Food For Thought Tuesday - The Cure for Finding Yourself in Maidenhead

Thai Square, Maidenhead

So the title is misleading. I did not happen to be passing through or just be there for work or what not. I went there to see a friend, a pretty cool friend to be honest. It was completely planned, she lives there and we made the bold decision to go for dinner. I let the lady choose being the true gentleman that I am (I am trying to keep a straight face as I type this; it is hard).

 

Anyway, in a truly decisive manner that is unique to the female race she gave me a choice of two places; Italian or Thai. Thai was the only choice and the place we went is called Thai Square. I googled it to check it out, the menu looked good, the prices looked reasonable and then after a chat with the rat assassin I jumped in the car and off I went.

 

In Maidenhead I arrived, I had to wait a good twenty minutes for my friend. That was early for her but when she did arrive we walked, we talked, we laughed a little and before I knew it we were there at the Thai Square. We struggled to find the front door but between the two of us we managed to find it, for the average person it is obvious. We just have the observational skills of a bat.

 

The interior décor was simple yet sophisticated. The wooden floorboards blended with the wooden chairs that look less comfortable than they actually were. The metallic tables with wooden panelled tops underneath a white plate, wine glasses as the centre piece and cutlery on top of red napkins that matched the walls adding a hint of class to the sight that greeted us.

 

“Table for two?” the polite man asked. “Yes” came the reply and he led us through the not full but respectfully busy for a Tuesday night restaurant to the short walk to our table leaving us to peruse the menu. This was when the problems started to arise because there was just too much choice. Now I am no Thai cuisine expert but I was delightfully surprised by the menu.

 

The waiter came back to ask if we wanted drinks but we asked for more time to make our decision on what we would be eating. I know, I know that makes no sense but have you read this blog site? Ten minutes passed and I had rounded down my choice to five possibilities; it would be down to a pressurised last second decision. I splurted out Gang Kiew Wan Gai in the most embarrassing of ways, it means Thai Green Curry with 2 peppers indicating that it is spicy. I accompanied it with 4 chicken satay skewers because I am a man.

 

My friend ordered a soup, Tom Yam Goong to be precise. I was disgusted at first because I am a firm believer in making the most of eating out but I was proved wrong. When it came it was of a good size and apparently it tasted amazing.

 

The conversation turned to; “What is the worst thing you have said to a member of the opposite sex?” Out of all the hilariously awful that came out I won and I learnt that you should never ever tell a girl that she has cheese and onion breath when she is eating cheese and onion crisps. Personally I did not think it was that bad until last week. Oh well, you live and learn right.

 

Back to the food; it was as good as the company and that is a very good compliment for Thai Square, Maidenhead. The green curry had just enough spice to entertain my taste buds while the steamed rice managed the exotic flavours so that they did not overwhelm me. A beer to wash it down and a red wine for my friend as I turned my attention to the tender pea-nutted chicken. I must admit they are in my top 10 chicken satays I have ever tasted.

 

The talking continued and laughing about days of the past, the times that were present and those of the future. Then off to Wieatherspoons across the road for £1.60 which we swelled in our mouths just to taste; we are a couple of classy broads.

 

So if you ever do find yourself in Maidenhead then do we what we did. Go to Thai Square. The Cure to the World highly recommends it. Besides the parking only cost me £1.50!!

 

 

 

Marky Mark Mondays- The Fighter

The Fighter

Now this film is a knockout. Marky Mark is a knockout and not just because of those rock hard abs ladies. Don’t take my word for it either; those clever people who hand out the Academy Awards handed out two for this film. Marky Mark did not get one, which is tragic but it is another great film that Mr Wahlberg can be proud.

 

It is based on a true story. I love a film based on a true story. Personally my writing is based upon real life experiences; for me it gives all writing that sense of authenticity that makes you believe in what you read and in this case, in what you watch.

 

Marky Mark Wahlberg plays the up and coming yet struggling boxer Micky Ward who has always been overshadowed by his older boxing brother Dicky, played by Christian Bale. Dicky is not only his older brother and trainer but the local boxing legend who once upon a time made Sugar Ray Leonard fall to the floor; if only for a moment.

 

Dicky lives his life from the shine of this one moment, playing up his self-promoting lifestyle as the local hero whilst he is spiralling out of control. An unreliable drug addict that the family chose to ignore he hinders Micky’s career but as a loyal younger brother Micky puts up with it for as long as possible.

 

The volatile relationship between the two brothers threatens to take them both down; ruining Micky’s chances of boxing greatness and escalating Dicky’s demons of addiction. A brotherly bond where the older teaches the younger all he knows in the ring until the younger has to go his separate way to find himself, with a little persuasion of the love of his life Charlene Fleming played by Amy Adams.

 

Yet the distance between the brothers makes the bond between brothers stronger and when it really matters Micky remembers his older brother’s advice when it matters the most. A tale close to my own, the younger of brothers who moved away but the younger of brothers who when it really mattered the most remembered the words of my older and sometimes wiser brother.

 

It is the best boxing movie I have ever seen and for that it gets 5 out of 5 stars from thecureoftheworld.

 

Read the review for Marky Mark's Four Brothers

http://thecuretotheworld.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/marky-mark-mondays-four-brothers.html

 

 

 

 

The Curing Sunday- Blog 2

The Cure for a Broken Heart

Blog 2

So as I said in Blog 1 for the Curing Sunday blogs I shall be using this day for shameless self-promotions of my book, The Cure. The links are to the right. However as I said here http://thecuretotheworld.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/the-curing-sunday.html that I would provide insights to the plot, to the characters and to anything else relevant to the book.

However, today I will tell you about how The Cure came into being, how it came to life and how it came to be born. It started 6 years before I had any idea about writing it at all; me at 18 and all loved up moved from all I knew to build a life with the significant other a thousand miles away. All you need to know about this is that life was good and life was great; what could be better than falling in love over and over again each day?

Fast forward 6 years and the life that was so amazing went up in a blistering ball of flames; my skin felt as if it was burning as the gases within my body heated up until my insides exploded. I was a complete mess. The person I used to know no longer, replaced by a lost soul, a monster as I started to do things that I never wanted to do. I needed to get out of the rut I found myself in.

To the bottle it was; hoping that the constant blurred sight would have me waking up in the real world with all this just being some awful nightmare. So I tried Jack, I tried Jim, I tried Gin and all of their friends yet I could not drink her away. It turns out that none of these remedial source producers of life have found the cure to heart break.

My friends told me to forget but how was I supposed to do that? I do not suffer from amnesia. I did not want it to be over. The pain was so much worse when sober, tossing and turning when I reached out she was there no more. I know I had to end it that day in May, as soon as I found out that for some time she did betray; leaving me in complete dismay.

From that moment I knew I had to end it. But what happened? Where did she go? When was enough, enough? When did all our happy memories fade away? Five years building a home, weekend trips to Rome and all the more yet when did she turn so cold? When did her heart start to beat slower? Was it still beating at all? All of her plotting and scheming whilst at the same time she had me believing. I bought a ring, thought we could have everything. I never knew you could be so deceiving; she must have realised she killed us, she must have realised she was committing murder.

At 24 years old we both had so much more to do but instead overnight she became a stranger that I used to know. I could feel me start to change. I buried us symbolically, threw the ring in the sea and stood there watching the waves of the world crash down on top of me. As we met in Jamaica I thought it was best to let the ocean to take us away. I watched as it drifted away. I could not see it as it sank but still I stayed a while and watched my life drift away.

It was my goodbye to us. The old me forever gone, which is a shame because I really liked that guy. Now he is just a reflection in a glass, even a famous singer could not bring him back. I needed help, I needed a doctor, I needed a medicine but no hospital and no pharmacy had the cure for me so I had to come with my own. It was time to be grown. I started to write and write and a novel or two appeared. I had to think of a title and I did my best to find a different one but nothing seemed more appropriate than what stared me in the face.

The Cure; the death of the guy I used to be and the birth of the guy I now am.

Ps. this blog was inspired by Justin Timberlake’s new album. https://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/20-20-experience-2-2-deluxe/id672535058?affId=1930871&ign-mpt=uo%3D4

Fashion Thursday: The Cure to my 8 Year Search for Jeans

So Fashion Thursday on Anything Goes Friday. Do you see how this still works? Okay, okay I am late but it is better me being late than you. Oh how I remember saying that a fair few times before.

Anyway….

So call me fussy but it took me 8 years to find a pair of jeans I actually liked and then of course I spend a fortune in one day. Such is life. Maybe it is because I have a certain style that I change for no one. So when these fashions do change I have to wait for the next generation of me to come back round.  

At the moment it seems to be coloured jeans; red, purple and pink. What the....? I thought Levis established a rule back in the good old days. If jeans are not a shade of blue then they are not jeans. How many cowboys have you ever seen in red, purple or pink? You would look more ridiculous than Michael J Fox in Back to the Future III. If you own a pair of jeans in these colours then you do look more ridiculous than Michael J Fox in Back to the Future III. (Although, my mate does look particularly dashing in his bright reds.)

Then you have those skinny jeans; or as I call them “The Castrators”. Seriously who came up with this idea? A man hating woman who wanted to take every man’s balls in her hand and crush them. Well if so then she succeeded. I remember trying a pair on; Diesel was the brand I believe. First I pulled them over my feet; no problem there. Yet when I pulled them up they stuck to my legs as if they were drenched; it reminded me of being at school learning to swim in my pyjamas. I always loved that, swimming in water in what you wear to bed. It was comforting, the combination of two very soothing parts of life. Nowadays I call it skinny dipping.

Anyway, where was I, oh yes pulling the trousers up. As they got higher they got tighter and tighter and with one final pull I had the thought, “This is what it must be like to be in labour”. Probably not even close yet it is a pain no man should have to endure. To say I felt winded would be an understatement. To say I wanted to vomit would be the truth. I only had them on for a split second and I thought any dreams of having children one day were quickly disappearing. How do people wear these Castrators all day long?

Then there is all the choice; slim fitted, loose fitted, yield loose jeans, straight fit, straight loose fit, tapered fit, straight loose slim tapered fit and I am completely lost just typing this. So just imagine how confused I am when stood in a department store looking at all of these? Where do you even start?

If I have not tried them all then I must be close. I have looked like a gangsta rapper in the baggy or like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever with jeans looking flared when they definitely were not supposed to be flared. I have looked from the ridiculous to the sublimely ridiculous. I tried ripped jeans but I was uncomfortable showing that much leg; I am a classy type of gal you know. I have tried a lot of brands, so many brands; Ralph Lauren, G-Star Raw, Jack & Jones, Diesel, Bench and so many more.

I needed help; help is the key. Get help. Ask for help. My cure to my clueless searching was asking the right store assistant for help. I emphasise the right store assistant here; you have to filter out all the ones that just don’t care, those ones that would rather chat the day away with their colleagues and those ones that look at you as if you are ruining their day by even speaking to them. You need to find that one who is happy to help and who is happy to throw their ideas at you with enthusiastic cheer. I got help.

The girl I asked was amazing, she works in House of Fraser and she took one look at me and took me to where I needed to be. The section that is known as Replay, which was quite apt as I had been there before. She asked what I liked, I told her and then she picked out 5 pairs, all of different shades of blue before leading the way to the changing rooms, ordered me inside a cubicle and waited for the fashion show to commence.

I questioned why the sizes all differed; the waist varied from UK 32 to 36 and she said “wait and see”. I went for a larger pair and they fit perfectly. I was impressed, she acknowledged her skills with a nod. “Next” she said. I went for the 36s again and the result was the same and again came the command but I hesitated. All the others were smaller than the first 2 I had tried on and I complained that they would not fit, that they would jeopardise my manhood. But she remained strong in command; a command that I followed.

I went for the 34s first and they fit perfectly too and then the 32s and they did too. I was shocked. I asked how the hell this could be and she explained that some jeans are washed and worked with more by the manufacturers depending on their colour. Who knew? I always assumed that when they said the size on the tag that a size would be what it said on the tag.

This girl who works in House of Fraser is clearly a genius, not only teaching me about how best to wrap my bum she got me to spend a pretty sum.

 

 

What's Up with Wednesdays? The Cure for a Rat Problem

The Cure for a Rat Problem

So what would you do if you have rats running around your garden? Lay a trap, lace cheese with poison or get a cat maybe. Well, not for my mother as such reactions to a vermin problem are just not good enough; such means just do not have the necessary guts and awe to get the job done. My mother, my darling, sweet mother (she may be reading this), decided to hire a hitman. Yes a military trained assassin; a sniper.

 

This blog really does write itself. There was me on a usual Tuesday evening pulling up at my parents’ place. It looked like it was going to rain but like I said, a pretty usual evening in the UK. I walked in to the house expecting to be greeted by the normal “Hello. How are you? How was your day?” But oh no, not on this day. The house had been tidied to a state of spotless, which suggested that my mother had a visitor.

 

Something was up. The bleachy, hoovered air always makes me think something is up. I went in to the lounge expecting to be greeted by an aunt or a friend of hers. I expected to receive some sort of lecture on life and to have to pretend to listen to it whilst successfully ignoring every word. However, this was not the case. The sight that greeted me was far more terrifying than a busy body nosey parker; it was the sight of a man sitting there with a sniper rifle perched over the arm of the sofa, supported by his left hand with a cup of tea in his right as they both were having a good old chinwag about the meanings of love and life.

 

My initial reaction was of panic. “What have I done so wrong recently that has caused my own mother to put a hit out on me?” I thought to myself. Everything flashed through my mind. The list was long. I had to take a twenty minute shower to put some proper thought in to it. I came back and they still were talking about the trial and tribulations of life as the rifle held a displayed seat. I was fully sure that this was a sales pitch by the assassin to secure the job.

 

I panicked again and left to get a drink from the kitchen. I raked through my brains thinking what I could have done that was so bad to warrant this. I had no idea but I did restore some hope by concluding that whatever it was I probably have a fifty, fifty chance of successfully blaming my brother.

 

I looked out of the window and saw a van. PROKILL it read. My mother deals with no amateurs. It is not her style. None of those camouflaged, dirt painted face, up a tree, silent types of assassin for her. This guy would blend in to any household living room; a cup of tea, a bit of a gossip and a sniper rifle. You would never see him coming.

 

He explains he is not married. I am not surprised as the life of a cold blooded killer must be a lonely one. He says he has children. I ask for their names to make sure that they are completely inscribed in to my mind under the DO NOT DATE list.

 

Then it happens; movement in the suburban Everglades. A rat makes his move for the food that was strategically set for him. The sniper takes aim from the arm chair and with a pull of the trigger the furry critter is ended. His skill shattered, sprays of blood and guts splash on the shrubbery wall as his body bleeds out staining the grass.

 

The morbid death celebrated by humans yet mourned by his rodent family who all retreated to where they came. The humans waited and the rats hid. Little critters you survived another day, well done, but tomorrow the assassin will return with his gun.

Food For Thought Tuesdays

So one thing I like to use in my writing is the senses, sight, touch, sound, smell and taste, and daily pleasures can provide the perfect inspiration for this. The tenderness of a breast, the sweetness of sun kissed bliss and the warmth of a heated embrace. Yes, I am talking about food and drink; chicken, oranges and a hand snuggled mug of hot chocolate to be specific.

The regular habits of eating and drinking can tantalise your senses. That crunch of the toast in the morning as the perfectly melted cheese causes a tiny scald on your lip as your teeth bite down through the smooth dairy to the slightly charcoaled bread. The smell of coffee brightens your world as you slurp the smooth and milky latte that widens your eyes for the day ahead. You salivate at the sight of the darkened yellow cheddar before you are happy; delighted by the simple.

Food can change your mood and a drink can raise your spirits. A citrusy tang can make you squirm and a full hearty stew can send you to your dreams. You can remain safe with a home cooked meal or go on an adventure; sailing the seas for the perfect salmon or scuba diving down in search for the moreish mussels. You can experience the exotic with jerked Jamaican chicken, the culture of a Spanish Paella and the passion of an Italian meatball. You can journey the world and you can do it from your own home.

Here on this blog day, Food for Thought Tuesday, I am going to do just that. I am going to go on a journey, a journey to find the best store bought coffee, from the plain to the ridiculously long names. I will tell you about them all and I will tell you how they make me feel, how they taste and anything else that springs to mind. I will combine this with the hunt for the perfect meal; home cooked or restaurant prepared. I will tell you of the perfect place to eat, set the scene and describe the characters I find there. It is usually hilarious.

 

Yet I must make a confession. I have to be honest. Today I was supposed to be telling you all about The Classic latte; Costa’s, Starbucks’, Café Nero's and Pret a Manger’s. Only the classics for now, exotic blends will come later.

 

However, I have fallen behind schedule. Now fellow writers, how often does that happen? But it is okay, this is only the first date and for now we can just conversate. You probably feel a little self-conscious anyway. You do look beautiful in your turquoise Rossetta dress. Where did you get that from? Oasis? It makes your eyes shine like a Larimar gemstone. Have something light if it is all you want; if it makes you comfortable, if it makes you happy. We’ll take it slow, we’ll take out time. A little talking to get to know each other better. Next week, if all goes well, we can let our hair down and order a double cheeseburger and chunky chips with gallons of mayonnaise.

I am just kidding but next week, The Classic Latte.

Marky Mark Mondays - Four Brothers

So one big reason for why I started to write was because television was so bad that when I arrived home from work I found myself so bored that I cried out for some creativity. Quite literally, there were tears and everything. I therefore turned to the type written pen to save my mind from turning in to reality TV mush. Yes, I am not ashamed to say it I wrote because there was nothing better to do.

Yet having said that there are some gems on the box and in the cinema. As much as television turned me to writing cinema did prove truly inspiring. A great film, for whatever the reason you think it is great, can inspire; they have inspired me. I like a lot of genres, actors and films but for my Monday blog I had to choose just one and I chose Marky Mark.

Yes, Marky Mark. That guy who was once in New Kids on the Block. That guy better known as Mark Wahlberg. For me and my dad he has never been in a bad film. You may disagree but I don’t care. My dad agrees so that is all that matters. However, feel free to critique away too.

This is the first blog of Marky Mark Mondays and the witty title was my dad’s creation. So applaud him for that. This will last for however long I still have a Marky Mark movie to write about and I will begin with an all-time favourite of mine, Four Brothers.

Four Brothers

 

 

So this is a John Singleton action-crime movie first released on 30^th September 2005. So exactly 8 years ago to the day. I did my research. The plot is about four troublesome orphaned boys who were all taken in by a kind-hearted lady who only ever saw the good in them all.

Marky Mark stars as Booby Mercer alongside Tyrese Gibson, Andre Benjamin (aka Andre 3000) and Garret Hedlund as the leader of the four. He is as hard as nails with a comical wit yet has a soft spot for each of his brothers. Tyrese Gibson plays the smooth operating Tyrese Gibson, as always, but the script writers decided to give him the name of Angel Mercer. Andre Benjamin plays a quite remarkable role as the family and business man Jeremiah Mercer. Marky Mark is the oldest and the father figure of the Mercers and the protector, especially over the youngest brother Jack Mercer played by Garret Hedlund.

The film starts with their adoptive mother being gunned down in a grocery store and the four all return to their childhood home in Detroit to bury her and seek revenge on her killer. Defying the police and the always brilliant Terrence Howard, who plays a detective, the four brothers turn their old neighbourhood upside down to uncover the truth and the one responsible for their mother’s shooting.

This is an emotionally powerful action-packed drama with three actors who started out in the music game all putting in a master class. Yes, it may be more of a guy’s film but for me there is an underlying theme that I am not even sure John Singleton intended. There is not one hint of strangeness in the fact that the four brothers are of different race; instead there is just an acceptance that these four boys love their mum and love each other.

The four are tied by bonds thicker than blood and nothing will change that. Yes they have their problems and yes they have their doubts but when it really matters they are still brothers at the end of the day. Maybe I like it all the more because my very own brother now has four boys of his own and the message of brotherly love hit a nerve within me. Maybe it is just a great film to watch.

Nonetheless for me it gets a curetotheworld 5 star rating.

I highly recommend it. So if you have not seen it go and get it. The best part about it is that you can get it for a few pounds and if you are like me you will watch it over and over again.

Just click on this link.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Four-Brothers-DVD-Mark-Wahlberg/dp/B000CEVVHA/ref=sr_1_1?s=dvd&ie=UTF8&qid=1380485444&sr=1-1&keywords=Four+Brothers