Disgracelands: (Crouch) End Of An Era

It was love at first sight. I walked through that front door five years ago and instantly fell for the shabby wood chip walls. Over the years, I've loved just sitting quietly, maybe doing a bit of writing, listening to the music I've chosen to litter my life, with the living room bathed in the most beautiful, rose-gold early evening light.

She so pretty.

By tomorrow, it's all over. I'm *braces self, breathes deeply, palms moisten* moving East.

I know, I know. It won't be easy. My battle with the Bugaboo Brigade is finished. This brave wee soldier is headed for a whole new war. Life on the Eastern Front will likely throw me into fresh conflicts. I can see me conscientiously objecting to some terrible war crimes (females dressed like the unfortunate lovechild of John Motson/Malcolm Allison/Bananarama - oh, when did this happen and, more importantly, why?). Perhaps it'll all be over by Christmas (it never is - bit like this dreadful überallegory I've gotten myself mixed up in).

Anyoldways, things change and needs must. Some lucky bleeder had sufficient cash and they'll get to tread her lovely boards from now on. I can only hope and pray they'll look after Disgracelands and cherish her pretty, quirky old parts. If I ever discover that the fireplaces and stained glass have been ripped out to make way for some mass-produced modern bullshit, I might retaliate with a bit of ripping of my own (e.g. new arsehole for the culprit).

For those of you who've had the pleasure, I know you'll miss her too (NYC arrive on Saturday - can sense the tears forming in their ducts already). To all my well-wishers - adieu. See you on the other side.

*bawls daft Yorkshire head off*

Ladies and gentlemen - DK has left the building.

Dunn's: Fabulous Baker Boys (And Girls)

It is a truth universally acknowledged - I love cake. Big fan of toast. Love a bit of crumpet. All about the baked goods, me. Living in Crouch End affords ample opportunity for buying this stuff. Over the years, I've whittled down the places that are worthy of my hard-earned for all things cakey and floury, and right at the top of the list is a local institution and treasure - Dunn's bakery.

When I heard an outlet of Gail's (of Hampstead fame) was opening in Crouch End, I was pretty anxious for Dunn's. According to my friend Massimo at The Haberdashery, the opening of Gail's actually caused huge excitement among his clientele. Yup, the Bugaboo Brigade were all hysterical over Gail and her forthcoming goody attractions.

Needless worry. Having done a taste test experiment with the Brummie (test consisted of bread and butter - what else?), it can be confirmed that the spelt and honey loaf from Dunns, weighing in at £1.70, knocks the wheat-free socks off a loaf half the size / almost twice the price (£3.20 for a tiny loaf I could eat at one sitting? Are you off your rocker, Gail?) from Gail's. This loaf from Dunn's is bread nirvana, wheatless ambrosia, bread fit for a Queen. Gail's had just opened when the taste test took place, and The Brummie and I also carried out a cuppa test. The coffee was good, but the staff seemed a bit clueless and the café layout was cramped. I wasn't surprised, only a few weeks later, to see they had closed down while shopfitters rectified what was obviously a bad bit of planning. In the interest of fairness, I know Gail chucks out a lovely pastry - when the NYC massive were over, they brought some back to Disgracelands, and I happily polished one off (ancient proverb: always put a gift cake in the mouth).

I had a lovely Dunn's experience today. Running my errands, I'd popped to buy a puncture repair kit to fix my wellingtons for this coming weekend. I refuse to buy new wellies, I'm a resourceful girl and will be thrilled if my make-do-and-mend capabilites are inventive enough to give my old rubber boots another lease of life. Re-cycling indeed...sorry, I digress. So, I've spent some cash in the bike shop, popped to M&S to buy flowers, and on the way back, I pop into Dunn's for some of that lovely bread. Imagine my dismay when I realise I only have 85p left in my pocket. I'm in a bit of a rush, so I asked, slightly red of face, if I'd be able to pay by card. "Oh, of course, no problem" replied the sweet young thing behind the counter. I laughed, saying I'd thought it a bit ridiculous, and also lazy of me, not to just run to the cashpoint. She assured me she didn't mind. "I had one man ask if he could pay for a bread roll with his card", she confided in a conspiratorial tone, "for 26p. So, really - don't worry", she added.

She took my loaf off to cut (medium sliced, if you're wondering), then came back to pick up another loaf, and cut that too. She put them both on the counter. "I didn't cut that first one very well, you can have them both for the same price". I was overcome with joy at this point, and the rather handsome male staff member standing next to her wanted to know what she'd done to make me so pleased. Not wanting to drop her in any sort of bakery shit, I just said "she's done a very nice thing and she'll probably go to heaven", to which he replied "I doubt it, she's my sister." The customer next to me laughed at this, and it was yet another reason why Dunn's gets my spends - the staff are absolutely lovely. A big thank you to Imogen and Lewis for making my day - I came straight back home and had two slices toasted, heavily spread with slightly salted butter. Perfect.

http://www.dunns-bakery.co.uk/

Tat For Tits At The Haberdashery

Aren't breasts brilliant? Much nicer to look at than anything the chaps have got going on (actually, I'm generally quite happy when looking at mens bits, if the truth be told). Tons of hilarious names for boobs too: top bollocks, fun bags, knockers and my own personal favourite - dirty pillows. And to think that something so wonderful can be harboring what is now the most common form of cancer in the UK.

My life has been touched by breast cancer twice. Heartbreakingly, I watched as my dear sister Mary died from the disease, and then my very brave and ballsy sister Helen was diagnosed with grade 3 and fought her own battle - 7 years down the line, and she's still winning. Bravo, our kid - you're a bloody star.

A few years back, I decided to try to raise money for Breakthrough Breast Cancer, as they launched their 40 mile overnight fundraising walk round the sights and streets of London. Roping in my nearest and dearest ladyfriends, we were given a target of £6000. Apart from begging literally everyone we knew for their hard-earned, we also ran a charity stall in the centre of Crouch End (at this point I coined the phrase "Tat For Tits", but we weren't sure if Crouch End was ready for my wit). We had items donated from local people, Harvey Nichols gave us pink champagne to raffle, so we set up by Barclays bank one fine Saturday and peddled our wares. Really good fun and we raised £400 that day. The four of us ended up raising over £7000 by the time the walk came around - we even managed the walk without a blister or bit of chafing (I'll never forget the sight of the very large lady walker dressed in a bright pink tutu, whose thighs had rubbed together so badly at the top that she ended up walking like Yosemite Sam...)

So I was more than happy to oblige when the lovely Massimo and Greg of The Haberdashery in Crouch End called me to ask if I'd run the charity stall at their next bar boot sale in aid of Breast Cancer Awareness month. It was a top night - the boys had the usual array of sellers bringing along their vintage bits and bobs/craft/housey stuff. My stall was filled with donations from local businesses and customers, and the boys had donated a cakestand filled with pink cupcakes to sell. My own donation was candy pink polka dot bunting (of course):

None More Black Meets None More Pink

The fellas had lots of lovely snacks to sell, and they were knocking up some unfeasibly good cocktails - I managed to neck the most delicious strawberry caipiriha. And the entertainment was top stuff too - The Marjorie Belles sang some sweet swing numbers perfectly fitting the evening - space was so limited, they performed perched on top of bistro chairs:

"From The Top, Ladies"

Toot Toot Tootsies

Find out more about them here: http://www.themarjoriebelles.com/

It was a huge success - Massimo tells me the stall raised over £150 on the night, and that a couple of thousand pounds were raised throughout Crouch End (The Haberdashery also held a masked tea party as part of the week-long events). All for a truly good cause, I had a ball and I think the chaps did too:

The Cream Of Café Society