Unforgivable.

Unfathomable.

Hopeless.

You can also call me names if you want. I also have a bunch of excuses lined up. But I don’t think there is any chance any of you would forgive me considering how I haven’t been cooking at all (except for a batch of cream puffs that I had made for a friend’s birthday) and to top it I’ve come empty-handed today. No recipe. No anecdote.

I am embarrassed to say the least.

Although you might be interested to know how I’ve settled in London, in an adorable neighbourhood lined with skateboarding teenagers, blossom trees and mothers who carry bake-trays of simnel cake to each other’s house. I’ve also settled into my job, hectic and busy as they come and Addison Lee has officially become my transportation-provider from office to home practically every night. My suitcases and trolley-bags still sit near the door looking like misfits who’re not really happy to be anywhere outside India. My room, although big and airy with enormous bay-windows, somehow has the feel of a polite but chilly butler. The only comfort is the Ikea lamp which glows at night re-assuringly. Its been with me for quite some time now and knows more than I want it to.

However, you might be more interested in how my morning ham and cheese croissant and skinny latte does a lot to cheer me up everyday. Our company chef, Paul has recently discovered my depths of  ‘foodie’ness and has made it a habit of plunging into food-oriented conversations with me every time our paths cross in the cafeteria. I grin and complement him on his spag-bol.

I have also gone Holga and have bought myself a Holga 120GN along with a carton-load of medium-format films which are currently sitting pretty in my refrigerator. So you can, from now, expect Holga and lomo pictures of my food. That is, if I somehow manage to find the time to grab my spatula and whip up something. I know, I’m in danger of sounding like a snobby Londoner who goes on about how busy she is and how you have to make an appointment to have a phone conversation with her because she’s more concerned with her new high-heels that help her clack away to glory on the concrete platform of the underground stations.

But believe me that is not the case. I solemnly swear to find time to cook, to eat, to collect stories and to write.