Scarlett Willow

A bunch of us went to St Paul’s Church in Knightsbridge on Thursday night to sing Carols by Candlelight in aid of Macmillan Cancer Research.
We merrily belted out all the old favourites, often with more vigour than was perhaps socially appropriate…

As I mentioned last week, singing is not one of J’s strong points. I, however, like to think I can hold a tune, and as we shuffled out I got all puffed up when a friend remarked that I ‘sang like canary’. J ricocheted back and burst my bubble with: ‘More like a drain, darling… a blocked drain.’ So he’d read my blog post then.

I was about to retort, when we stepped outside the church to mince pies, ginger wine and giant falling snowflakes. It was all so Richard Curtis, our tiff instantly evaporated in the cold night air. It was pure enchantment. Then our mob piled into a tiny wood-panelled pub for mulled wine, and it began to feel positively Dickensian.

It’ll be such a shame when snowy winters in London are a thing of the past (though The Mayor and the city’s fragile transport system will probably be relieved.)

Next week I’m having a Christmas drinks party at home. I’ve left it right to the last minute, but thankfully there’s still a good gaggle of people around. I was thinking of going retro with the canapés: vol-au-vents, cheese and pineapple cubes and the ultimate classic - cocktail sausages on a stick. Grilled to crispy on the outside and smothered in gooey honey mustard, the humble cocktail sausage is always a sure-fire hit (…but murder on your baking tins.)

I’ve asked my heaven-sent cleaning lady from Brazil to help out on the night. She doesn’t speak a word of English, but last year she was the talk of the party: I wanted the luxury of talking to my guests without bobbing about, so I left it to her to arrange the canapés and hand them round.

Now, the canapés must have been good, because every time I looked over at her, she was eating. I didn’t mind, only my friends kept mentioning it to me, which meant that that it snowballed into a conversation topic. I was amazed she was still chewing when we walked to the door and I paid her. She must have been ravenous! Then I realized. She was chewing gum.

It’s also our office Christmas lunch next week. There are only four of us, so we’ve scooped up other stragglers who have tiny teams, and joined forces. I’m reticent to divulge where we’re going as it’s my favourite restaurant, tiny and always packed. But as it’s the season for sharing…we’re going to Uli in Notting Hill (www.uli-oriental.co.uk)

It’s pan-Asian and my top dish there is the Mongolian lamb, shredded in a delicious sauce and served in a crisp lettuce cup. The chilli beef and the crispy duck with pancakes are two other highlights of mine. 

It’s run by Michael from Singapore. We’re on first name terms because I’ve been going there for a decade.  He’s seen me on various dates of varying success. He’s put on CD’s (probably a long forgotten ‘Now…’ compilation) and seen me dancing with friends until either tiredness or nausea set in. I needn’t say more. Like cheese and fruit on a stick, some things are better left in the past…

Scarlett Willow