COP15 Part Nine

I know it has taken me a really long time to put these up. Christmas happened, it snowed, I had a motivational downturn. But having just this past Tuesday gone to a STA World Traveller Internship launch party, from which I am still buzzing, and Friday come back from a Stop Climate Chaos coalition meeting, it is time that I put the rest of my material from Copenhagen up here for everybody to remember. It is especially important at the moment in light of recent scepticism about climate change being man-made. My mother also thinks I should shut up now. What she doesn't know is that I plan to go to COP16 in Mexico, right, I'm going to go by ship in time for Day of the Dead, which is on my list of 'Ten Things to do Before I Die' (see a few posts ago) then stay for a month and learn Spanish (top of the list) And THEN go to COP16.

Vandana Shiva is amazing. We were tired and freezing cold at the halfway point but it was still a pleasure to hear this magnificent woman.



At this point with the cold and the tiredness, I nearly burst into tears when he announced that there were 100,000 of us. Being part of something so huge and so, so important was humbling. It was also the moment Joanna and I had the revelation that a Bailey's coffee was just about the best thing in the world we could think of, other than the world leaders agreeing.

Helena Christiensen. (From Fashion Model Directory)

Yes it's true, she is a nuevo-supermodel but she's also a photographer and great speaker. We were impressed. I found it quite empowering.



It's unfortunate that the longer we stood in the cold, the greater the desire of many to disappear to find coffee. It was so cold that I had split skin on my hands, so I think they can be forgiven!

Hannah is one of my best friends in the whole wide world. I missed her at the march but managed to arrange to meet up on Sunday 13th December at Klimaforum where I filmed this. Really, I felt a little naive about what Climate Camp were hoping to achieve so I asked questions to this end. Fikir's hat was pretty awesome too.



one last thing...

A recipe from Christiania for the vegetarian stuff they were doling out... I went into the tipi kitchen and asked them for it. Actually it's just a list of ingredients:

chickpeas butternut squash, potato, pumpkin, onion, garlic, leek, soy chunks, tomato puree, ginger, coconut butter, herbs, soy sauce. For cous cous parsley, carrot, sultanas, cous cous.

I might do some culinary experiments in the future.

Postscript

In order that you might understand my un-chronological blogging, I refer you to Borges' Garden of Forking Paths in the hope it might explain my ability to simultaneously be marching,interviewing Jonathan Neale, looking to the future, enjoying Christmas and making snow angels. It is the best excuse I can offer.

SMC 29th January 2010/ 31st January 2010

Yum Yum

Yum Yum
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

I ate it all up like a good girl. Thank you Billy. A fine idea. A fine food.

Omlette on a Muffin

Omlette on a Muffin
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

Oh look how pretty it is.

Omlette Frying

Omlette Frying
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

It is rotund and everything.

Everything in a bowl

Everything in a bowl
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

Oh, a Tomato

Oh, a Tomato
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

Tomato, tomato.

Why Not?

Why Not?
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

That's right, I'm putting Laughing Cow cheese in my omlette. I don't give a damn what you think. I think it's important not to be too snobby about hangover omlettes (although I don't actually have a hangover today, hooray!).

The Sun

The Sun
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

and it is a magic egg that shines like the sun on a bright day.

Only one egg

Only one egg
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

Oh no! There is only one egg. Oh well that's probably healthier than two.

Massive Garlic

Massive Garlic
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

Now I can see how the massive bulb of garlic may frighten some, but just think of the medicinal properties. Crush it in.

Leftover Red Onion

Leftover Red Onion
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

and the red onion used to make last night's pizza more interesting.

Leftover Spinach

Leftover Spinach
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

Take spinach leftover from last night's salad.

The Owl You Heard

This was on a Facebook application that I have but don't always look at today.

'Forgotten' Note to Housemates

'Forgotten' Note to Housemates
Originally uploaded by SoMiraculous

The Evidence

STA Travel WTI - The Gathering
Originally uploaded by statravelbuzz

See, there she is at lift off...Thunderbirds are go. (I'll show you what she wrote on the white board in her living room about my imminent arrival to London in a second).

Pumpkin Café Waitress.

I feel sorry for the woman who works in the Pumpkin Café on platform eleven at Temple Meads. I think she's German or from a country that borders Germany. She's never anything but polite and I'm sure she isn't stupid. She has to wear a maroon polo-shirt and a black baseball cap (I hate that Britain has adopted this ridiculous US tradition).
This morning, I notice a rash around her mouth, either an outbreak of acne or eczema or similar. And I think, the poor woman must be stressed. Here she is, stuck behind a till dealing with all manner of freaks on a daily basis for no money.
I say, 'Could I have a bacon bap please?'
She says, 'I'm just going to wash my hands first, is that okay?'
'Yes of course,' I say.
'Would you like a drink with that madame?'
(the madame grates, I'm not a plump middle aged woman who smells of patchouli and I don't think for a second she would normally use the term).
'No, thank you.'
'Okay...Have a good day!'she says, leaning over the counter to assert her geniuneness.
'You too,' I say (I really hope she does).
It's like a mask. What I want to say is, 'where are you from? What are you doing here? Are you alright?'

Leaving Dunster

Flamingos

I have work tomorrow, so it is very naughty of me to accept my friend Emily Mackie's request (backed up by girlfriend Amy and her sister Zoe, egged on by @kateosgreatos) to come a-gallivanting to Flamingos. I think part of the reason I agree is because the club is called Flamingos. In fact that has a lot to do with it. I don't know why. We get a taxi to Old Market, exchange some banter with the neon-jacketed doorman outside the club and go on in.
As we enter, the DJ calls out from his box above the dance floor 'talking of sexy bitches, this one goes out to...' and I smile. I haven't been to a gay bar for years (the last time I went, I almost threw up because I inhaled too much foam at the foam party). I've almost forgotten what they're like. There's some moving pictures on the wall that would really screw with your head if you'd taken acid, girls dancing with their tops off, proudly baring their bras, guys dancing with their tops of, proudly bearing their, er, pecks.
In the smoking alley, a transvestite stands at the end, smiling coyly through bright magenta tinted lips. She wears a blonde wig, mini skirt and a white tank top. She has quite a well developed upper body.
Elegantly, she lifts a fag to her lips as a blonde boy straight out asks Kate, 'so are you a lesbian then?' to an applause of laughter.
Inside a girl walks up to Emily, who has a boyish dress sense and a mohican and says 'oh my God, oh my god, my friend thought you were Gok Wan!' More laughter, this time from Emily and her girlfriend.
After some suitably camp 'of the moment' tracks (Lady Gaga etc.) what sounds like most of my old tape 'Hits 95' is played. When 2 Unlimited - No Limit comes on I shout to Emily, 'do you remember when they used to play this on Gladiators, as one of the Gladiators stood on that podium?'
She replies, 'I loved Gladiators, I joined the fan club. Shadow sent me a Christmas card.'
It takes a long time for my sides to stop hurting.
Finally, at 3am, as a tequila and lemonade (even the barman asked if I was serious) headache sets in I decide it's time to leave. Kate and I jump in a taxi and go home. I have one of the Worst Hangovers Ever the next day, but it was worth it.

Veggie Moussaka. (Recommended for students - lots of health and cheap)

Steal Quorn mince from your father's freezer at the end of a day writing (and joining a club devoted to stationery and making a paperclip necklace for it).

Go to Somerfield's, realise they have neither aubergine (eggplant to non-English-types) nor courgettes. They are rubbish. Although I like them more now that they've merged (or been taken over by?) the Cooperative. Even though I lost my Cooperative membership card with my wallet in Copenhagen. Anyway, head to onions, then to veg/salad area. pick up the following:

2x red onions (of which you will use 1 1/2 later)
1x garlic bulb (of which you will use 2 cloves later)
3x carrots (1 of which you will use later as it's pretty long)
bag of white potatoes (er, maybe 5 or 6 you will use later)
2x those long thin peppers (you know the sweet red pointy ones)
a handful of bog standard mushrooms (of which you will use 4 large ones, maybe 6)
bag of spinach (you'll use most of it saving a little for side salad)
quite a few tomatoes (all of them)

waltz over to the bit where the spices are. Buy ground cinnamon and if you don't have any either nutmeg or cumin (in this case nutmeg, realise you never needed cumin anyway)
pick up a tube of tomato puree.
Think hard about what you're missing... Wine! Spend 2.99 on cheap, exceedingly shit red (vino da tavolo, or 'table wine' to you and I will do just fine but make sure you have a decent corkscrew as the cheap corks are a bitch to get out).

Insist that you DO NOT need a plastic bag at the checkout and hastily stuff veg into rucksack lamenting bag of potatoes. carry pre-bagged stuff that won't fit in hands.

Triumphantly gallop (or gambol) home over slushy ground.

Get one fuck-off (large) pan, one medium and one small.

Whack oil in monster pan. Dice onion, crush garlic, chuck in when oil is hot (turn on hob first obs) dice peppers while singing along loudly to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack for the first time in years. Wonder when music cuts out, whether neighbours have burrowed into your internet and pulled a connection somewhere to shut you up.
chuck in peppers and mince. desperately try to ease cork from cheap red. In a panic throw in one of those chicken stock pots from that sell out chef. Realise this is no longer a veggie moussaka anymore but tell veggies to just substitute with veggie stock pot if they're listening.
Ask sister to help get cork out, yell that mince is going to dry out any minute. Have tug-of-war with bottle and corkscrew like the Giant Turnip tale. Give up, take out corkscrew, pull out cork with bare teeth. Consider how long it's been since last dentist visit. Remember that you owe money and that's why you've not been back.

Pour half the bottle (that's right, half) into the pan. Stir. Put more pepper than salt in (use common sense here, a pinch if you're too stupid).

chop tomatoes and mushrooms roughly. Chuck in. get pinch of nutmeg and pinch cinnamon. Chuck in. Stir. Squeeze about 1/4 tube tomato puree in. Rinse spinach. Chuck in. Wait for spinach to 'deflate.'

Cover pan and simmer while you finely slice the potatoes and put in medium pan with boiling water and a little pinch of salt.

Get what's left in the butter dish (a knob, ha ha ha) and put in small pan. Add flour to make a ghee. Slowly add milk. Realise you didn't have enough ghee, add cream. Realise it's still too thin. Add flour several times over. Add 2 eggs. Get handheld whisk. Advise everyone the country over to purchase electric whisk. Wonder why the top always ends up as plain cheese sauce rather than the fluffy deep top it's supposed to. Probably you need to use just the egg white. After ages get sister to whisk and thicken while you strain the cooked potatoes.. Transfer mince-y bit to ceramic-dish-for-ovens. Grandpa calls. Just as brother is talking to him, say 'FUCK!' really loudly in the background as you realise you have the wrong dish. Cover mouth and raise eyebrows and hope Grandpa didn't hear. He's old, he probably didn't. Transfer into Mega-ceramic-dish-for-ovens, take slices of potato and carefully create potato blanket over mince-y bit. 'Yey,' sister announces to suggest bechamel type sauce is thick enough now. Grab pan, swish sauce over potato, grab cheese sister kindly grated and whack on top. Shove whole thing in oven for about twenty minutes, glad mother is late home from writing-classy-thing.
Serve to family. Observe wondrous silence of everyone enjoying meal (other than brother's 'no points for presentation' and 'more potato than I had in mind' (he doesn't like potatoes))

Title dish: Mussange, Messaka or Shepherd's Mussange (mother thinks a cross between moussaka, Shepherd's pie and lasagna).

FIN

P.S sorry about lack of pictures, left SD card at makeshift office.

TTFN.

COP15 Part Eight

At the end of the Flood, we pass the tree installation that was outside Trafalgar Square (see Chloe Lambert's article on it: http://bit.ly/8b3zF2 )

Some people lie down on the ground. I am reminded of Radiohead's video for 'Just' but say nothing.

Here's Ozzie. He has brought the Bath Rugby flag 'because it's blue.'

COP15 Part Seven

The inflatable globe is caged and then released and then caged again. When the cage structure comes undone at the wheel, Joanna insists on stopping to help fix it. She's already stopped once to paint people's faces.





I think these guys are very sweet, silently raising their message written on the tops of umbrellas.

I suppose these guys are sweet too.

I'm not sure if they're Jain's. Have a look at the Jain beliefs concerning our universe, and more specifically their beliefs about where we are now. I may post my Jain essay on here at some point.

COP15 Part Six

When we've finally assembled ourselves at the door to the Klimaforum, someone from FOE tells us we are to walk around the corner to pick up our blue poncho's. I do not laugh. At all.

Joanna asks if someone can paint her face for her. I step up. Then realise everyone will know my fingers aren't as slender as I'd like, for the rest of the day. Then figure it's in aid of saving our planet and think, what the hell. She asks me to write 'act with love.'

Snow Hangover

After walking all the way from Stokes Croft to Bower Ashton in a few hours, rolling around in the snow several times on the way and stopping only for thali and chai at the new Thali Café at the top of Hensman's hill, I wake up the day after with glands looking as frog's skin blown out to attract a mate. Bunged up doesn't begin to cover it. One whole day I sit on the sofa. It's great. Then, this morning I wake up expecting to feel better actually feeling worse. I'll have to go and get that Lemsip. I don't usually do drugs. So I put on my hardcore boots, my hand knitted scarf and my in-aid-of-Tibetan-children's-villages hat and walk over the soft white blanket to Somerfield's. The queue ahead is long. The queue is unaware of it's humour. Everyone has a rosy tinge to their nose. The guy in front of me has a packet of paracetamol in his basket as well as two bottles of wine. The sound of the decrepit snake is one of baskets shuffling along the floor protesting the stall in their recovery without words. It's just a little cold people, we're all going to survive.

SNOW (Part Two - Photo Blog)