of losing someone to whom I was only good for a laugh (let’s be kind, let’s call him a c**t, and by c**t I of course mean clot. No major-league swearing before the watershed), myself and two girlfriends decided to hit the West End while it was still open for us to hit. Now, bear in mind that prior to putting on our festive sweaters we had consumed a large quantity of mulled wine and a rather horrid Prosecco at a drinks party. I also hadn’t eaten much that day, my main source of nourishment coming from three mince pies and a dish of grapes, so I wasn’t on the ball when it came to photo ops. Also, I didn’t really take any pictures of the exterior or interior owing to my mild state of inebriation (pissed as a fart). Furthermore, a man managed to knock a bottle of shoyu sauce all over my Queen ‘Innuendo’-inspired tote bag, so I spent a good portion of the meal wiping Japanese condiments off John Deacon’s face. If was a wild night

Wigilia in the City: A traditional Polish Christmas Eve in London – Kutia, Perogi and mead, oh my!

Merry Christmas, fellow festive foodies! Today we are celebrating the best day of the holiday season: Christmas Eve. Yes, before the meh-fest that is Christmas Day, there is a day in the festive calendar that is actually quite fun (unless you shop in WH Smiths, that is. Elf’s stocking shelves were busy ripping down store decorations at 14:00. May a partridge roost right up your pear tree for that kick to the jingle bells). I was invited by friends to celebrate a Polish Christmas Eve, complete with eggnog, beetroot soup and the always thrilling prospect of opening presents a day earlier than expected (as a Brit I can’t quite shake the feeling that I’ve done something my mum would disapprove of, like eating the trifle at Christmas dinner before I’ve choked down the sprouts. Wrong, but also kind of exhilarating)

Mince Pie in the Sky: Christmas feasting at Sky Garden, The “Walkie-Talkie” Building, City of London

Merry Decembermas, folks. Welcome to Sky Garden. Do you remember in the olden days when you could spontaneously decide to have a night out without being told you might kill yourself or others in the process? Those were good times. You didn’t need an app and a medical certificate and a Hazmat suit if you fancied a pint. It was a non-stop erotic cabaret. Well, despite the country going to buggery again, it is still possible to fiddle whilst Rome burns. I went online at 08:03 after hearing good things about the view from a friend of mine. By 08:06 I’d booked the last free ticket of the day and would start the 35 minute process of trying to find my NHS number so I could download a Covid pass (if I’d known that was a requirement prior to booking I probably wouldn’t have bothered, though if you haven’t actually set it up on your phone it is much more straightforward than you’d imagine. They find all the difficult stuff for you, but then, they bloody well should!). And that was it. Sky Garden, here I come!

Pigs in the City: Festive feasting at Fortnum & Mason, The Royal Exchange

I have relatively few treasured traditions when it comes to Christmas. I enjoy watching repeats of the Clarkson-era Top Gear specials on Dave. I like getting an advent calendar card and opening the little windows whilst traveling to work on the tube. I’m partial to going around food halls sampling broken biscuits and cubes of cheese on cocktail sticks. I also like wearing my favourite Christmas jumper decorated with two ginormous puddings on the front, the only nicely rounded shapes anyone will find of interest in that area. I also like to… Er, actually, that’s about it. If it wasn’t for the food and my love of multi-coloured fairy lights the month of December would be just as miserable as January, and believe me when I say that January is a dreary dumpster fire where a day lasts a week and people look like they want to stab you in the face (this may not be true of everyone. It could just be people who know me. Or I could be looking in a mirror. Whatever). This gloomy outlook is especially true this year, which is baring so many of the horrible hallmarks of last year that I’ve decided to rename December ‘Groundhog Month’

Tea Time in London Town: A visit to Twinings Tea Shop, The Strand

Greetings, faithful reader. You may have noticed that London is not running short of coffee shops these days. I’m not talking about the Starbucks / Nero / Costa chains knocking out megacinno’s with all the human warmth of HAL 9000. I mean artisan coffee shops. Personally, I like them. Most have comfy chairs, Wi-Fi and a nice sideline in chocolate brownies. However, the fetishization of coffee as a precious entity, aided by the fact that too many people have seen Friends and figure that drinking an espresso on a sofa is the height of urban chic, means that the joy of a humble cuppa seems a little old-fashioned.

Halloween in the City: Afternoon Tea review at the Croydon Aerodrome Hotel + Whitechapel ‘Jack the Ripper’ tour

Happy belated Halloween, folks. Yes, Halloween doesn’t seem to stick in the memory as much as Xmas, so in order to cash in on the last dregs of interest in this not-really holiday (if you don’t get a day off work it’s not a real holiday. The only advantage is that women can board the tube as Harley Quinn with a baseball bat and not get stopped by the transport police), I have done my own version of trick or treat, or trick and treat as I’m calling it.