But that wasn’t always the case – believe it or not I actually used to love playing sport. Throughout my teenage years life was full of distractions. School, college, work, family, girls. Actually, maybe not girls. I was actually a shy, skinny introvert youth who would wander home after football and sit in front of a Playstation most nights. So when my mum called me for dinner, I saw it as a distraction. I would plough through it as fast as I could, often without even tasting it.

Of course I would complain, for example, if the vegetables were burnt or the pasta was too salty (my mother does have a tendency to put too much salt in the water), or if we were having this or that meal AGAIN. And of course I’d be pleased when, for example, she would knock up a really good curry or a cracking lasagne. But no matter how bad or how good, my mind was on getting back to beating that boss on Final Fantasy that I’d been stuck on for days, or seeing if I could beat my high score on Tony Hawk’s.

Then I discovered beer. With beer came a new-found confidence. Through confidence I gained new friends, friends who introduced me to new things, new cultures, new cuisines. And lo and behold, I’d rediscovered my love of food, which has since grown considerably along with my waistline. So I thought I’d put together this list of the ten people who have inspired me the most – inspired me to try new things, push myself in the kitchen and to learn as much as I can about food.

10 – Remy The Rat

Yes, Remy the Rat. Okay – at first glance, this one may seem like a bit of a joke. Conveniently positioned at #10 on this list, you must be reading this thinking “Come on Raven, could you only think of nine so you had to resort to including a talking rat in your list of 10 culinary heroes??” Well, I don’t care – Ratatouille is actually a really enjoyable film and did more than even Jamie Oliver could to get kids interested in food again – that is, food that doesn’t arrive in a box. Apparently there are even recipes on the DVD extras which kids can cook with their parents. Through the vessel of Remy the lovable talking rat who aspires to be a chef, audiences worldwide were captivated, kids and grown-ups alike. But the main reason I’m including Remy as a serious candidate on this list is his motto: Anybody can cook.

9 – Madhur Jaffrey

Indeed, anybody can cook, as Madhur Jaffrey proved. Having spent hardly any time in the kitchen as a child which was unusual for Indian girls, it wasn’t until Jaffrey moved to London to study drama that she learned to cook through letters sent to her by her mother. Between films she honed her culinary skill and became known as “the actress who could cook”, gradually turning her focus more and more toward her culinary career where over the years she presented various cooking shows on TV and published close to 30 cookbooks. Madhur was, and still is, a true pioneer – both for aspiring Asian chefs and female TV chefs, as well as for the food of the Indian subcontinent in general.

8 – Marco Pierre White

I know somebody who has a huge crush on Marco. Personally I don’t see the attraction, but each to their own.

At one time the youngest chef to be award three Michelin stars, Marco later handed back these most prestigious of awards and retired from the kitchen to concentrate on running his cluster of successful restaurants such as Belvedere and L’Escargot and spending time with his family. His explosive nature has in the past brought him notoriety – for example when a young chef in his employ once complained about the heat in the kitchen resulting in Marco setting about the youngster’s chef jacket and trousers with a knife. I had to include him on this list as he’s a true rebel – it’s either Marco’s way or the highway.

7 – Heston Blumenthal

Heston Blumenthal has always been a big hero of mine, and……… Wait a minute, that isn’t Heston Blumenthal. That’s my mate Dean Saliba. Sorry, it’s an easy mistake to make. THIS is Heston Blumenthal:

Or is it the other way round?? Fuck it, who cares.

Anyway, Dean Saliba may not be a very well-known chef, but what cannot be denied is the contribution he makes to the food scene on a daily basis. Well, in his household, anyway. His signature dishes include a packet of crisps, toast with butter, toast without butter, and plain burger. In fact, he doesn’t even cook the last one. In fact, he’s not really a chef at all. I don’t know why I even bothered including him on this list…

…actually, I’m supposed to be talking about Heston Blumenthal, aren’t I?? Sorry.

Heston Blumenthal is a visionary. This alone is evident in the critical acclaim achieved over the years by his restaurant, The Fat Duck. (Ironically, that’s almost what I call Dean’s brother). Since being voted the best restaurant in the world in 2005, the Fat Duck has remained in the top 5 each year since then, usually finishing second to El Bulli. Which there is no shame in doing. What I like about Heston is that, while other chefs such as Mr. Adria of the aforementioned El Bulli are looking to the future, Heston is not afraid to look backwards and dust off the history books to create period-style banquets such as medieval and tudor which he featured on his show Heston’s Feasts. A real food scholar.

6 – Keith Floyd

“Floydy” as he was affectionately known, was always one of my heroes and was one of the first TV chefs I ever saw, although he never regarded himself as a chef since he was not classically trained. He was, however, like the Vince McMahon of TV chefs – he started it all. He was one of the first people to take the “cooking sketch” out of the kitchen, filming a lot of his sketches on location. His locations ranged from herring trawlers to tiny islands in the middle of fast-flowing rivers. His eccentric outlook and witty intellect will be sorely missed.

5 – Escoffier

If Keith Floyd was the father of TV chefs, Escoffier was the father of chefs. Born Georges Auguste Escoffier in the southeastern tip of France – right on Italy’s doorstep – Escoffier was always going to have a strong connection to food. At the age of 13 he went to work in his uncle’s restaurant in Nice, the start of a career which took him to Paris, then Cannes where he opened his first restaurant, and eventually to London where he would work at the Savoy Hotel and put that institution on the culinary map, as well as later playing a major part in doing the same with the Ritz. Escoffier’s organisation skills were second to none. He basically changed the way that people looked at food and introduced the system on which the modern-day restaurant kitchen setup is based; i.e. with a head chef, sous chef, chef de partie, etc. His work Le Guide Culinaire is THE reference book for anything you might need to know about classical French cuisine.

4 – Jiro Ono

Jiro dreams of sushi. No seriously, he does. All the time. If you’ve watched last year’s documentary-film from director David Gelb, conveniently entitled “Jiro Dreams Of Sushi“, you’ll know exactly who Jiro Ono is. And trust me, he does dream of sushi. A lot.

At the ripe old age of 85, he is still, by his own admission, looking to perfect the art of sushi making. To be 85 and still learning anything is an achievement in itself. The website www.newyorker.com described his 3-Michelin starred restaurant Sukiyabashi Jiro in Tokyo as “One of the hardest reservations to get in the world”. If you’ve watched the documentary and seen Mr. Ono’s dedication to perfecting the art form that is sushi, it’s easy to see why that’s the case.

3 – Anthony Bourdain

I could write an entire 5,000 word article entirely on Mr. Bourdain and how he’s influenced me in my life. But I won’t, I’ll simply say that I am extremely jealous as this guy has the best job in the world. I won’t even mention his previous occupations as head chef of Brasserie Les Halles and author of such works as, umm… Kitchen Confidential. He basically gets to travel around the world eating different foods from each country he visits, and gets PAID to do it!!!

What I like most about Bourdain is his attitude. He just doesn’t give a flying fuck. Yet he isn’t full of himself either. In his own words, “I’ll try anything, I’ll risk everything, I have nothing to lose”. This may surprise some people but I used to be a fussy eater. (I also used to be relatively thin, I wonder if there’s a connection). But Bourdain’s shows A Cook’s Tour and more prominently No Reservations inspired me to grab life by the balls and to never give up the search for new and exciting flavours, and if it does mean venturing out of my comfort zone, that’s probably a good thing. If I’m ever stuck on what to write on a particular review, I think “What would Tony do”??

2 – Ferran Adrià

Where to even begin with Ferran Adria. Some call him a molecular gastronomist. Some call him the greatest chef in the world. His rivals would call him a madman. Mr. Adria, however, would call himself a “deconstructor”.  I believe that destruction breeds creation, and would agree that he is probably the greatest chef in the world.

So just how good is Ferran Adria?? Well, He became the head chef of El Bulli on the Catalonian coast when he was just 22, and through his unique approach transformed it into one of the best known restaurants on the planet. El Bulli had 3 Michelin stars and won the coveted first place on Restaurant Magazine’s annual Restaurant Top 50 feature in 2006, 2007, 2008 and 2009. Bookings for its entire 2011 season were taken in a single day, the day after the close of its 2010 season. And it was the first restaurant to be given an entire episode by Anthony Bourdain, which, when you consider that most episodes cover entire countries, is an impressive feat. Ferran is, in my opinion, the future of cooking, and I have no doubt that his work will influence us all in years to come.

1 – Patricia Frances Bennett (My Grandmother).

A biased choice, obviously. But when I’d run in from the playground as a child I would remember the smells that would hit me when I opened the door – the smell of bacon frying or dough being kneaded or, if I was lucky, the smell of cakes rising in the oven. Plain, irregularly shaped cupcakes, sometimes accompanied by a simple, albeit uneven icing. Sometimes they would be soft and springy, sometimes they were burnt until just barely edible. But trust me, they were always the best cupcakes in the world because they had the best ingredient of all – love.

And I know that sounds cheesy. Just like the cheese and potato pie my Nan would serve up on a regular basis. A simple dish made of, you’ve guessed it – cheese and mashed potatoes baked in the oven. I used to help her by making patterns on the top of the “pie” with a fork prior to it being put in the oven. To me this felt like the most important part of the preparation. For something with just a few ingredients, this was surprisingly unbelieveably tasty. Everything she cooked was. My Nan grew up during the Second World War so she knew how to make the best out of whatever she had, a philosophy which stayed with her all of her life.

For me, she will always be my number one culinary hero as she was responsible for my love of good food as well as some of the best meals I ever ate.

But the real #1 on this list isn’t just my grandmother who only a few of you had the chance to meet, the real #1 is your own grandmother, or mother, or great-aunt, or whoever the person was who first put a good home-cooked meal in front of you, for that is more often than not the taste one remembers when reminiscing on the best meals they ever ate, and the most popular answer I have encountered when playing the “last meal game”. It doesn’t matter where you come from on the globe. If you’re from the UK you’ll probably have grown up with shepherd’s pie or beef stew and dumplings. If you’re from Jamaica your mother probably served up pepperpot soup or ackee and saltfish. And everybody in Texas thinks their grandpa had the best barbecue sauce recipe in Texas. You see what I’m getting at here. In short, the best food comes from home, wherever it is.

So, those are my ten culinary heroes. Who’s yours??

A Square Meal At The Square Olive?

Square Olive
2-6 Bridge Road, Hampton Court, Surrey KT8 9HA

I was hungover and starving, and the girlfriend hadn’t eaten much either when she met me from Hampton Court station. We’d talked earlier in the week about doing lunch. Yo Sushi was mentioned, but hunger made our lunch plans for us and shoved us over the road into the first place we came to, which just happened to be Pizza Express. We sat by the window at first until we noticed the vast number of babies within close proximity and decided against it. For some reason, every parent in Hampton Court had chosen today to take their baby to Pizza Express.

Now I have nothing against babies, I used to be one myself. But if just one of the little blighters were to start crying it would have set off a wailing chain reaction with a noise level akin to that of an air raid siren. I asked a waiter if we could sit at the back, but when we got there another waiter appeared and told us off because apparently we weren’t allowed to sit there for another ten minutes. Actually, he was quite rude about it. So we left and went round the corner where we stumbled into the Square Olive.

Now we’ve walked past this place many a time, but it took extreme hunger to eventually get us through the door. The outside decor does little to grab one’s attention and pull you in, yet once over the threshold you are greeted by an impressive spacious interior with elegant, contemporary decor (see photo above, taken from their website).

Indeed, Square Olive is a prime piece of real estate given it’s size and location in upmarket Hampton Court just a stone’s throw from the palace. Sadly it was virtually empty, again hinting that maybe the exterior design could do with a rethink. However quite often the facade proves to not be a very good indicator of what’s on offer – although I hoped the food was not as bland as the outside. Still, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as Averna half a mile down the road. Or could it??

Again referencing their website, Square Olive claims to offer “the finest of Italian cuisine in surroundings nothing short of sheer elegance”, and apparently “the spirit of Italy has been incorporated in every detail of this charming and sophisticated restaurant and bar”.

Spirit of Italy?? Are they talking about Grappa??

We sat down to order, admiring the stylish interior design but also trying to pick out any traces of the so-called “spirit of Italy” anywhere therein, and simultaneously trying to block out the drone of the two middle-aged ladies gossiping loudly behind us. They were offering a lunch special – two courses for 10.95 which was quite reasonable. The starters were divided into antipasti and insalata, and as for mains there was a selection of pasta dishes and pizza. I went for the calamari with homemade dill sauce…

…and the girlfriend chose garlic bread with caramelised onions and cheese.

The portion sizes were generous for a starter, the calamari by itself was satisfactory but ever so slightly overdone. The dill sauce, however, was over-everything – over-sour, over-tangy and overwhelming the overall flavour. Even when just using a small amount. And it had a texture like emulsion paint. For a dill sauce, I struggled to pick out even the slightest suggestion of dill, the wedge of lemon providing all the accompaniment the squid needed. It was also nice to have an assortment of tentacles along with the customary rings. A lot of people still think calamari means just squid rings.

As for the garlic bread, the girlfriend seemed pleased and gave me a bite of hers. The “caramelised onions” were more like a caramelised onion chutney, but a good one which tasted homemade. It could have done with a bit more cheese, but there was just enough to elevate the twang of the chutney. The bread was nice – crispy on the outside and soft in the middle. Not a very typical Italian starter, I thought, but it kept the girlfriend happy. She seemed to like the dill sauce. In fact when she saw I was not eating it she swiped it and dunked the crusts of her garlic bread in it.

For our main course we’d ordered a couple of pizzas. Maybe it was our brief visit to Pizza Express that put us in the mood for pizza. It took a while to arrive which would have been perfectly acceptable if the place was banged out, but it was still only us and the two loud bitching women behind us. I’d gone for the Capricciosa (Artichokes, cotto ham, olives, tomato and mozzarella):

Personally I am not a fan of olives when they have been heated, so if I’d have been cooking this I would have put them on when I took the pizza out of the oven. That way I could also have made sure there was one olive on each slice. Nitpicking, perhaps?? Maybe. But there’s nothing wrong with a touch of consistency (Or a touch of chilli oil, for that matter). Instead the five olives looked like they had been scattered by a whirling dervish. And they could have warned me that they had left the stones in. They will be getting my next dentist’s bill. And the stones meant that I had to pick them up to eat them, therefore I could not enjoy their taste alongside the other ingredients.

But how did it taste?? Well, not bad. Artichoke on a pizza is something I haven’t had before and it certainly went down well. The cotto ham was the highlight – crispy but still moist. Altogether it isn’t a bad combination. I saw Anthony Bourdain’s Pacific Northwest episode recently, where he visits a pizza restaurant in Seattle run by a guy known affectionately as the “Pizza Nazi”. He gets this nickname because he imposes strict rules on which toppings his diners can order – three toppings apiece, and only one meat. I kind of agree with his philosophy – sometimes too many toppings can ruin a pizza. This one would have met the Pizza Nazi’s standards but I doubt it would have got his mouth watering. In short it was an okay pizza and along with the calamari, well worth £10.95.

The girlfriend had opted for the “ortolana” – mozzarella and tomato with roasted vegetables. I’m not sure if red and green peppers count as two separate vegetables, but until she was about three quarters of the way through they appeared to be the only two in sight, until she came across a shard of charred green matter which may once have been a courgette.

She described the whole dish as a bit overdone and nothing special. That was a pretty good analogy for Square Olive in general – overdone on the inside in the sense that a lot of work had gone into it, although this wasn’t the case for the food which was okay but left quite a lot to be desired and did not taste or feel all too authentic. The spirit of Italy is not so much worked into every detail but rather sulking in the corner.

It is worth mentioning that the drinks are overpriced (more than a fiver for two small bottles of coke), but as far as the lunch special is concerned, the only thing special is the price as you will not pay through the nose or leave hungry. That said, I would go back if I wanted something simple in nice surroundings for a fair price. Based on that, I’m giving it:

Place: 4/5
Service: 2.5/5
Food: 2.5/5
Value: 3/5
OVERALL: 12/20

………Wait a second. Did I really just open a post with that line?? And before you mention it – no, The Girlfriend didn’t put me up to this post. I happen to think it’s quite a cool film. And I’m going somewhere with this. So fuck you guys!!

I’m just kidding. But anyway if you HAVE ever watched Happy Feet you’ll know that every penguin has a heartsong. (Apart from the main character, Mumble, of course. That’s kind of what the film’s about, he has to find his heartsong). But this got me thinking. I wonder what mine is??

“Heartsong”. What an awesome word. Although I’m not sure it’s actually in the dictionary, so we don’t have an official meaning or definition to go by. It means precisely what you want it to mean. So I’ll tell you what it means to me in an attempt to forge some sort of unofficial definition.

A heartsong isn’t just a song that you really really like. It’s so much more than that, it’s like, it’s a song that resonates from within your very heart. A song that makes you feel glad to be alive. It can be a particular rhythm, melody or lyric that does it, or a combination of all three, but whenever you hear it it gives you the same feeling, and it says more about you than any words spoken by anyone else ever could. You feel like it was fucking written for you.

I was on the bus the other day and usually I sit by the window, watch the world go by and my mind starts to wander. Right then I was thinking about what might be my “heartsong”. My head was then awash with tunes, suggestions of possible candidates, perhaps. But then I quickly realised that these were actually just songs that reminded me of particular moments throughout my life. Mostly good times. Not always the best but certainly the most poignant moments. So I thought I’d share some of those with you.

Song: “We Built This City”
Artist: Starship
What it reminds me of: Being a kid.

I don’t remember much about this song. But I do remember that I fucking loved it. I would dance like a nutter whenever it came on. Which on reflection must have been quite embarrasing for my mum in the middle of Asda. It was just the lyrics that did it for me really – my young mind was like, “Wow, they built a city on rock and roll!!” And the band was called Starship – how cool was that??!! Other songs I used to like when I was little were “Caravan Of Love” by The Housemartins (as it had a caravan in the title and I loved every form of transportation, pikey or otherwise), “I wanna dance with somebody” by Whitney Houston (although I’m told I used to sing a version of it which sounded like “I wanna dance with some barley”. I always was a bit special.) And last but not least, “I Think We’re Alone Now” by Tiffany. Again, I’d misheard the lyrics. In my version of this song, the next line went: “There doesn’t seem to be any RUN AROUND!!!” at which point I would run around like a nutter. So yeah. Starship.

Song: “It Doesn’t Matter Anymore”
Artist: Buddy Holly
What it reminds me of: My Grandad

Still around the same age group – four or five years old. On Saturday nights, my grandad would take me to the Ranelagh Arms with him. My mum and stepdad had just started dating so my stepdad would pick us up, drop me off at my grandparents’ place and then the two of them would go out somewhere. But not before my mum had given me a pound so I could play the arcade machine because she knew how tight my grandad was. He would buy me one small coke all night and ask the barman to put lots of ice in it so that he could get away with charging for a dash!! I knew that I had to make it last all night because I would not be getting another one. But the thing that attracted me the most about going to the pub with my grandad (when I could have quite easily stayed in with my nan and had a sing-song or watched tv or played with my lego set) was the arcade machine in the back. It was one of those ones that had about six different games in one, but my favourite was a side-scrolling beat-em-up called Burning Fight. I remember I used to put my money in, have a few goes and be really annoyed if I died early on because it meant that I now had to wait another week to try again!!

I wonder why you don’t see arcade machines in pubs these days. I think its because they are nothing new any more. Back then, they were a thing of wonder, along with karaoke which was another Japanese invention that was popping up everywhere. This pub had both, but their regular music policy was very old-fashioned and quite out of place by comparison. It was a load of country and western. They would play songs like “Mary Lou” by Ricky Nelson, “Bye Bye Love” by The Everly Brothers, and the one above, by Buddy Holly. For some reason this is the one that sticks out the most for me and reminds me of my grandad whenever I listen to it.

Song: “How You Remind Me”
Artist: Nickelback
What it reminds me of: Austria, 2002.

Exactly ten years ago to the day, I was in Vienna, Austria, undertaking a month-long work experience exchange program as part of college. I was 16, and legally old enough to drink, which I wasn’t in London. But that’s not why I went. In fact I only realised that on the plane on the way there. I was like, fuck yeah! I refuse to enter a new country sober!! (I hope I never go to Saudi Arabia…)

But it was the first time I’d been abroad on my own, and naturally anyone would be nervous. But I quickly got over that. The first couple of days I hated Vienna, and then I loved this new sense of freedom I had. I started my work placement and then would go out to a bar or something with the other guys on the trip after work pretty much every night.

So why Nickelback? Well, at the time I was still discovering my own music tastes. I had gone through a gangsta rap phase (everyone at my school went through a gangsta rap phase) but I have to say I was a bit of a late bloomer. It was some of my friends in the skate scene who weaned me off of Biggie Smalls, Eminem and Busta Rhymes and introduced me to bands such as Green Day, Papa Roach and Linkin Park.

Then at around the time I went to Austria, Nickelback exploded onto the scene with “How You Remind Me”. It was a big tune that transcended boundaries – it was just about tame enough for most mainstream music fans, yet metal kids loved it because it retained an underlying anger which manifested itself in the chorus. And it was playing all over the airwaves and on every music channel while we were in Austria. You couldn’t escape from it. But when we realised Nickelback were in town in about a week’s time, we just had to go and see them live. And it was a great gig – the first one I’d actually been to of my own accord.

Song: “One Love”
Artist: Blue
What it reminds me of: The Gothic Pub A.K.A. The Ben Crouch

Like I'd actually post a link to a Blue video on my site.

Okay, first off I fucking hate this song. I hate Blue, to be honest. I even hate the colour blue, as it reminds me of Chelsea. (I’m just kidding if you read this babe!!)

But this song will always bring back fond memories for me, despite the fact that it blows. Back to the subject of drinking – well I had been doing it a lot more since I returned from Austria and started my first job about six months later. I was working at London Air Travel just off of Oxford Street, and was loving it. I’d met loads of new people and now had a social life (which mainly consisted of going to the Old Explorer almost every night with Fox, James, and Russell the scary Latvian).

But when we fancied a change from the Old Explorer, we went to the Ben Crouch. This was part of a franchise called the “Eerie Pub Company” which was a chain of horror-themed pubs. Sadly though, the Ben Crouch closed down a few years back. I couldn’t even find any photos of it (although I may have some on my old PC so I’ll have a look tomorrow). But here is a photo of one of their other pubs, so you can get the idea. It looks a lot like it.

Being a horror-themed pub, it was a magnet for goths, metallers and people on their way to a BDSM night. Or pretty much anyone who belonged to what I would later discover and describe as “the alternative spectrum”. So a much more straight-laced Raven and his mainstream mates would call this pub “The Gothic Pub”. I must say I always enjoyed it in here a lot more, and would usually be the one pestering the others to go here more often. But later on I would get the chance, and for a while this place was actually my regular haunt. Two of my best celebrity stories happened in here: one night I met Billie Joe Armstrong from Green Day. He looked miserable so I offered to buy him a drink. He asked for a pint of lemonade. Rock and fuckin’ roll. I also met Johnny Vegas here a while after that. He was a lot more cheerful (and more drunk) but actually spoke to me and Fox for about an hour, and bought us a drink. He was a really nice bloke. He was with a guy who I’m now sure was Stephen Merchant, only he wasn’t that famous at the time.

Anyway, I digress. What business did Blue have in a so-called “gothic pub”?? Well, I’ll tell you. The music in that place was pretty much all rock and metal, predictably enough. The more hardcore patrons would congregate at the far end of the bar (next to the omnipresent old Indian guy) and thrash around wildly to whatever heavy metal song came on. Not that it bothered the old Indian guy, who was there come rain or shine, always in his same spot.

But the jukebox must have been on a random play, because one night this song came on, completely out of the blue (NPI). And we turned around to the awesomely hilarious sight of five or six goths who had been throwing themselves around to Sisters Of Mercy only seconds ago and were suddenly confronted with this. What did they do?? They did the most rock and roll thing they could think of. They carried on dancing. Didn’t even miss a beat. I’m not sure what snakebite does to the human brain but it can’t be good if it makes you dance to Blue. It was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen, six grown men with black tanktops and leather and piercings and tattoos, uneasily gyrating to the sound of “One Love”. Note to self: Don’t drink snakebite!!

Song: “Fly On The Wings Of Love”
Artist: XTM / DJ Sammy or something.
What it reminds me of: Newcastle and becoming a man.

Please excuse the Final Fantasy montage, it was the only decent video I could find with this song.

Shortly after I left London Air Travel and started temping, I met my first proper girlfriend. A geordie lass named Heather. I was still working quite close to Oxford Street, so on Fridays I would pop over and meet Fox and James and Adrian for a drink. Being in a long distance relationship was hard, but not without its rewards. We’d speak every night, and somehow we managed to see each other almost every weekend. She would get the train down to London and then the next week I would fly up to Newcastle. Somehow we managed it for eight months. Once I even convinced Fox and Adrian to come up to Newcastle with me. They had such a good time that the three of us went back even after me and Heather broke up.

But I’ll never forget the first time I went to Newcastle – Heather had met me from the airport and promised to show me her city. We got the Metro into town and some girls got on that she described to me as “charvers”. Little did I know that was the precursor to the word “chav” that is used so often these days. They have had chavs in Newcastle for years. They just called them “charvers”. I asked what a “charver” actually was. To my untrained eyes, they looked just like every other teenager on the train. Apparently they wear burberry and listen to music like the song above. Charver music.

We got to the centre of town, went to pizza hut, then back to our hotel (I was not allowed to stay at her house yet because I had not met her mum lol). That evening we went out in Newcastle and it was one of the best nights ever, the highlight of which was when we were in a club and this song came on, which had us first referring back to the original discussion about “charver” culture and then just falling about the place laughing. I fell in love that night. With Newcastle. It’s a fantastic city for a night out and eight years later I still want to go back. Last I heard, Heather moved to Leeds with her girlfriend. Yes, girlfriend.
To conclude, none of these songs above will ever be considered my “heartsong”, but when I hear them they will always have a place in my heart because I will remember those moments and how I felt. I haven’t found my heartsong yet, but I have an idea of what it might be though. However I’m still looking. Just in case I missed anything. So watch this space…

To Be Continued…

Westfield Shopping Centre wasn’t the only retail collective to open its doors in my local area as of late. The Boxpark recently opened in Shoreditch on the corner of Bethnal Green Road, underneath the railway lines. The whole site had been closed to the public for over a year previously and was something of a mystery. Every time I’d gone past on the bus I would try to peer over the boards, wondering what they were doing in there. So I was intrigued when the boards came down and I saw that this was the fruit of their labours…

Meet Boxpark. The world’s first “pop-up mall”, so they claim. Whatever that is. Well, what it is is actually a collection of food and retail outlets inside converted shipping containers, as if a small cargo ship had just moored in Bethnal Green. Minus the bodies of asphyxiated illegal immigrants, of course. But also minus the pomposity of the much bigger place a couple of miles down the road. No nonsense. No egos (Well, a few). And no logos (aside from on the flyers and signboards outside each one). It’s still a mall but… much less conspicuous.

Could this serve as an example to Westfield of the right way to do things?? Well, I made my way down there to get a closer look and find out for myself.

Boxpark is on two levels. This is the upper deck, where all the food places are. Naturally this is where I headed first, The snow had got there before me so I cautiously manoeuvred myself around the containers, not wanting my hungover body to end up in a heap of blood, snow and broken bones.

Foxcroft & Ginger on the left hand side is like your average coffee shop. Chop’d, for those of you who don’t know, is a chain of salad bars. Not much to say about either of these.

Hop-Namo on the other hand, was a very mouthwatering prospect…


A Vietnamese eatery (something there is way too little of in this town, about 90% of London’s Vietnamese restaurants are located in Shoreditch).

And one that serves Banh Mi, too. Since the Mon Mé girls in Brick Lane Market are no longer around, this could well become one of my new favourite haunts. Provided, of course, that they passed the taste test. Which they did, with flying colours…

Behold – the Star Anise Beef Shin banh mi with pickled cabbage and salad. A tasty treat, just about worth the fiver I paid for it (taking nothing away from the taste, but it was a little on the small side for a fiver).

“Namo” means “to pay homage” in Vietnamese, and the banh mi they serve at Hop-Namo are the Westernised cousin of the typical snack you’d find on the streets of Hanoi. Thankfully though, it does pay homage to its roots. The shin of a cow is often woefully overlooked, but handled correctly it is a wonderful cut of meat, as in this incarnation above. The anise and beef dance with each other and after a lot of foreplay jump right between the sheets (or two bits of bread). The result is one sexy sandwich.

So with a full belly, I felt ready to have a look around the rest of the Boxpark.

Mexway is (surprisingly) a Mexican place. This one looked promising but was a little too pricey. Plus I’d just eaten, which is unlike me. Usually when I go to a place with lots of different eateries I spend ages walking around, making sure that I have a look at each one – something my friend Dean knows only too well. But right now I wasn’t in the mood for a burrito – I fancied something sweet…

…and lo and behold I stumbled on Cyber Candy!! I was so glad that this had been an addition to the Boxpark. Anybody who doesn’t know about this place should go and check it out – they have branches in at least two other locations in London that I know about (Covent Garden and Angel), and I find it impossible to enter one without buying something. They sell sweets and chocolates from the States and from all across the globe, the kinds you just can’t get in London (albeit for a lot more, in some cases three times what you’d pay for one). But it is worth it when you have a sudden craving for something that reminds you of somewhere good. In this case I bought a butterfinger, a pack of Big Red chewing gum and a Jelly Belly soda (yes, they now do sodas).

Cyber Candy is full of weird and wonderful things, like these Spam mints.

If I had my way there would be a Cyber Candy on every corner of every street. Although I might change the music policy – overly-happy Japanese techno mixed with the occasional cheese track. When I walked in, the music from the “It’s A Small World” ride in Florida was playing. If you’ve ever been there, as my girlfriend has, you’ll know that while you queue they play that song on a loop so that it gets permanently burned into your memory.

Moving on, we had a frozen yoghurt place which was closed

My uncle Paul made a comment on my Westfield article – that the only thing missing from that huge gargantuan mall was a pie and mash shop. He couldn’t have been more right. The Boxpark is about fifty times smaller than Westfield, but Paul, you’ll be pleased to know that it does have a pie and mash shop.

For a shipping container, it’s actually pretty cosy inside and does remind you of an authentic East End pie and mash shop. I wandered in, hoping to get a feel for the place, and had a chat with the friendly Polish girl behind the counter while checking out her pies…

Yes, it’s an upmarket pie and mash shop, but they did look tasty. Don’t expect to find any liquor here, instead the menu kept mentioning something called “groovy” which I can only guess is some variant of gravy.

If he had been there, my uncle probably would have turned his nose up at Pieminister and hopped on a Number 8 bus to the pie and mash shop opposite the butchers in Roman Road. What he doesn’t know is that my friend Baran bought that place a few years ago and turned it into a Turkish grill restaurant. I’d better keep that one quiet. In short, Pieminister won’t give you the true East End pie and mash experience, but it looks good. I still might give it a go.

Next to Pieminister there’s a Crussh smoothie place…

…and finally a burger place called Bukowski’s. I saw a good review of this place a couple of months back and want to go back there at some point to check it out for myself.

Since it had been snowing, the chef had been keeping himself amused…

Downstairs there was a row of clothes shops facing onto the street. Brands like O’Neills, Vans, North Face, etc. Nothing terribly exciting for me but I know my cousin George would love it. At least it would give him something to do while his old man was upstairs stuffing his face with pie and mash.


And my girlfriend would be happy too as there are penguins. Well, one penguin. Well, one shop with a penguin on the door and the word “Penguin” in the name, anyway.

Overall, the Boxpark is a unique concept which I can see taking off. There’s still quite a bit of unused land next door which they could expand on and add a few more outlets. Okay, there are chains. There are labels. A couple of big ones, too – Puma have already set up shop and Nike are opening up in March. But there are also small independent outlets and fledgling brands such as a lot of the food places upstairs, and a handful of shops which are involved in charity work which is always good. On the whole, I’d still much rather pass on Westfield and go somewhere like this.

Today I thought I’d go and check out the new Westfield shopping centre which has miraculously appeared not far from my house.

I’ve gotta admit, they’ve done a good job with it. It’s sparkling and brand new, like a shiny castle guarded by multilingual attendants who march around bearing shiny little name badges with flags on to show off how many languages they are proficient in. Anyone would think they’re about to hold the Olympic Games here or something. From the outside at least, it seems like the work they put into Westfield Stratford has paid off.

But that’s all over once you step inside and realise that it is just in fact, and not surprisingly, another mall – another glossy, homogenised parade of franchises thrown together under one roof. Another place for people to gather and spend their money while being fed messages by the devil of advertising – a temple to the god of consumerism, with psalms like “Buy this!!” “Dress this way!!” “Don’t think for yourselves, we can do that for you!!”

In short, another example of the generic, soulless experience which worryingly, is fast becoming the face of shopping everywhere. If you awoke from a coma while standing at the heart of Westfield’s central atrium and turned 360°, you wouldn’t have a clue where you were other than that you were in a mall somewhere. You could be in any city in any developed country on the planet. But sadly, this scene is now commonplace. Alas, this is the new market square.

Not to say there aren’t some similarities with a market square – of course, money is spent. Admittedly a whole lot more money, but it’s the same principle, just on a bigger and much grander scale. And as with any place where large numbers of people gather, you get the age-old problem of having a lot of hungry people in one place. Westfield has solved this problem the same way that many other malls have done before – by sticking a selection of the UK’s biggest and most well-known restaurants and fast food chains under one roof. After all, if you build it, they will come.

The food court. The Antithesis to everything that is good about food. My nemesis. And Westfield has not one, but three. So I thought I’d take a walk around and see for myself the different options that a hungry shopper might choose to satisfy his or her hunger, in the hope that I might be pleasantly surprised.

Surprise surprise, this was one of the first ones I came across.

Now, Subway is kind of a double-edged sword. Yes, it’s a chain. But as a consumer you do have a lot more control over what goes into your end product. And it’s gotta be healthier than McDonalds or Burger King, right?? Well, we won’t go into that. And a lot of their menus contain a heading entitled “Local Favourites”, which has got to be good, right?? Well, we will go into that. I’ll always remember something I once read on a Subway pamphlet, along the lines of “If you order one of our sandwiches in Jamaica, then fly to New Zealand and order exactly the same sandwich, you won’t be able to taste the difference”. Clearly nobody has told them that this isn’t a good thing. What’s wrong with using what’s fresh and what’s local?? Anyway… moving on, we have…

“Olive Oil and Oregano”. What, do they only serve two ingredients??

And again. Do they only serve sticky rice and nothing else?? Doesn’t sound very appetising. What’s up with the names in this place??

Of course, the colonel has set up shop…

…as well as the clown.

Mr Ramsden’s flying the flag for British enterprise…

… and there’s a Spudulike. Sort of a throwback to the ’80s which seems to be enjoying a bit of a revival.

Then there’s the first of two Caribbean food places, “Caribbean Scene”. Or rather “Caribbean Scene Quick”. Wait, have they added the word “Quick” to denote that it’s supposed to be a fast food place?? That wouldn’t go down too well in the slow, laid back pace of the Caribbean.

That covers the first area, which is the most informal of the three and the only one to feature a central dining area with generic tables, obviously designed so that people can get a quick bite to eat then get back to spending their money. The second area is the Great Eastern Market, which is in the area outside Waitrose.

Waitrose obviously decided that one huge green neon sign wasn’t enough, and put a second one up. Cunningly, they put it right above the sign that said “Great Eastern Market”, so that it looked like they sponsored or were in some way responsible for, the Great Eastern Market. However, the Westfield bigwigs were having none of this, and to avoid any confusion over whose Great Eastern Market it is they put up a smaller sign to the left that simply read “and”. And the rest was history. Well, that’s probably what happened, anyway.

The Great Eastern Market is a small area built around the escalator outside Waitrose, and looks as if it was designed with an Arabian souk kind of feel in mind. By somebody who has probably never been to an Arabian souk. It’s full of places whose menus and literature are full of culinary buzz words such as “artisanal”.

Karaway is a prime example.

Opposite is a small moorish tapas bar, Elcantara. I’ve got to admit this did look intriguing.

Then there’s Royal – an Indian sweet shop. Not the kind on your average corner. This one specialises in high-end Indian desserts and they are rather nice if you can stomach the price.


When I saw the sign for “Tap East”, I immediately thought of an Eastern-style tapas bar.

However, this was not the case. On further inspection I learned that it is in fact a microbrewery – and rather a cute one as you’ll see below. I’m mildly annoyed that in the whole of Westfield this is the one place which most closely resembles a pub, yet they seem ashamed to call it that and so it got labelled with the tag of “microbrewery”. The “Stratford City” part was also put there to annoy me. Stratford is not and never will be a city.

Next up, how about a quick nosh??

Then there’s “Zack’s Authentic Lebanese Deli”. Not sure that “Zack” is an authentically Lebanese name.

Not to be outdone, the Italians set up a deli right next door. They called theirs “Arancini”, which does at least sound Italian, although what was on offer looked very average for such an upmarket price.

Tucked right around the corner is Westfield’s best kept secret – Umai, a Japanese eatery and supermarket. As I could quite easily eat nothing but Japanese food, I was in my element here. Finally there was a reason to keep me coming back – I now have a Japanese supermarket just twenty minutes from my house.

The last place I saw was Arabella. They do nuts and dates and stuff.

Just upstairs from the Great Eastern Market there was this place handing out free samples. After trying one I ran back and immediately grabbed a handful. Mr Pretzel’s might just do the nicest cinnamon donuts around.

Then I found myself in the largest of the three “food courts”, if you could call them that. You could certainly call this one it, as there was a sign to that effect.

Of course, I was intrigued just to find out how many different world cuisines were represented in the “World Food Court”. I must say I was pleasantly surprised.

1 – Japanese. Yo! Sushi does a lot of business on the back of the ‘novelty factor’, the whole conveyor belt thing. To be fair though, I’ve eaten there many a time and the food is not that bad. Of course, it can’t hold a candle to properly prepared sushi, but as a representative for Japanese cuisine I’m so glad they went with this and not Wagamama’s.

2 – Mexican. Again, another restaurant which has succumbed to the trend of naming itself after a key ingredient in its cuisine. That’s like KFC calling itself “Mutant Birds” or my local Chinese takeaway calling itself “Saliva”. I’ve gotta admit this one isn’t bad, but then I’m a sucker for all things Mexican, especially Salma Hayek’s knockers.

3 – American. Chicago Rib Shack, to be precise.

Apparently, they also do burgers and wings. Though, given the name I was surprised to find out that they do ribs as well.

4 – Thai. And I was delighted to see that it was this place – Rosa’s – that they had chosen to represent Thai cuisine. They have their flagship branch in Spitalfields where I have eaten on two occasions and been highly impressed, firstly I was introduced to it by Rob and Maew last year, and I took The Girlfriend there in September. Both times were pretty good experiences.

This whole “World Food Court” seems to have an emphasis on “street food”. That is, they are going for a street food feel. They must have been – “Street Food” is mentioned in at least three of the neon signs.
5 – Indian

6 – Vietnamese

7 – Chinese

Street food for me is small, independent retailers doing what they do best or what they have done for years, if not generations. Street food is one of my favourite kinds of food (being a fat guy, I am allowed to have more than one). But it does involve something of a venture into the unknown – walking around a market, trying new things, sampling not only the foods but the smells, the colours and the sounds. It’s why I always go to the local market whenever I first arrive in a new place, it allows you to really get a feel of the heart and soul of the place. It seemed like the Westfield planners wanted to capture that feel, but if they were shooting for authenticity, they missed. Something wasn’t quite right about it.

8 – Lebanese. “Comptoir Libanais”, a.k.a. the home of the giant scary face.
9 – Italian. Well, pizza anyway. Technically more of an American thing but that’s another debate.

Banger Bros – Sausages. I can’t really count this as a seperate cuisine. “Banger Bros” sounds quite British but then again calling them “dogs” is an American practice for a quintessentially German ingredient. So a bit of a weird one.

10 – Caribbean. And again, overpriced Caribbean. Actually this one seemed even less authentic than the one in the first food court – I think it had something to do with the logo. It kind of gave the impression that Levi Roots wasn’t too far away. In fact I hurried on in case he popped out from behind the fake palm trees.

11 -  British. Fish & chips, Or “Chip & Fish”, as they like to call it. That makes it sound like you get loads of individual fishes but only one chip.

And finally, not really a cuisine but they had a healthier eating option, a place lovingly entitled “Tossed”. I’m not eating their salad dressing.

So that covers all of the food courts. Upstairs there is a Gourmet Burger Kitchen, TGI’s and a few others, and there are a few more restaurants outside including, I’m told, a Brazilian barbecue. It was a bit too cold to venture out there, though. With all of these, plus the various kiosks dotted around which serve ice cream, coffee, donuts, etc,  you are actually spoiled for choice. Which brand will you go for today??

And if it all goes horribly wrong, there’s always Greggs.

Good old Greggs, home of the Chicken Tikka sandwich with thousand island sauce. I love how this branch has been given a good old polish which your average high street branch is often lacking.

Overall, the food options at Westfield may be vastly numbered, but they are there out of necessity and nothing else. It seems like when the various chains heard Westfield was being built, they all wanted a piece of the action. And sadly in a world where money is king, Westfield’s big cheeses had the opportunity to do something really innovative with the food scene, instead they passed it up to the highest bidder. Their attempt at recreating a street food scene using corporate outlets was laughable, a plastic chopstick through the heart of the small business. What’s even more annoying is that they only needed to hop on the tube up to Camden Town to see how it should be done. If you’re a gourmand with a sense of adventure such as myself, you should definitely look further afield than Westfield.

On the other hand, if you like wearing labels and fitting in with the crowd, and hate trying new things or *heaven forbid* actually thinking for yourself and coming up with your own ideas, go to Westfield. You’ll love it. But please stop calling it “Stratford City”, I beg you.

The problem is that for some reason the pictures were not restored when the site was brought back online. We’re talking 1,100+ images. I know that the pictures are still out there somewhere. They are still showing up in Google Images search. But the web team still have not got back to Dean regarding whether or not my pictures were backed up. And I don’t really have time to manually save over a thousand images and then upload them into WordPress. The photos save quite small anyway so I’m not sure it would be the same. Unfortunately it seems as though there’s no straightforward solution. But watch this space.

So, why FFXIII?? Well, The Girlfriend has a PS3 and very kindly bought me a second hand copy. So I was finally able to play the game, 18 months after its release date. My experiences with the previous FF games I’d played (VII, VIII, IX, X and XII) had instilled in me an idea of what to expect from a new one – that balance between the familiar and the groundbreakingly new. Sometimes the new features take a bit of getting used to, but I’ve yet to be disappointed by any of the FF titles apart from X-2 which was a sequel and therefore, in my opinion, not a true FF title. So I had high hopes when I slotted the disc in for the very first time.

Final Fantasy XIII

Publisher: Square
Released: March 2010

First impressions? Well, The cut scenes are fabulous as always and the graphics are understandably the best ones yet. I was quite surprised when I noticed Leona Lewis’ name pop up in the opening credits. Whilst it cannot be denied that Ms. Lewis has an amazing voice, it felt out of place and I personally felt a bit let down that Square felt the need to add such a big name to the soundtrack. It’s not like FF games have difficulty flying off shelves now, is it? (Incidentally, this would be the first Final Fantasy game with which the genius Nobuo Uematsu had no involvement. I was apprehensive but decided to let my ears be the judge.)

The opening sequence features a train (now where have I seen that before in the Final Fantasy series?? Hmmm… I wonder) and we get our first glimpse of the characters. Among the passengers is the main character, Lightning. Although she’s a girl, there’s more than a hint of Cloud Strife about her. She kicks off and destroys a bunch of people which is pretty cool. We also meet Sazh Katzroy, the token ‘cool black guy’ with a soft spot for tiny yellow birds (chocobos, as any hardcore FF fan will tell you). He has a baby one living in his afro which would be quite gross if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s so bloody cute. Add some tasty guns and a Samuel L. Jackson-esque voice actor into the mix, and it’s difficult not to like Sazh.

Gradually we are introduced to the full cast of six playable characters, about whom I have divided opinions. We have Snow Villiers, the leader of a resistance movement, whose heart appears to be as big as his ego (although only just). Being a resistance leader would immediately throw up comparisons to Barret from FF7, although whereas Barret fights for personal reasons Snow appears for the most part to be fighting simply so that he can be seen as a ‘hero’. But I feel Snow actually has more in common with FF8′s Seifer, in the sense that there’s always the suggestion that he could easily turn villain. Think Seifer with the fist-fighting skills of Zell. Snow is maybe my favourite character in the whole game.

But I did say my opinions were divided. While the amount of hard work that has obviously gone into developing the characters is well evident, not all of it has paid off. Vanille, for example, is annoying as fuck. For the most part, she’s just way too cheerful. Like makes-you-want-to-scramble-her-face-with-an-electric-egg-whisk-cheerful.

Hope also starts out being a pretty lame character, but I like how his story unravels and he develops from somewhat of a wuss into a tough young fighter seeking revenge on Snow who he blames for the death of his mother. Looks-wise, though, he still reminds me of a pre-pubescent Tidus.

Rounding up the party is Vanille’s sister Fang, whose Australian accent feels a bit out of place, but her fighting skills make her an asset to the party.

The storyline in a nutshell: Basically, there are two worlds called “Pulse” and “Cocoon”. The citizens of Pulse and Cocoon do not like each other. To say they don’t trust each other is an understatement – Cocoon’s government has a policy of “purging” anyone who is from Pulse, has been to Pulse, or has even brushed past someone in the street who has been there. By ‘purging’, they mean ‘killing’. Sazh and Lightning are two such citizens about to be purged before Lightning breaks free from the train and destroys all the guards. At the same time, a rebel faction called “Operation N.O.R.A.”, led by Snow, fights back against the Cocoon government and the six characters’ paths eventually cross. Pulse and Cocoon are sort of run by these god-like creatures called the “Fal’Cie”, who force anyone who comes into contact with them to become their slaves (or “l’Cie”). The l’Cie have to perform a task (called a “focus”), otherwise they turn into mindless zombie-like creatures called “Cie’th”. The party stumbles upon a Fal’Cie and they all become l’Cie, and they must then figure out their focus in order to avoid becoming Cie’th.

Pretty confusing stuff. So confusing, in fact, that the player is given a feature called the “Datalog”, which can be accessed via the menu and displays a running summary of the storyline events as the game progresses. After cutscenes, players are often greeted by the message “Datalog Updated”, so just in case you couldn’t understand what was just happening in the last cutscene, it is all written down for you. The datalog also contains useful information such as an explanation of the battle system and bios of the characters you meet along the way, and also a bestiary where players can view information on enemies they’ve defeated. So much information, in fact, that the Datalog effectively rules out any need for a strategy guide. A genius marketing ploy. But it does make you wonder… how good can a game be if it needs a “datalog” to explain its own storyline?? It’s kind of reminiscent of the blackboard scene in Back To The Future 2.

The most common criticism I’ve heard of FFXIII is that of its linear-style of gameplay. This has been well documented as one of the game’s fundamental flaws and has been banded around discussion boards since the game’s release, with some critics even going as far as to say that Square have ruined the game by removing the sense of free-roaming and exploration that is the true nature of the Final Fantasy series. I too was doubtful, but decided to reserve judgment until I’d given it a chance. After all, the Resident Evil titles (to name but one franchise) are all pretty linear, and they made great games.

So, just how linear is it? Well, very. You literally run down corridors fighting enemies then watching cutscenes, and occasionally stopping to tweak your battle get-up. That’s right, for the most part you are confined to paths in which the only way to go is onward to your next destination. What gets me is that the scenery is some of the best in a Final Fantasy game. Stunning 3D backdrops to a game which, ironically, feels very one-dimensional.

This would be even a little bearable if the player was given some form of occasional distraction such as a new town or village to explore; however, even the cities of FFXIII are made up of sets of paths leading from A to B. Even the odd shop would be a welcome addition, but they’ve done away with them as well. Instead, the player purchases items from save points by first selecting “shop”, then choosing from a list of shops. Sort of like buying online. Even small details such as treasure chests are now replaced by treasure ‘spheres’, orbs (normally guarded by enemies) which oscillate in mid air. Which is all well and good, it’s just that there’s no need for it.

Now, let’s talk about maybe the most important aspect of a Final Fantasy game: The battle system.

Shortly after finding myself in my very first fight of FFVIII, the command window popped up in the bottom left-hand corner as I’d expected it to.

What I had not expected, however, was the top option on the list. I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. I think the exact words that went through my brain were “What the fuck is this??” It said:

“Auto-Battle”.

Yes, the game now chooses your precise commands. You choose “Auto-Battle” and the game chooses a series of actions based on your current situation. You don’t have to choose this option; you can manually input commands. In fact, to begin with I chose to do this instead.
“I think I’ll make my own choices, thank you very much!” I stubbornly remember thinking to myself.  But quickly I realised that all this did was slow me down in the heat of a battle, and the battles seem to be designed around speed (in fact, you get reward points after each battle based on how quickly you kill the enemies). So reluctantly, I started to use Auto-Battle and resigned myself to simply button-mashing my way through the first few chapters.

Luckily, Auto-Battle almost always chose the option I would have gone with anyway. But again it was another trade-off; taking a little more freedom away from the player in exchange for a much faster-paced battle mechanic.

The initial reduced sense of freedom eventually gives way to a more overall intense battle experience which is far more challenging than in most of the predecessors. The enemies are once again on-screen as in FF12, meaning a much smoother transition between gameplay and battles. The player now controls one character as opposed to the entire party. Fallen colleagues can be resurrected as in previous games by using magic or a Phoenix Down, but if your party leader snuffs it, it’s game over.

You can control the actions of your teammates to a certain extent by using “Paradigms”, preset roles each with their own abilities which act kind of like a scaled-down version of FF12′s Gambit system. You can change paradigms mid-battle and you can expect to be doing this a hell of a lot, particularly in boss fights. Each enemy has a “chain gauge”, and your goal is to fill this as quickly as possible by delivering rapid successions of hits. Fill it and your foe becomes “staggered” making them more susceptible to damage.

Also missing is a “Limit Break” or “Overdrive” system, meaning that the characters do not possess any individual “special” attacks. Instead, abilities are now role-dependant so the only real difference between characters is that they learn abilities in a slightly different order. Instead, each character will at some point gain the use of an Eidolon (which FF9 players will tell you means a Summon spell).

Heck, the summon spells are maybe the best feature of the entire game. Choose the Summon command and you will be joined in battle by your character’s Eidolon, who will first aid you in regular battle as an NPC before a press of the Square button activates “Gestalt Mode”, in which the Eidolon transforms into a piece of devastating apparatus – Lightning’s Eidolon, Odin, for example, transforms into a horse which she then mounts, and Snow’s Eidolon is a pair of sisters who transform into a motorcycle that he can ride. Gestalt mode allows the player to input a series of commands to cut down enemies before delivering a final attack, and the animations are spectacular.

On the whole, Square took a huge gamble with many aspects of FFXIII and in my opinion, just enough of it has paid off. The battle system is innovative, action-packed and challenging and the storyline manages to hook you in even if you are having trouble fully understanding what is going on. I would have liked a little more freedom to explore the world, and there are probably a few other niggly things I’d maybe change, but for me the main flaw of FFXIII is that there were times when it did not feel like I was playing a Final Fantasy game, and that’s the biggest sin this edition is guilty of. Going forward, I think a step back to the roots of the FF series would be a breath of fresh air, possibly along the same lines as FF9. However it is still an entertaining adventure and I said earlier that I’d never been disappointed by a Final Fantasy game. That still rings true, even if I have to concede that it’s not the best one I’ve ever played. I’d give it 8/10.

Fortunately The Girlfriend likes dining out as much as I do, and over the last few weeks I’ve noticed she is clued up on food and very observant when it comes to small details that even I sometimes miss. So the other week when I took her out to dinner for our two month anniversary (how sad are we!!) I thought I’d ask for her help in writing a review of the place. So this is our first joint review. Here goes…

Italian Food Thats Worth Staying Home For

Restaurant Averna
142 Walton Road, East Molesey, Surrey

We decided on an Italian place in Molesey (the place I now call home). For a town its size,  Molesey has a fairly good selection of restaurants featuring all the staples such as Indian, Chinese and traditional British grub, as well as a French bistro called the Smoking Dog which looks somewhat out of place. But we chose this place as her Aunt, Uncle and Cousins go there regularly and it is meant to be pretty good (although judging by her uncle’s taste in hats we should not really be listening to him).

For a place which comes so highly recommended, we both expected it to be heaving on a Friday night however we were seated immediately at one of the four outside tables, however they had given us a wonky one and when the drinks came it turned into something of a balancing act. We mentioned it to the waiting staff and were told that it would be sorted out for us. The Girlfriend’s laser eyes activated and she started to pick up on things – the tablecloth was dirty, the cutlery looked like it had been used, and the ashtray was full (although neither of us smoke).

Normally, this would be enough to get me heading for the door. But we were both hungry and I was quite excited to try the food as it had such a high recommendation. Unfortunately we had to wait nearly an hour to be served, despite the fact that there were only about ten other people there. Luckily they eventually got round to fixing our table before a plate of bread with olive oil arrived. By now it was starting to get late so we decided to pass on a starter and go straight for the main courses. The Girlfriend was feeling a bit under the weather so she went for a Margherita pizza and I opted for the Seafood Risotto.

The Girlfriend had to resort to soaking her pizza in flavoured olive oil and heaps of salt and pepper, as in her opinion it was lacking in flavour or anything that resembled flavour. When I pulled her up on this, she handed me a slice which had escaped most of the oil shower and when I tasted it I could see why. The cold, sorry-looking triangle was incredibly bland and overcooked to the point where it was crunchy throughout. Normally I don’t mind a bit of crunch on the crusts but this was ridiculous. We did not think that it was possible for anybody with half a brain to fuck up a Margherita pizza that badly, let alone an Italian restaurant. After further research, we have discovered an establishment on the same row of shops that actually does a better Margherita. It’s called Tesco’s.

My seafood risotto was a little better, however it was also a bit on the cold side. The seafood in question (according to the menu, anyway) was ‘prawns, mussels, clams and squid’. They all tasted fresh, however I was a bit disappointed that there was only one prawn, which itself was buried at the bottom of the dish and was left for me to de-shell myself. This I am more than happy to do. In fact, as a nipper the landlord of my Grandad’s local used to put me to work on a Sunday morning shelling a whole bucket of prawns for 50p a pop (nothing like child labour). So I know my way around a prawn. Hehe.

The problem I had was that I did not realise this thing was lurking under there until about halfway through the dish, and while I had been frantically slashing and diving around with my cutlery looking for any trace of prawn I’d inadvertently lopped off a few tentacles. Or legs. Whatever they have. These I could have easily choked on, so I was not a happy bunny. Call me picky if you like, but what was the problem with simply placing a solitary prawn on top, like the Spanish do with Paella, or take the shells off themselves?

As for the rest of the dish, I found the tomato-based sauce lacked enough flavour to really do the ingredients justice, in fact it was only a couple of steps up from the stuff that Heinz chuck over their alphabetti spaghetti. At least the rice was cooked properly and the waiting staff were cheerful and attentive. At least one of them was anyway.

To sum up, I cannot really recommend Averna although we may simply have caught them on a bad night. But from a business point of view first impressions are what counts and there is a Pizza Express just five minutes up the road. For once I am more than happy to side with the nationwide chain rather than a family owned restaurant. To be honest alarm bells should have rung earlier on in the day when I had looked at their website, the main focus of which seemed to be the recent extension to their premises. In fact nobody even thought to put the menu or anything about the food on their website, save for a macaroni cheese recipe which is somewhat strange. It is as if they are telling you to stay at home and make macaroni cheese rather than coming out to eat at their restaurant. You can copy the link below and paste it into your browser if you want to see for yourself what I mean; I would post the link here but Dean says that every page you link to counts as a “vote” for that website or something. And Averna certaintly did not get our vote.

http://www.italian-restaurant-molesey.co.uk/index.html

Place: 3/5
Service: 1/5
Food: 2/5
Value: 3/5
OVERALL: 9/20

Last week if you read my blog post I was moaning about what to get my mum, who is a pretty difficult person to buy for. But it had not even occured to me that i should put some proper thought into what I am going to get the girlfriend as well as Christmas is just under two months away and I don’t really have a clear-cut idea of what sort of gift she will be expecting.

It will be our first Christmas together so I want to make sure I  get her something she will really like, so rather than showering her with a load of pointless Christmas Gifts I have decided to get her one big present and put all my thoughts and energies into that. Plus I might save a bit of money on the wrapping paper.

This is a paid review

So, what happened??

Well, since my last proper blog post (which I think was as far back as Wesley’s birthday), a lot has happened. I’ve met a girl, relocated to Surrey, and was recently elected as President of Zambia. Well, two of those things are true anyway.

Yes, I now have a girlfriend.

Some of you might remember a post I wrote around this time last year, where I announced I’d joined a dating site. In that post I promised that I’d keep you all updated on any developments, so if you have been waiting for that update then I apologise. There simply weren’t any developments.

That was until mid-August when I started chatting to a young lady whose profile caught my eye. So on the 20th of August I got the train down to Kingston Upon Thames to meet up with her.

The 20th of August was a Saturday. I planned to take her out for dinner then for a few drinks, and get the last train back to London. But you know what they say about the best laid plans, and that certainly rung true because I did not end up getting home until around 8pm on Tuesday evening.

So since then, I’ve been spending most of my time down in the quaint little suburb of West Molesey. I say “quaint little suburb”, actually a more accurate description of it is “chav stronghold stuck in a time warp back to the early 90′s”. But it’s got a couple of good points. It’s got 2 tescos, a subway, and it’s only 5 minutes from Hampton Court.

But enough about that. You’re probably all wondering what she’s like. Well I’ll tell you a little bit about her. Her name is Emma, she’s 20, she’s quite short (about 5’2), with brown hair and green/blue eyes, and she likes to throw ice at people. She’s sweet and incredibly cute. And we’ve got a hell of a lot in common, from the films and video games and food we like right down to tiny little details as well. For instance, if I’m walking with someone I have to be on the left. She has to be on the right.

We also both like dining out, and she is going to be helping me with future restaurant reviews, in fact we should be putting our first one up within the next week or so so look out for that.

Unfortunately she’s a Chelsea fan, but nobody’s perfect. As I’ve said to her many times before, it’s the little imperfections that make something perfect. And I know that she’s reading this so I just want to say thank you babe for putting up with me. I’m really looking forward to spending a lot more time with you from now on, particularly after the 17th of November (You know what I’m talking about). I’m a really lucky guy.