The Guardian: We Love to Eat

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/feb/22/torvill-dean-restless-family-angel-delight

We love to eat: Angel Delight fruit faces

Ingredients 
1 sachet of Angel Delight (preferably butterscotch)
Half a pint of full milk
1 banana
Whichever other fruit you may have lying around

Butterscotch Angel Delight fruit face.

Mix the Angel Delight and milk. Leave it to set in the fridge for a few minutes. Cut the banana into slices and use one slice to make the mouth. Use whichever fruit you have to make the eyes and nose. A glace cherry is best for the nose and green grapes for the eyes – see my photograph for reference, made with butterscotch flavour.

Growing up in Walsall in the mid 80s, our Saturday tea (the meal you eat at approximately 5pm – it isn't called dinner or supper in the West Midlands) was always chips, fish fingers, beans and two slices (never more, never fewer) of bread and butter.

When Mom (that's the West Midlands spelling – it isn't Mum) brought the dessert dishes out of the kitchen, my dad, sister and I all knew we were going to get Angel Delight. But which flavour? Was it to be banana, strawberry or, my favourite, butterscotch?

And what would the face be made of? We could easily guess, as there were never many options.

We always had a large tub of glace cherries in the cupboard – possibly left over from Mom's Christmas trifle. They were used for the nose.

There was only one option for the mouth. A banana, cut lengthways, and then halved – depending on how much room there was across the dish. No other fruit would do the job.

The eyes were where my mom would let her imagination go wild. For the weeks leading up to Christmas it was two segments of a satsuma. Christmas week itself, it would be walnuts. The authentic choice was white grapes. Mostly though, it would be two more slices of banana – cut sideways.

Recently, I moved to Bangkok. The first parcel I received from Mom and Dad contained three sachets of butterscotch Angel Delight. I made it straight away, minus the fruit face. It just wouldn't taste the same without Mom's touch.

Robert Davies

Daily Telegraph Expats

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/expat/expatlife/10542634/My-Thai-family-wont-let-me-lift-a-finger-and-its-driving-me-nuts.html

A high-pitched squeal stabs at my eardrum, followed by the sound of urgent footsteps pacing down the stairs. I look up and see my girlfriend’s mother standing over me with my girlfriend joining her, out of breath, by her side.

"Put it down," my girlfriend shouts. I step back and comply. The look on both her and her mother’s face means they don’t want to be messed with.

I stutter an apology and move out of the room. The women stand together, arms folded. "Never come in here again" is the message.

All I had in my hand was a laundry basket. I only wanted to wash my own clothes. But this is Thailand, and they do things differently here.

I met my Thai girlfriend two years ago in London, when she was studying for a master’s degree at one of our universities. After a year of dating we moved in together. Towards the end of the validity of her visa we discussed moving to Bangkok.

"You can stay with my family," suggested my girlfriend. "You will have your own bedroom and I will sleep with my mom."

That’s a little strange, I thought, but as Thailand is a conservative nation it wasn’t unexpected. So, I quit my job, said goodbye to my friends and family and in October I packed my bags and came with her.

What did I have to lose?

Nothing much. Apart from a dwindling sense of independence.

My girlfriend’s mother, like so many Thais, cannot do enough to help. Not only can I not wash my own clothes - I cannot make my own food. I cannot do any cleaning. I cannot do much at all. I try my best, I really do want to help, but all I have managed to do is occasionally take my dishes to the sink. Even this involves incredible use of stealth, as I have to do it when she has her back turned. I can’t do anything else, or my girlfriend and her mother would wrestle me to the ground.

It is even difficult to get my own breakfast, as every day I am offered moo ping (grilled pork kebabs) and sticky rice, which every day I smile and refuse stating that I am happy with cereal and coffee. This ritual, just like brushing my teeth, has become ingrained in my morning routine.

In the living room there is a plush leather chair and three rock-hard mattresses where the rest of the family sleep. When I walk in, my girlfriend’s mother gets up out of the good chair and offers it to me. This woman is in her early sixties, I am 36. I refuse the offer. A stand-off persist, both of us smiling, nodding and pointing to the seat. Both of us not fully understanding what the other means. It is like a drawn-out game of musical chairs. Eventually my girlfriend intervenes and mother gets her way. I am told to sit down on the leather chair.

When I sit in the living room on my own reading quietly, it seldom stays that way. In comes my girlfriend’s mother, on goes the TV and the volume up so high that I cannot only watch Top Gear – a programme that I hate but she seems to think I like – I can listen to it from within a mile radius of the house.

Other than this strange living situation, there are a few other things that I have found bizarre.

An early trip to the cinema was a taste of things to come. In the car, on the way to see a romantic movie with my girlfriend, I waved goodbye to her mother and she waved back. Seconds later I had a shock to see her open the back door and join us in the car – directing operations from the back seat. When we got to the cinema, out she came to join us for the movie – an unlikely triple date.

One night, I spent a couple of hours with my girlfriend sorting the details of a scenic train trip from Bangkok that takes you through different neighbourhoods. Just before I went to bed I got told that her mother was coming too. I wasn’t surprised, but as it didn’t affect matters I didn’t really care. The next day, however, I was told we were going by car because my girlfriend’s mother thought it would save time reaching our destination. My protests that this would defeat the purpose of the trip went unheard.

On Chulalongkorn Day, one of the 16 public holidays that Thailand has, we joined several thousand Thais in visiting the Royal Palace to show our respects to the current King’s grandfather. The enormous crowd caused our taxi to be stuck in traffic for over an hour, moving less than 100 metres.

"Can we get out and walk?" I asked. "No. My mom says its too far," my girlfriend replied. Yet 15 minutes later, having gone no further, we were outside the taxi, walking. Five minutes after that we were at the Palace. I couldn’t see the logic of waiting so long, but there is one: Thai people, particularly my girlfriend’s mom, don’t like walking.

Despite the constant mollycoddling and strange incidents, I have grown very fond of my girlfriend’s mother and decided that the old maxim "if you can’t beat them, join them" is worth adopting. I am now in the process of teaching her the fine art of making a cup of tea while I am watching the football – some pandering I am happy to put up with.

Travel Writing for We Said Go Travel and inTravel Magazine

Crossing the Vietnam/Laos Border

http://www.wesaidgotravel.com/crossing-the-laos-vietnam-border-with-a-crocodile

http://www.intravelmag.com/intravel/inept/a-narrow-escape-crossing-the-vietnam-laos-border

A Cricketing Passage to India

http://www.wesaidgotravel.com/cricketing-passage-india

Feature on Ian Gaunt for Journalism Diploma

Where are they now?

The Saddlers glorious season of 2000-01 saw them promoted to the Championship after play-off triumph against Reading at the Millennium Stadium, Cardiff.  During the course of that season, heroes were made.

The names of Walker, Aranalde, Tilson, Keates, Goodman, Byfield, Matias, and Leitao will all bring back wonderful memories for fans of the club.

There were other people involved in that campaign though. The likes of Bryan Small, Barry Horne, Dion Scott, Karl Hawley, Alfie Carter and Ian Gaunt may not have played many games that season but they all contributed to our success.

Although Ian Gaunt didn’t play any league games, he will be a familiar name to any of the 3,346 fans that attended an LDV Vans Trophy game against Wigan on 30 January 2001. This is because the then 19 year-old centre-half, making his debut, scored a last-minute headed winner to take us through to the next round, with a 2-1 victory.

Ian wasn’t even meant to make his debut that night, but heavy traffic on the M6 meant many players were delayed. Ian takes up the rest of the story: “Mick Halsall was looking after the team that night and he had difficulty working out which players were in the dressing room, and who needed to be promoted from the bench,” he recalls. “The whole experience was great. I played really well that day and obviously scoring the winner in the last minute was brilliant.” 

When Ian, who is from Bromsgrove, was 16 he joined Walsall on an YTS contract and signed professional terms when he turned 18. During the successful 2000-01 season, he played regularly for the reserves at left-back. The reason why his chances with the first-team were limited was because we had arguably our greatest ever squad of players and three experienced centre-halves at the club: Ian Roper, Andy Tilson and Tony Barras.

“Being a centre-half I learned a lot from the likes of Andy Tilson, who was really good to me,” reminisced Ian. “The best players during my time were probably Andy Rammell and Jimmy Walker.”

And what of living legend Sir Ray Graydon? How did he get on with the disciplinarian manager who got us promoted twice to League One? “He made sure you knew who was boss, which is not a bad thing. I cleaned his boots so the pressure was always on me! Unfortunately for me he was great at bringing in centre-halves who did brilliantly in the last few years of their careers.”

After Ian’s glorious debut, he went from hero to zero, getting sent off in the next round of the LDV Vans Trophy against Stoke for a professional foul, as we capitulated 4-0. “The Stoke game was a different level to the previous week against Wigan. Aside from the sending off I didn’t play well so was really disappointed with that more than anything.”

That was the beginning of the end for Ian’s career at Walsall. Whilst the players and fans celebrated the team’s success together at Cardiff, Ian watched the game from the corporate box. “I saw a few of the players afterwards. It was obviously a great result for the club but, ironically, probably had some bearing on me getting released.”

How did he feel when he was told his contract wasn’t going to be renewed?

“I was gutted. I thought I’d done more than enough, but the coaching staff has to make difficult decisions based on many factors, which I completely understand.”

After a very short spell at local non-league side, Moor Green, Ian left the professional game for good and took a sports science degree at Loughborough University.

Ian, who is now 31, tells us more about what happened next: “After graduating I worked at Loughborough University for three years before in 2008 getting a job at the University of St Andrews in Scotland. I am now fortunate enough to be the assistant director of sport at the university and live and work in a beautiful part of the UK.”

Last year, Ian got married and the best man was fellow ex-Walsall trainee, David Hunt, who is currently a physio at Birmingham City. Ian and his wife, Heather, are expecting their first child together in August this year.

We wish Ian and his family the best of luck for the future.

Once a Saddler, always a Saddler!

Feature on Jimmy Jump for Journalism Diploma

Quiz night down the local boozer is when all sorts of weirdoes try to ‘impress’ you with their knowledge of ridiculous facts. But next time you get accosted by a man with a grey beard, supping real ale, who wants to tell you the score of every FA Cup final since 1945, look him straight in the eye and ask him this: Who has appeared at the World Cup final, the Spanish Grand Prix, the French Open and the Eurovision song contest?

Chances are they will splutter out their ‘lovely little drop’ onto their beard, scratch their bonce, and stand their speechless. Poke them in the shoulder and tell them the answer.

Jaume Marquet Cot. Better known as Jimmy Jump. Or, the mad Spanish geezer with that red hat who runs onto the pitch at sport events but forgets to streak.

If you still haven’t heard of him, type his name and the words: ‘eurovision’, ‘song’, ‘contest’ into YouTube. This is his crowning moment, the day he made this diabolical programme - that your missus makes you watch every year - viewable for once, as he joined in, unrequested, and danced along with the Spanish performance.

Jimmy is 37, from Catalonia, Spain and is a mad-keen Barcelona fan, currently living in Hamburg, Germany. His first high profile jump came in the Euro 2004 final between Greece and Portugal when he invaded the pitch, chucked a Barca flag at Figo (who played for rivals, Real Madrid) and ran straight to the back of the net.

Loaded caught up with him (through a mutual friend, acting as a translator) and asked him a few questions over Skype, as he lay in his bedroom like a naughty teenager. After a crazy few minutes of wild gesticulations, belly laughs and very fast-talking - none of which loaded contributed or understood - we were ready to go.

We began by asking Jimmy about his exploits at Eurovision and if he felt any remorse for desecrating a family show and ruining the chances of victory for his countrymen. “I don’t feel sorry for the contestant,” he says, whilst changing into an official Jimmy Jump t-shirt. “I helped to make them famous.” We couldn’t agree more. Can you remember any other entries that year?

After a spot of impromptu, improvised dance when Jimmy declares, for no apparent reason: “I do like dancing but I’m not professional, I like to dance freestyle,” he tells loaded that he never makes any money from his jumps apart from after Eurovision when he was able to get some cash for recording an advertisement that financed his trip to the World Cup in 2010.

This was another brilliant moment in the career of Jimmy Jump as despite the presence of more security men than racists at an EDL march, Jimmy managed to evade everyone and chuck his red hat on the gleaming trophy.

How does he feel after this jump and others? “It is a sexual climax,” he tells us. “After trying to jump without success, when you are able to do it, it is like a football player after a long time without scoring. When he finally succeeds, he screams out loud....GOOOOOOOALLL.” Madder than a mad dog in the sun, this guy.

But since those glory days, there haven’t been many chances for Jimmy to shoot his load. The reason is financial. He is stone cold broke. He has fines of over €100,000 to pay and despite asking for €1 from each of his 200,000 fans on Facebook, remains skint. His plans to jump at the recent Champions League final were scuppered by the airfare being too expensive (has this man not heard of Ryanair?).

“At this present moment I feel dead,” he dismays. “I’m not sure I will be able to jump again and that upsets me very much.”

Surely a little thing like money can’t prevent Jimmy from ever jumping again. Loaded wants all his fans to donate money to him NOW, in order for the following to happen:

Jimmy in the House of Commons plonking a red hat on that plonker Cameron.

Jumping on Songs of Praise before getting rugby tackled by that Welsh do-gooder Aled Jones.

Popping up at the exact moment Kate Middleton gives birth, making her think her new child is a fully-grown Spaniard.

Jimmy Jump, if you do this, we will salute you! You crazy, crazy Spanish bastard!