A whole fish

photo by Darren Hickson at Shoot The Moon

I am a Pisces, what sign are you? Groan, I hear you, I do. Astrology is not for the cynical of this world. It is considered a kind of faith but to those that can suspend disbelief for a short time, it can be observed just like any other science.

I don't read my daily forecast, but I do consult an astrological oracle book, The Astrological Oracle by Lyn Birkbeck, that is a tome of wisdom and uplifts, advises, supports my growing world view, takes me deeper always pushing me to see the events of my life, the questions in my mind, from a bigger perspective: in the context of psychology, history, the ever changing.

Greek Gods, hot Christmases and best friends forever

photo by Elaine Dunstan

Christmas in Australia is hot. Santa dads sweat beneath the scratchy nylon suits but often need no fake stuffing help with the jolly beer belly.

My best friend Belinda's father is Greek. I remember his straight nose, running almost parallel to his face. It gave his profile the kind of mythical grace seen in marble statues of the Gods. He held himself like a mythical God too, casting his cynical appraisal of our human foibles: my died red hair that "looks like you've dipped your head in beetroot", driving me and Belinda to a nightclub, his eyebrow arched, that stern nose flaring it's nostrils as we infused his car with the smell of our cigarette and champagne breath.

Deli goods

I don't know what I would do without the Barbakan Deli in Chorlton, Manchester. It's not trendy, but all the hip people go. It makes and sells great food but is not on an ego trip. Sometimes I do wish it had the polished concrete floors and industrial reclaimed benches, the fashionable magazines for browsing on the communal table kind of vibe that makes you think about what you're wearing before you go, makes you watch and be seen, fret that your turn-ups are the wrong height on your wrong-coloured jeans.

Bananas are too precious to waste

A bowl of brown mottled skin and heavily fragrant bananas sat next to the digital radio all last week. It's quite strange to have spent bananas in this house. We eat a bunch every two days. My top-up shopping list is always: milk, bananas, biscuits.

But here they were: four bananas getting funky and I couldn't bring myself to throw them away, especially after Australia. Our last visit home came at the tail end of a series of natural disasters: flooding, cyclones, fires, and that, paired with an obnoxious economy sticking its finger up at the rest of the world, made the price of bananas comparable to caviar. ONE kilo of bananas was $13 - which would equate to about $39 per week just for bananas in our house. I might spend that on wine, but bananas?

Cardamom on my tongue

Cardamom is one of my favourite flavours and it pops up in unexpected places. Cardamom ice cream like they make in India is a revelation. I was recently swooning with delight on the windswept street of Curry Mile in Rusholme, as I sucked a long thin cardamom and pistachio ice cream, a kulfi, bought from an old robed man with a stall that I've never seen again.