29 November 2006


A couple of Arrowroots

At the match I was sitting by myself, but in a crowd of over 74,000 people I didn't really feel that was a bad thing - I could sit back and take it all in, including the pre show entertainment of a giant black bull, a marching band, and one of those faous Welsh choirs you hear about. And then there was the distinct lack of Haka.
Now, I initially thought it was outof respect for the dead president of the Welsh Rugby Union, but then I found out after the game that it was due to some stupid argument about answering the Haka with the Welsh National Anthem. All around me were ex pats complaining they want their money back, etc etc. Which made me think if the Haka is getting to be expected and is a selling point in going to the rugby, then maybe they shouldn't do it every game! Because the last thing anyone wants is the commodification of their culture...
Anyway, on a lighter note, there was a group of NZ boys behind me, so I practised my stealth photography moves on them, the results being above.



What a softy. Really. Nice guy.

28 November 2006


Banana Loaf

Some of the more astute bakers of you may know that it is Mo-vember, and as such some of these athletic baked goods chose to compete for Facial hair glory. And here I am with the self proclaimed winner. A long time fan of his mullet, I am still unsure as to how this was documented on my camera, but I hasten to add I was rather drunk my this stage of the evening.
Now, let us just dwell on how I got to be here - there was a mammoth security force surrounding theHilton, as the Welsh love their Rugby, and love the All Blacks even more. So I pretty much has to stay in the Hotel all night, and couldn't help but talk to a few of the players. I actually ended up talking to the Ginger Crunch of the team, who was running off to a bar, but said to come chat more there (its OK bakers, I knew him from School days so it wasn't that bad). But, we got lost, and my Uncle had to come let me in the Hotel. One day I will be big enough and rich enough to let myself in to a hotel.


Melting Moment

Ah, the melting moment. A great mix of the hard and the smooth. I was only really expecting to "bump" in to the ABs around the hotel (I was staying at the Hilton with my Uncle oh yeah), but then was at the last minute taken in to a meet and greet session with them. Now, I know that the basis of this blog is to take photos, but being the youngest female there by miles and not really wanting to be shamed out I resisted the urge of taking many photos. Apart from these, just for Fflur's sake.

Now I like to have a good conversation, and to give people a chance so when I ended up talking to Andrew Hore (AKA the Seal Shooter), I thought I would give him a chance. This guy aint no baked good ladies. Not to be talked to - he basically made fun of me drinking Cider, and just generally sounded like a dick.
So my general thoughts about this team of baked goods (shall we say a baker's dozen plus a few more?!?!?)... They are all bigger than I thought they would be. Very muscley, very fit. Apparently the melting moment above is so fit, the other players call him a freak. I heard it myself on more than one occasion!

20 November 2006


First Goods for the Bakery

The first rule I set myself when thinking about baked goods is that they shouldn't know they were getting their photo taken. I've blown this already - shows how good I am at self control.

After several failed attempts at getting some baked goods, I finally have some products to put on display in the shop - let me tell you that the city of Bath, in all its World Heritage site status, also is a fine bakery to peruse. It is a shame that my candid images were mostly of cars or road, rather than something a little more interesting.

And so, to the Pub.

Not on purpose though, let it be known. I was simply looking for a place to watch the rugby, and then go home to curl up in my cozy wee single bed. After all, I had already had a late night on the Friday out in Hammersmith watching Forced Entertainment's crazily superb 'World in Pictures' which, much to my fascination, had one Richard Lowdon running around the stage for the most part naked. Although some people have written this show off to be boring, I loved it. It was bloody hilarious, from the start where the whole cast came onstage to give Jerry some encouragement for his opening piece in the show....

"Hi Jerry, I guess what I wanted to say is... just do your best"
"Hi Jerry. This is the real thing. Don't blow it" (or words to that effect).

But I digress - The Pub. After looking through the windows of all the pubs in Greenwich like a folrorn Dickensian character, the last pub I went to was also the only one playing the All Blacks game. So I got a pint of Strongbow, and was promptly told not to sit where I was going to unless I was supporting France. To which a middle aged kiwi behind me retorted "Just sit down and tell him to go fuck himself". So off to a good start then...

I sat with a Welshman (thankfully no unicorns festooned on his chest), an Australian, and two poms. They bought me drinks, I hassled them mercilessly, and they eventually drank themselves in to a stupor and left in the second half. 20 minutes later a couple of baker's assistants arrived, and encouraged some baking...


Wine Biscuit

I should have known that the only bar in Greenwich to be showing the rugby would be managed by a New Zealander. Really. No really, England was playing Soccer (ah, Football) at the same time, so it really was logical.

Fueled by alcohol, we (more one of my baking assistants actually) had good conversation with this Wine Biscuit, who I found to be a little dull, but could at times be rather tasty. Much like when you dunk said Wine Biscuit (... just to prove I didn't just choose a baked name at random here...)

The most entertaining thing about the Rugby was not that the All Blacks won (again), or even Richie McCaw (A veritable melting moment) - It was the commentary. Which was ALL. IN. WELSH.

Yes, it appears the Welsh were spying as a nation on what they will be up against next weekend, and so Seland Newydd took on Francais. As you can imagine, the translations coming from the pub were rather creative, especially the drunk welshman, who didn't actually know any welsh anyway.

As it happens, I am off to Cardiff on Thursday to watch the next match, so I was curious to hear the Welsh language anyway.



Now, the pub we were at is adjoined to a backpacker's hostel, and as such included many internationals in the revellers of the night. These two such examples are studying Art in Florence: on the left you can see an American Florentine, and on your right... ah, I forget. Some sort of European.

They met the Art Student stereotype well - long hair, and an aptitude for ironic dancing. Which was well and truly appreciated, because by this stage the bar was full of slappers.


Beer Bread

I entitle this product Beer Bread, as I really see no other way we got talking to this product other than the amount of beer he had drunk. He was also one of those rare breeds in London - a native.

You can see that the bread has been somewhat basted in a woman's sweatshirt, which some unfortunate girl had left at the bar. Now you can see that this photo had obviously been posed for, hence the rule breaking I speak of.

The other thing the more fashion aware of you will notice, is the striped shirt. This baked good was questioned about it, and replied that "it's fashionable". Hmph. But begging bakers can't be choosers, so here he is ladies. Striped shirt and all.

P.S - Please excuse the bare beer belly - purely posted for Lou and Bel. the minxes.

15 November 2006


Nearly open and baking...

The idea of this blog developed with the recalling of a quote I once heard:
(OK, I actually said it.I'll be honest here)

"There are so many hot buns in London, it's like a Bakery".

And henceforth every hot guy seen was sub-consciously thought of in terms of a baked good. So, when moving to London I unwittingly told a few people "wouldn't that be a cool premise for a blog?"... They haven't forgotten about this wee idea of mine and thus here opens The Bakery.

Here is where the problems began - just how do you take good photos of good looking guys
a) without them noticing
b) with my budget digital camera
c) Legally
d) Without coming across like some sort of slapper feminist hybrid

And it is with these things in mind I bring you a blog which, I guess, is more 'delicatessant like', if you will - a snapshot of life here, of stories... with the odd baked good when I can get a good decent "no really I'm taking a photo of the scenery" photo. And then I would hope a good discussion would ensue.

So there we go. Open for business.

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