7 Things About Me...

A blog tag. This time to reveal 7 facts about myself as done by We Love Peas (who tagged me). This is without doubt self-indulgent, but here goes...

1. I hate raw tomatoes. This isn't necessarily a secret, everyone who knows me well knows this. But I consider this fact to be fundamental to who I am. Raw tomatoes are the Food of Beelzebub. They make me wretch, hurl, and heave, even just the memory of them, you know, when the offending thing has been removed from a sandwich for example, and leaves it's tinged-red foulness soggying up the bread. What I love about hating tomatoes is the number of others I meet with the same aversion to this is-it-a-fruit-or-vegetable abhorrance, and the equal number who suggest my loathing comes from not having experienced a 'proper' one. A beef one for example, full of Mediterranean sunshine and joy, bursting with glory, lovingly sliced, then sprinkled with salt from a virgin's armpit and drizzled with seventeen-times pressed olive oil. Or a little cherry one? Apparently 'they're delicious'. Apparently nobody could possibly hate these scarlet balls of loveliness. I CAN. They're VILE. Cooked tomatoes, however, maybe on a pizza base, or in a vongole sauce, even sundried, I LOVE!! This is the wonderful idiosyncrasy of my hatred. Cook the little fecker and it's suddenly divine. (There's an enzyme that breaks down with heat, for anyone who's interested. It's this enzyme that spikes my vitriol. Kill it and all is well with the world).

2.  I would love to be a Blue Peter presenter. I've wanted to be one since I was seven. It looks like the best fun ever: cooking fridge cake, making Barbie a living room out of yoghurt pots and sticky-back plastic, setting fire to tinselly coat hangers, and being crapped on by baby elephants. Awesome. And you get paid for it. And when it all finishes, perhaps in drug-fuelled shame, perhaps with a job on Countrywide, you get to go on Strictly Come Dancing.

3. I played the flute for two months aged eight. I gave it up because I found the way my spit collected inside it disconcerting. I didn't tell my mum about the spit. I made up some rubbish about not liking it as much as the piano.

4. I cheat at liar dice. Using sneaky 'magic' fingers, and while people are looking elsewhere, I flip them. This gives the impression I possess the Luck of The Gods. It's wrong. But, then again, sometimes in life you gotta make your own luck...

5. I was nearly an architect. My mother is an architect and she always seemed pretty happy with it, and I loved art and being in a studio, but wasn't good enough to be an artist, so I thought 'why not?' From the first day on the course I knew why not. I'm not cool enough. You need to have a special sort of cool to be an architect, a sort of conservative kookiness, a laid back north-London chic. I possess nothing close to this. So, after a year, I changed to History of Art and I'm now a writer. You don't need to be cool when you work all alone.

6. I share my first name and  birthday, 16th February, with Amanda Holden. We are both married to a (different) Chris. We both have a daughter called Lexi. We lived in Richmond at the same time. Mr J and I spent the night of our first anniversary at the same hotel she got married in. When my friend Vic left Sheen Amanda's daughter got Vic's son's place at Monkey Music. None of this I knew until about a year ago. I am still in shock. I'm also expecting to be a judge on Britain's Got Talent by the end of the year. Simon, call me...

7. My favourite piece of art is Auguste Rodin's The Kiss. I've seen it three times in real life, and every time I've been moved to tears. Even writing about it makes me feel excited. I get a physical buzz when I touch it (I'm not sure you're supposed to, but whetevs). Carved from a chunk of marble, capturing an almost-moment (the lovers' lips never quite meet), filled with passion and longing, with the ability to move people for generations past, present and future. How clever is that?! I mean...it was a piece of blinking rock! It's said that Rodin's portrayal of women was in homage to them and their bodies, that he had no interest in depicting them submitting to men, but as fully participating partners. Its eroticism made it unsuitable for public display, so it was hidden away in a back room, only for the eyes of those given special permission. Thank goodness our social sensitivities have dulled enough to bring it out for us all to admire and enjoy. All I need to do is persuade someone to take me to Paris for my next fix...

Please feel free to comment and add a random fact about yourself...especially if it's an aversion to tomatoes.

Now I have to tag another blogger. My lovely friend Ed who has just started blogging DELICIOUS recipes. Let's see how he copes with a bit of chatting about himself... One Man and his Whisk