Living in Westminster, I get to see a lot of homeless people. It is the policy of our Borough to discourage giving cash. They might be scamming. They might use it to buy smack. I don’t know. If people feel that they have spare cash to give, then maybe they should just do what their hearts tell them to do.

I don’t give cash. I can’t spare it. Not one pence. But, I can give other stuff. Socks, for example. Sometimes I leave socks with the sleeping man down the block. Or a t-shirt that is just hanging around the flat not doing anyone any good. Sometimes I will buy some food or orange juice. One time I got yelled at by one of our local homeless for offering her orange juice. Apparently, she only wanted cash. I wanted to give her the two fingers as she was yelling at me, but I tried to remind myself that something, not the orange juice, sent her off the rails maybe years ago.

San Francisco is doing a thing called “Replate.” Leave your leftover food in a doggie bag on top of a bin. I kinda like it. There is the sanitary question, but I guess it’s better than actually eating out of the bin.

Speaking of which, I was having a chat with one of the security blokes behind Marks and Sparks on Long Acre. I asked him if a lot of food gets thrown away. “A shameless amount,” he said. I’ve heard of urban foragers who bin dive for food. It’s perfectly good food. My question is why grocers don’t do what Pret do. They give away their food for free at the end of the day.

You can’t bin dive at Long Acre, though. I’ve already checked. They’ve got security measures in place to protect all of that free food on its way to the land fill. How can we expect to save the planet and all those children starving in Africa if we are throwing away perfectly good food? Why can’t I have the free, not-even-barely-out-of-date food and then send the money that I would otherwise spend on food to Oxfam or something.

Sorry, this is such a rambling post. So stressed with the move that I can’t think clearly to edit.

OK, I really should have blogged about this earlier, and I have all sorts of excuses, but I’ll skip it. The London Festival of Architecture is going on through the 20th of July. Cool stuff is happening all over the city, but this really cool thing sets my pants on fire. Growing food locally in bags? Check out the giant grow bags in Hoxton Square, Store Street and Cheapside. Totally radical, man.

I thought I was going to be a Radiohead widow on Tango Tuesday. Kirmann had managed to get a ticket for PJ, but there was no joy for me. At the last possible minute, Mitlepunkt came through with a dodgey eBay purchase.

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PJ and I had a nice lunch in Trafalgar Square…Falafel from Just Falafel. Maybe it’s just me, but I think the quality has gone down a bit, which is a real shame. I liked the food and I like the folks that work there, but I have to be honest.

OR, what might have put me off the food was staring at the bloke with no pants on. Read more

Today I got a council tax reminder notice saying that if I didn’t pay my late council tax within the next seven days I would be taken to court and incur an additional £95 court cost. It’s dire straights these days: I had to choose between paying the council tax or buying food this week. I chose food.

And speaking of food, has anyone else noticed it’s gone up? I dropped £12 today at Tescos for:

Toilet Paper
Coffee
Milk
Honey
2 Fishes (where you have to skin, bone and chop off the head yourself ’cause it’s cheaper)
Honey (which PJ has in tea instead of sugar, which is bad for him)
2 apples
2 bagles

Anyway, called the Council to see if they could give me a reprieve. It’s an 0845 number, by the way, which I don’t understand ’cause it’s the government, right? At first the very nice lady said that she couldn’t help me because I’m not on income assistance. I told her that I couldn’t get on income assistance because I’m a foreigner and it’s illegal because of the visa and all. Eventually, she did help me. Gave me a 7 day extension before they take me to court.

The thing is that they didn’t have to help me at all because I’m not a voting citizen…I’m a foreigner, or did I say that already? I’m reminded that “no taxation without representation” was one of the reasons why American broke from this country to begin with. (All of you complaining about Boris…at least you got to vote.)

Then there’s the bank charges, but I don’t want to get into that yet. It’s too depressing.

You’re probably saying, “if you don’t like it then just go the hell home.” Well, honestly, at this point, I probably would. At least I can go on welfare and get food stamps back in the States. But because fuel prices are so high, I can’t afford the airfare.

I recently attended a mate’s birthday party at the Duke of Cambridge in Islington, a short walk from Angel tube station. I really enjoy organic beer so it was a most welcomed visit after an intense week. When ever someone says ‘organic’ they often think of expense, fortunately I think this is becoming a past time. This pub has a nice selection of Pitfield ales, all around 3 quid. I especially recommend their IPA, a nice hoppy brew that goes down easy, but has just enough bitterness to awaken your palate. After trying them all, I became quite jovial throughout the evening, so did my mate who took in glass after glass of organic chardonnay. They also serve organic spirits as well.
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Ok, so there’s no cure for the London cold. I’ve been disillusioned by cold suppressants for some time now, so I decided to try an old folk remedy — homemade chicken noodle soup. I know, I know, how could something as simple as soup help relieve devastating symptoms of London cold viruses. After all, there probably exists one variant of the London cold virus for every person living in London. A depressing thought I know, but there’s light at the end of the soup bowl, really. While chicken soup doesn’t have any anti-viral properties that I’m aware of, it does assist in relieving symptoms until the cold has been vanquished by your immune system. It accomplishes what most of those cold suppressants you see advertised on the Tube can’t do. Modify this recipe as you see fit, but I must insist on the chicken stock (and the garlic!), it’s not so hard to make really, you just boil chicken. For vegetarians or vegans, go with a vegetable stock by adding more veggies of your choice. Give it a go. I used mostly organic vegetables for this one, primarily for flavour and nutrition content. Even the worst of cooks can make a decent soup with a little practice. Enjoy it!
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You know it’s going to be grim as soon as you wake up. As you slowly inch over into consciousness, there’s that unnerving noise somewhere in the back of your mind. Kettle boiling flatmate’s tea? Hot water pipes rattling? Leaves rustling in the wind?

No. The early morning (and ultimately) depressing mental effort is just about enough to wake you up sufficiently to realise that the taptaptap-tap-taptap is the rain. It’s turning the soil in the garden to mud. The normally inoffensive concrete outside gets transformed into a putrid grey mess - partly because it’s reflecting the equally disgusting sky. The tarmac on the roads is fairly ugly at the best of times, but a coating of water on the surface seems to turn them into a beastly, black, organic slab of tar.
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Walked up to Tower Bridge today ’cause the flatmate gave us a freebie to GBK. He got some coupons at one of his hookey-roo Christmas shindigs that entitled us to £50 worth of food and drink. I tell you this, two people the size of PJ and me cannot eat near £50 even when ordering OJ, Cokes and shakes. It was brilliant because it was free. Out of the window, we had a view of “The Oldest Church in the City.” Had a fascinating discussion about whether “the city” meant “the city of London” or “The City” (as in the place where all those blokes in suites work hard to move money around the world…they must really build up an appetite).

After, walked our way towards Central and stopped off at the Tate Modern. Been aching to see the Crack. It was kinda cool, but PJ ’s point was “It’s just a crack in the floor.” What ensued was an inane conversation about Modern Art in the middle of which I wrestled PJ to the ground screaming “Mark Rothko is a genius, you silly ass.”

Here’s a photo of me with my hand in the crack:

And, here’s a mind-blowing video of the Crack:

OK, Here’s a party that will be hard to pass up if you are a tree-hugger, a dream-catcher, an art-lover or just into cheap eats and drink. Art from the Heart Party takes place on December 7 (7pm till midnight) at the Irish Cultural Centre, Hammersmith, London. Tickets are £15 and get you free beer, free food, and free entertainment from, says mate Ross Heaven, “musicians, cabaret performers, poets, and raconteurs.” I am assured that the Irish Ambassador and celebrities galore will be present. And, you can cut-price art from international artists who have donated work to raise funds and awareness for the Village environmental project. Tickets are available from tania@taniaahsan.com.

Now, if you’re wondering about my mate Ross, he is the founder of the Four Gates Foundation: “active in the teaching, promotion, and application of spiritual wisdom and freedom psychology.” Ross is a super cool dude and not full of shit like some other new agey types I’ve met. And how, you ask, did I meet him? He’s a certified Voodoo priest, and when I was shooting the making of doco for London Voodoo, I interviewed Ross for the special features. He’s the real deal, so, if you are into all that jazz, check him out.