Looking Out To Sea

• The knife-sharpening blocks with the little circular grinding stones inside are very effective.
• Two of the fingers on my left hand would say “too effective”. Ouch, blood, etc.

Last week we started hunting for a new pan set, as we didn’t own any ordinary pans. We have a couple of Le Creuset cooking dishes but they’re not very practical for a lot of things — you wouldn’t whip up a chocolate sauce in one!

We found a nice set in Frasers, but it was the last in stock and one of the pans had received a substantial dent in the side, quite near the base. These things were quite sturdily built so it must have been some serious force that made the dent. We decided that it wasn’t worth the risk, even with another discount added for damaged goods. We found the pans for slightly cheaper online and they arrived through the post yesterday afternoon. (It’s interesting to see who comes snooping when you get stuff delivered to your work address. Some people you never expect turn out to be big cooking enthusiasts!)

The next problem is one of storage. We bought some metal kitchen shelves to store these shiny new cooking implements, but that means drilling and stuff, which I’m not really sure about. I don’t really know how to secure shelves to walls. I am a failure as a man. :-(

I have been more successful in other areas of the kitchen. Despite initial confusion (read: complete bafflement when reading the instructions) we now have two beautiful sliding bins under the sink, for separation of packaging, tins and ordinary food waste. This isn’t just rubbish, this is an Integrated Recycling System.

We also have a dining table and two chairs. I have run out of steam to assemble the other chairs, but with the window seat that still leaves room for four people to sit down together (provided they move the flat-pack boxes of course). If I get my act together I may get some photos of the new place online soon. It’s mostly boxes though…

We’ve been discussing what we would do for a dining table for a while now. The kitchen is a very important place for both of us and so the table has to be something inviting and comfortable to sit at. You might think “it’s a table, what can be wrong?” but there are uninviting tables. I think of these as Formal Tables. You know the kind — smooth and sleek, with expensive dark wood and a gleaming polish. You can’t put a coffee cup on a Formal Table. You certainly can’t put your hands on a Formal Table. Formal Tables have ten types of cutlery laid out on them. Formal Tables are cold even when they’re warm. Formal Tables are not for me.

But the big point in my mind, so big that I didn’t even notice it was there, was the fact that I wanted a normal table. I didn’t want fancy in any way — rectangular in shape, wooden in material, having four stout legs and being flat on top. You know: a table. And yet nothing we did could satisfy such a simple request. It was either legs in the wrong place so someone could be assured of an uncomfortable seat, or artificial aging and distressing, or some other needless change. In the end we found what we needed at IKEA.

This seems to be a theme, and I wonder if there’s something deeper to it. My idea is that people have an archetype in their mind when they go shopping — we were looking for the Platonic table but everybody was selling something that differed from this ideal. It seemed that every time there was something that conflicted with our ideal table it was because the designer had ignored the obvious route (flat table, legs in the corner, etc) and done something “clever”. And wrong.

The same happens when clothes shopping, for me at least. A casual shirt can be perfectly plain and yet have three arbitrarily-placed rivets down the left sleeve. There is no explanation for this, just the strange whim of the designer. Neither is there any way in which this riveted shirt can be considered “better” than a plain shirt. I can only suggest that designers don’t feel they are doing a job unless they can make a mess of something that was fine to start with.

Several years ago I read an article on design called The Bathing Ape Has No Clothes (and other notes on the distinction between style and design) which brought instant clarity to something I had been gently working my way around and towards but ultimately failing to pin down — the difference between design and style. If you have not read this article I strongly urge you to do so.

It occasionally pops into my head when I’m shopping for clothes and all I can find are things which have been styled past the point they were “finished”. This, I think, is why shops like IKEA or Gap¹ do so well — because if there is design it is purposeful and the styling isn’t tacked on. I don’t know if I’m correct in my observation or what the reasoning would be. Crap designers? Boredom? I’ve heard it said that once an object becomes a commodity then companies do their best to create a brand, a lifestyle that people can be persuaded to buy with the object. Hence Coke and Pepsi, McDonalds and Burger King and so on. I wonder whether these low-level design fripperies are an expression of that — few big companies feel bold enough to sell something unadorned, because you might go elsewhere. And in the end, we did.

So what’s been happening? Since Friday night we have been officially moving out/moving in, depending on what your frame of reference is. The whole time we were at the old flat we talked about “moving out” but now it seems a strange phrase. We moved in! We’re here now.

Nine months ago on our first night in the old flat we went to The Sizzling Scot for food. We ate large meals and got rather drunk on hand-poured measures of fine whisky. We decided a reprise was the best way to finish our time at the old flat. We went out together, ate rather too much, had a pleasant chat with the head waiter about moving house, and got given two whiskies before we left, this time on the house. A fine establishment!

We were up on Saturday morning to pack furiously, though I think the only things furious were the headaches. Between one and two o’clock a bunch of friends came with vehicles and we started ferrying stuff to the new flat. It just so happens that most of Edinburgh is closed or diverted at the moment because we’re working towards a city tram system in 2011. This makes moving across town all the trickier.

By about four o’clock the heat and the hard work had everyone else running for home and comfort. We still have at least one more car full of stuff to ferry over before we’ve properly “moved”. Even a couple of heavy bags and a rucksack taken by bus didn’t make much of a difference.

In the new place we are gradually making little safe havens — most notably the kitchen, which looks quite normal. (Apart from the missing dining table and chairs; that is a small flaw.) We spent a good evening yesterday unpacking lots of boxes and putting things in kitchen cupboards. Nothing is in a permanent position yet. We’ll just place everything and see what happens when we need to use things on a regular basis. Some stuff will be moved to easier access places, and other stuff hidden away.

Our furniture buying has been quite unsuccessful — unless you count ruling things out as a success. I think our biggest problem with the “ruling things out” technique is we don’t stop once we’ve ruled out all but one item. So having ruled everything out we have to start looking for more options.

As for successes — I baked bread this evening and Helen cooked stir fry. This counts as proper food preparation, I think, even if we only have one pan. I had some problems with the bread but it was my first time with this recipe and with this oven. Things will fall into place when I’ve had practice and more experience of both.

We’re both on holiday until Wednesday to give us time to get everything sorted — including transporting our old sofa to Helen’s brother and making a trip to Ikea for all those little essentials. More details to follow, when I can think of them.

We spent last weekend painting the front room in our new flat. It’s the first time I’ve painted a room and it shows. Well, it’s not that bad but it could be more evenly coloured.

It was easy to get all the painting done last weekend because we don’t have any furniture yet. This could become quite awkward as we’ll be moving in this weekend. We have no dining table or chairs (though there is a window seat…) and no sofa either.

We haven’t really made any firm decisions about dining tables. I don’t really like formal or “modern” tables — I want something that has character and feels friendly. A farmhouse feel to it, rather than a silver-service restaurant aesthetic. What can I say about my romantic notions that is not apparent? ;-)

I’m looking forward to the new flat with an almost silly amount of excitement. Despite not even having any furniture to eat at, I’m excited about baking. I bought the book Lawrence recommended a few months ago¹ — Dough: Simple Contemporary Bread by Richard Bertinet. I just watched the included DVD and now have to resist the urge to just not bother going to work and baking bread all day instead. The Amazon reader reviews for the book are similarly effusive/evangelical/ominous: buy this book and you will become dangerously addicted to bread-making.

The other cooking we’re doing, the Nigella Express Challenge, is a bit neglected at the moment. We are the furthest behind schedule we have been since we started. By my reckoning that’s about 13 recipes behind schedule, assuming a regular timetable. Moving house will may impact us in either way:

• An excuse to eat a lot of easy food or takeaway pizza. Having La Favorita across the road is a dangerous temptation.
• Lots of food-laden gatherings. Dozens of flat-warming parties!

The more enthusiasm we get for option two the more likely it will happen that way!

But back to the move: we haven’t done any packing either. Our brave friends have volunteered to bring cars on Saturday and haul our various bits and bobs from one end of town to the other, through massive roadworks and diversions. If there are any lone bodies out there who are willing to lend a hand on Saturday or Sunday then get in touch. Getting all this stuff up to the third floor might be more trouble than we’ve anticipated.

I’m standing (yes, standing) in the new flat at the moment. We have no furniture (hence the standing) and no internet (hence the leaching off anonymous wifi connections). I also get a better signal with the Eee on the mantle piece so that’s why I’m not sitting on the floor.

Today we intend to paint the front room. We have paint — Ruby Fountain 2 — and we have brushes and enthusiasm. And primer and polyfilla and rollers and dust sheets and so on. But now that we also have internet things have ground to a halt. I’m blogging, not scrubbing. Oh well.

We finally got our mortgage from the building society confirmed today. At last! Luckily it’s open on Saturday, so we’re going out right now to

• Get breakfast at the farmer’s market.
• Pick up exciting debt from the building society.

Meanwhile my parents will have arrived in Xi’an by now to visit my brother. So I’ve got to keep Skype open in case they want to try some international calls!

If you say pudding often enough it becomes a verb. We were pudding yesterday evening and will be doing so again today. Serial pudders? That’s us.

Of course if you say it too much it becomes a horrible non word.

Yesterday I got home from work and set to making some stock. I was unsure if there was a good way or bad way to do this, so I pulled out The River Cottage Meat Book from the shelf.

Fifteen minutes later I had almost completely lost track of what I had intended to do, as I was so engrossed in this great book. But I eventually got the stuff together and (after straining it all today) I confess it smells amazing. I’m now quite upset that we’re planning to spend this weekend away and I won’t get to use it immediately.

We’ve been concentrating on Nigella Express so much that I completely forgot that there were other recipes. The Meat book is so captivating, though, that I really must start to pay it closer attention. But Nigella’s making us eat a lot of meat anyway, so there’s not really room in our diet for more. Occasionally — in a period of meat overdose — we throw together a massive vat of lentil curry as some kind of penance, or maybe as a concession to economical cooking.

I must ramping the excitement up to fever pitch by now. You probably can’t take any more of this, right?

At the end of last week we received a payment demand from the surveyors, which we paid so that they would give their valuation to the building society. The building society phoned Helen today to say that they haven’t received it yet and could we hurry up and pay. Naturally we weren’t best impressed, as we’re now nearly halfway through another week and we’re still where we were last Thursday.

Phoned up the surveyors who admitted that they’d been talking crap and yes we had paid and yes they would get this information to the building society. Thanks guys, don’t feel we’re rushing you along here.

One thing is that the building society seem convinced we are getting the keys on 23 May. We have heard this date rumoured elsewhere, but no-one has explicitly said that this is it. How come everyone else seems so sure but us?