Weekend_282012-09-22_29

guardian weekend 22.09.12

BiBiB ttttererer p ppillillThThe e trtrututh h

ababouout t drdrugug trtriaialsls

OnOnn yyerer b bikikeeStStylylisish h sttuffuff fofor r bubuddddinng g

cycyclclisi tst

JeJeJessss CCCarartntnerer-MoMorlrleyeyy

gogoeses hhell l fofor rleleata heer

JK RRowwling --the next chapter

J ggHHaarrry whho?JK RR li

The Guardian Weekend | 22 September 2012 5

STARTERS

7 Tim Dowling It’s all about me8 Your view Have your say. Plus Ask a grown-up10 Big picture Urban Exploration, by Bradley Garrett12 Lucy Mangan’s take on Kate14 Q&A Sheridan Smith, actor16 Experience I lost the power of language

FASHION

65 Weekender Helena Maria Kidacka, 23, handbag designer

66 All ages Feeling fi ne68 Wish list What we like this week69 Jess Cartner-Morley Can’t see yourself in a leather shift dress? You will… Plus get the look; the Measure70 Autumn style icons Carey Mulligan’s red carpet wardrobe73 Beauty Sali Hughes on the best anti-shine products. Plus What I see in the mirror: Charlie Higson

FOOD & DRINK

74 Hot + cold It’s culinary magic,

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall says

7

Contents22.09.12

77 Wine Fiona Beckett picks perries79 Yotam Ottolenghi Brik parcels with apple and clove. Plus vermicelli, beef and chickpea casserole81 Dan Lepard Fresh curd cheese chocolate cakes and lemon tart 83 Restaurants Marina O’Loughlin eats her words at AG Hendy & Co Home Store Kitchen in Hastings

MIND & RELATIONSHIPS

85 This column will change your life Leave whiners alone, says Oliver Burkeman. Plus What I’m really thinking: the junior doctor87 Blind date Is it love at fi rst sight?

SPACE

88 Great pretenders Seen a house style and want it now? Simple: cheat92 Budding geniuses How the RHS is bringing gardening into schools95 Alys Fowler Plants for shady spots 97 Let’s move to… Harlesden and Old Oak Common. Plus Snooping around

BACK

100 On the road Sam Wollaston tries out the Renault Twizy: no windows, but lots of new friends101 Puzzles Crossword, quiz, Scrabble102 Your pictures This week: Layers

CO

VE

R: S

PEN

CE

R M

UR

PHY.

TH

IS P

AG

E: R

OB

ER

T O

RM

ER

OD

; LO

GA

N W

AN

G; E

MIL

Y S

TE

IN; S

TE

PHE

N L

EN

TH

ALL

; CO

LIN

CA

MPB

ELL

20 Keep taking the medicine... Even though it

doesn’t work. Ben Goldacre reports on a medical scandal

32 Bill and coo Simon Hattenstone talks pigeons with Edinburgh’s doomen

42 For her next trick High drama, secrecy… Does JK Rowling’s fi rst post-

Potter novel live up to the hype? Decca Aitkenhead meets her

52 Changing gear Been bitten by the cycling bug? Here’s what you need

for autumn/winter

56 Everything I do Rock’n’roller-turned- photographer Bryan

Adams tells Emma Brockes about shooting everyone from the Queen to Mickey Rourke to Amy Winehouse

THIS PRODUCT IS MADE FROM SUSTAINABLY MANAGED FOREST AND CONTROLLED SOURCES

92

32

65

74

88 8


Someone has written a dissertation about me. It’s not about me, exactly – it’s about newspaper columnists – but a good deal of it concerns me,

probably because I agreed to be interviewed for it. When the woman who wrote it emails me a fi nal draft, I print it out immediately and read late into the night. For obvious reasons, I fi nd it fascinating. At last, I think: academic legitimacy.

I try to leave the print-out in a place where my wife will fi nd it and casually start leafi ng through it, but she’s in a spiky, pre-Sunday lunch mood. The children drift into the kitchen to peer into pots and make disappointed faces.

“I don’t know why I bother,” my wife says.

“What is that?” the youngest asks, lifting a lid.

“It’s a courgette,” I say. “I grew it. Luckily for you, I managed only one.”

“Twenty years from now,” my wife says with a world-weary air, “you’ll tell people your mother was a powerful personality…”

“A diffi cult woman,” the oldest one says.

“…a powerful personality,” my wife says, “who made you sit down to lunch every Sunday and forced you to discuss things.”

“Like exactly how we should talk

about her in the future,” the middle one says.

After lunch, I try to put the dissertation in my wife’s hands, but she’s on the phone, talking about work: she may or may not be getting on a plane the next morning. I linger by the door until she’s done.

“On or off ?” I say.“Off again . What’s that?”“A dissertation about

observational columns in British newspapers,” I say. “Like mine.”

“It has to be all about you, doesn’t it?” she says.

“It is all about me. Seriously.” Her phone rings again. I leave the

print-out on the table.Sunday’s second meal is

a collection of odds and ends tossed into a pot and tinged red with paprika. The children believe my wife invented the dish as a kind of punishment. It is known, with no great aff ection, as Spicey Ricey.

“What are those?” the youngest one asks, pointing at his plate.

“Your father put beans in it,” my wife says.

“I grew them,” I say.“Can I eat in there?” the middle

one says, pointing to the sitting room.“No,” my wife says.“Can I get down?” the youngest

one says.“No.”“What’s this?” the oldest asks,

turning over a sheaf of paper.“Someone,” my wife says,

“has written an MA dissertation about your father.”

“How can you write an MA dissertation about someone who does not have an MA?” he says.

“Just eat the beans,” the middle one says to the youngest one.

“Shut up, you dick,” the youngest one says.

“Don’t say dick,” my wife says. “I hate people saying dick.”

“Hitler didn’t have an MA,” I say.“You just said dick twice,” the

middle one says.“Can everyone please stop

swearing and eat,” my wife says. “Downton Abbey is on soon, so I’ll be…” Her phone rings. Her eyes fl y to the clock as she answers, then dart wildly around the room. I can tell it’s about work – if someone rang for any other reason this close to the start of Downton Abbey, she ’d say, “Are you mad?” and hang up.

“What’s happened?” she says into her phone, rising from the table and leaving the room. The younger two seize the opportunity to leg it. I’m left alone with the older one, who is reading while he eats. We sit in silence for a while.

“Is it true that you decided to closely emulate your predecessor, Jon Ronson?” he says.

“No comment,” I say. ILLU

STR

AT

ION

: BE

NO

IT J

AC

QU

ES

FOR

TH

E G

UA

RD

IAN

STARTERS

TimDowling

A dissertation about newspaper columnists? Sounds fascinating…

8 22 September 2012 | The Guardian Weekend

STARTERS

Your viewLetters, emails, comments

Once I decided How Much Is Enough (15 September) wasn’t a spoof , I felt sick – and then angry. People who earn £50k or more a year, feeling poor? Send them out with a social worker for a few days, to see real poverty, then ask how poor they feel. Linda Robinson Great Fencote, North Yorkshire

Rather than make me angry or sad , the piece on wealth had me laughing more than Mangan and Dowling combined . There is something about rich individuals wallowing in self-pity that makes me laugh – and grateful that I won’t be joining their sad ranks in the fo reseeable future. Sue Hawking Eastington, Gloucestershire

Interesting to see that pensioners didn’t feature . My husband and I are very happy on our modest income: about £28,000 plus savings but no mortgage. Patricia Long East Harling, Norfolk

What an interesting mix of features . The poor, who seem to number the most wealthy, and a sculptor ( Weekender Tom Maccoy ) who considers a caravan heaven on Earth. I wonder wh o’ s the most contented? Keith Adams Kenilworth , Warwickshire

It was wonderful to meet young people from all over the world through Julian Germain’s photos (Back To School, 15 September) . I found myself imagining what would happen if they could all spend time together. In my mind’s eye, I saw them giving and learning so much. Roger Catchpole Launceston, Cornwall

Julian Germain’s Back To School was the best glimpse yet of our

world’s future. Worth a shedload of economists’ predictions. Richard Devine By email

I just de-cluttered my Facebook page (Pleased To Unmeet You, 15 September) . I kept people whose status updates I can imagine myself commenting on, or who sometimes comment on mine. Those with whom I’m not friendly enough to bother interacting got removed. This meant deleting several former close friends, and keeping a surprising number of people I hardly know . David Silverman Edinburgh

How to unfriend people: if you don’t know them that well, or know them but don’t particularly like them, don’t accept their friend requests in the fi rst place. It’s a snub, yes, but a minor one compared with, say,

embarking on a relationship before casting them aside . Richard Jones Nottingham

The occupations of your blind date participants are increasingly obscure. I can hazard a guess at what a “digital agency director” does, but a “global CSR” (15 September) ? How about including some everyday occupations such as “plumber”, “gardener” or “nurse”? Paul Reade Burnley, Lancashire

There is 80-year-old Shirley Conran in What I See In The Mirror (8 September) , whose beauty routine consists exclusively of using almond cooking oil, next to your weekly demonstration of a variety of expensive make-up products we can’t do without . I know wh o I’m inspired by. Brigitte Houghton Stockport

Mr and Mrs Dowling last 20 years (15 September) ? Stone the crows! Jenny Watts Brighton

I have to disagree with Nic Stevenson’s letter (15 September) : surely the point of the letters page is to encourage people such as myself to go back and properly read last week’s articles. Andrew Rolph Bradford on Avon, Wiltshire

There is something about rich individuals wallowing in self-pity that makes me laugh

Write to Guardian Weekend, Kings Place, 90 York Way, London N1 9GU ( [email protected] ), or comment at guardian.co.uk. A full name and postal address (not for publication) must be supplied. For inclusion on Sat urday, letters should reach us by fi rst post on Tuesday, and may be edited.

Comedian Josie Long replies I don’t want to have to introduce Evie to the concept of sexism, but I think I’m going to have to. Sexism is alive and well. The whole of society is institutionally sexist. Religions have some especially crazy views about what women are allowed to do, but women in most industries encounter sexism. I get people telling me all the time that women aren’t funny. It chips away at your confi dence and it’s something my male counterparts don’t have to deal with.

For now, being pope is an old man’s game – which might seem odd because he wears a dress, and usually wearing a dress is a womanly pursuit. It’s a shame women can’t be pope, because I think many of them would want to be. Loads of women love the church and devote their lives to it. Also, from the outside, the job looks like a lot of fun. You wear ceremonial garb, you get given dinners, you get your hands kissed and there’s a lot of travel involved. I love travel.

My hope is that by the time Evie is old enough to be pope, they’ll have changed the rules and she’ll be able to do it. My advice for whatever she wants to pursue in life is to be completely and totally entitled and indignant. There is only one type of person in this world when you grow up, and that is adults. We all have diff erent abilities and capabilities, but none of those is gender.

Ask a grown-up

If you’re 10 or under, and have a question that needs answering, email [email protected] , and we’ll ask an expert for you.

WHY CAN’T THE POPE BE FEMALE?EVIE, 5


Big pictureUrban Exploration, by Bradley Garrett He may look like a kid in a hoodie, but Bradley Garrett has a degree in anthropology and history, a PhD in social and cultural geography, and is about to take up a research post at Oxford University. But away from his lofty academic work, this bespectacled American is a trespasser – “urban explorer” has a nicer ring – who infi ltrates abandoned buildings, sewers, bridges and offi ce-block rooftops, fi lming and photographing them to bring these hidden spaces to public view.

Garrett’s curiosity about what lurks above and beneath our cities has taken him, among hundreds of other places, to the drains of Las Vegas, St Sulpice church in Paris and New Court, headquarters of Rothschild Bank in London, where this shot was taken. While studying for his PhD at Royal Holloway in London , Garrett and his fellow explorers snuck into steam tunnels under campus and on to the college roof. They cut undeniably glamorous fi gures – young, good-looking, sporting combats and tattoos, kit swinging from their backpacks.

Garrett believes we aren’t drawn to off -limits built spaces the way we are in the countryside, where we happily explore mountains and woods. “We’re reacting to increased surveillance and control over urban space,” he writes. “Essentially, we’re trespassing, so in some ways what we’re doing is always illegal.” He hopes future Royal Holloway students will continue to explore its hidden nooks. Meanwhile, he is “exploring” somewhere in the world until he heads back to the UK next month to take up his research post. Oxford City Council, watch out. Hannah Booth Urban Explorers is part of the 2012 Brighton Photo Biennial , from 6 October-4 November (bpb.org.uk) .

STARTERS


STARTERS

Well, at least Pippa’s bottom is getting a rest. The advent of Kate Middleton ’s

naked breasts in our lives has pushed all memories of lesser body parts of lesser siblings aside. Have you seen the pictures? You should. I am reliably informed that they show not one but two equally-sized lumps of human fat and tissue arranged across the chest area of a 30-year-old woman who is married to a man who might, one day, become king . So long as his subjects aren’t too busy to polish the coaches and hang out the bunting required because they’re starving to death on the spinning ball of dust the planet has become. So don’t miss.

I’m very confused about the lack of support (insert own joke here) for Middleton. When the news emerged that the photos of her sunbath ing topless at a private house were to be published, I assumed that people – monarchist, republicans, male,

female, young, old… anyone, in fact, except the most open and fervent of masturbators, who would presumably be too busy to articulate their thoughts on the matter – would be united in wholehearted condemnation .

To my mind, the equation here runs roughly: person doing something personal, personally, in private + harming no one = no pictures taken and/or published. But there are deeper calculations at work. Apparently, because she signed up for a role in public life when she got married, Middleton forfeited her right to any kind of private and/or clothed one. You’d think this would require some sort

of formal relinquishment, rather than just an unwritten

bundling into the wedding vows. “No, sorry, love, it’s

not even in the small print. We just sort of assumed, y’know… Love, honour, obediently get your tits out for the nation on a slow news day, yeah?” I’d advise some sort of codicil to the marriage certifi cate if Harry ever ties the knot. It can be sealed with his own bum-stamp, of course.

There also seems to be an additional feeling that, because Middleton is part of a relatively

old-fashioned-looking partnership, and her main job

is not to run her own start-up business , but to look nice in

conservative outfi ts, smile kindly and have lovely hair in challenging climates, she has surrendered the right to be treated

with ordinary respect. I have read several articles, including ones by female writers, suggesting that because Middleton is – or they believe her to be – a subservient wife, she cannot complain when the rest of the world treats her as their chattel, too. This would be bunkum even if it were based on the fact of, rather than the perception of, her wifely deference. That it is based on the latter makes it seven diff erent types of dishonest.

A further variant of this sense of ownership exists – and was more fully expressed during the Week of Harry’s Buttocks . This says that when someone benefi ts from the Sovereign Grant, we are entitled, almost literally, to our pound of fl esh whenever and from wherever we want . Of course it doesn’t. Monarchy is absurd, yes, but until the revolution, our 70-odd pence a year each entitles us to a bit of waving, top-notch frame handbag- or gold epaulette-spo tting , and that’s it. The Middletonian mammaries are still nobody’s business but her own.

Lucy ManganWhat makes us think we’re entitled to our pound of Kate Middleton’s fl esh?

ld… anyone, inmost open andrbators, who

bly be tooe their matter – in

hensdoing nal, vate +

= no d/or

here are ns at

y, ed upc life rried, ed nd

of forrather

bundlivo

np

ctsb

anthis

old-faspartner

is not tobusiness

conservatkindly and challengingsurrendered


STARTERS

Sheridan Smith , 31, was born in Lincolnshire. As a teenager, she was a member of the National Youth Music Theatre . Last year, she won an Olivier for her performance in the stage musical Legally Blonde , and this year was awarded another for Terence Rattigan’s Flare Path . Recent fi lm credits include Hysteria , Tower Block and Quartet , directed by Dustin Hoff man. S he is in Hedda Gabler at the Old Vic in London until 10 November. When were you happiest? Whenever I’m with loved ones. What is your greatest fear? Having lost my brother Julian when I was younger, I dread the thought of those feelings again. What is your earliest memory? Singing with my parents – they’re a country and western duo and I sometimes performed with them . Which living person do you most admire and why? Dolly Parton – she worked her way up from nothing. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? I’m very insecure . What is the trait you most deplore in others? Lack of compassion. Property aside , what’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought? I bought my mum, dad and brother Damian a car each. What is your most treasured possession? My three dogs. What would your super power be? I’d like to rescue people in trouble, like Superman.What do you most dislike about your appearance? How long have you got? Who would play you in the fi lm of your life? Kathy Burke – I love her. She has the ability to make you laugh and cry.

Sheridan SmithThe worst thing anyone’s said to me? ‘No one will love you with all your fl aws’

What is your most unappealing habit? I pull my eyelashes when I’m tired or thinking – it’s a nervous thing. What would be your fancy dress costume of choice? I always go either as Dolly Parton or Dorothy from The Wizard Of Oz. What is the worst thing anyone’s said to you? “No one will love you with all your fl aws.” What is your guiltiest pleasure? Junk food. To whom would you most like to say sorry and why? Someone whose heart I broke. What does love feel like? Amazing, obviously, but you feel exposed and vulnerable too. Have you ever said ‘I love you’ and not meant it? Probably. But I never would again. If you could edit your past, what would you change? I’d bring my brother back.If you could go back in time, where would you go? To 1890, to feel how Hedda Gabler must’ve felt. What a stagey answer! How do you relax? I chill out with my dogs and watch David Attenborough documentaries. What single thing would improve the quality of your life? A family of my own, I guess, though it terrifi es me. What do you consider your greatest achievement? Hopefully being a good daughter and sister. What keeps you awake at night? Fear. What song would you like played at your funeral? “ We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz! ” How would you like to be remembered? She had a go. Rosanna Greenstreet T

HO

MA

S B

UT

LER

FO

R T

HE

GU

AR

DIA

N

QA&


STARTERS

That morning, I got the train as alway s. I was a publishing director and was looking forward to reading my newspaper, as usual.

I would always turn to the cryptic crossword, but that day it didn’t make any sense. I’d been doing it for 30-odd years, but trying to read this one was like treading through treacle: incredibly slow and hard. I thought I must be tired.

At the offi ce, I sat down, turned on my computer and found I couldn’t read the message on the screen. I said to my assistant, “This is strange, I can’t make my computer work”, and she started laughing. Although I had no idea at the time, I was speaking gibberish.

Eventually, worried colleagues contacted my wife, Beth, and she drove me straight to hospital. There, confi rmation came that I’d had a stroke in the part of my brain that deals with communication. I was now suff ering from aphasia, a condition that means it’s diffi cult or impossibe to receiv e and produc e language . When Beth asked the consultant how long it would take for me to get better, he replied, “How long is a piece of string?”

Over that fi rst day, I got progressively worse. I couldn’t understand what people were saying; I couldn’t speak intelligibly; I couldn’t read or write. A couple of nights later, I had to go to the loo and realised I couldn’t read the signs on the doors. That was the fi rst time I thought, “Christ, this is serious.” It was the only time I cried.

I was back at home a week later, and my goal was to get better and return to work in a couple of months. I started seeing a speech therapist three times a week, and was given homework to help rebuild my vocabulary and grammer.

that kept going through my mind was: damaged goods. For 25 years, I had defi ned myself as a publisher. I was used to a busy day of meetings, and bringing three manuscripts home with me each night. I enjoyed colleagues, I enjoyed working with writers and the status I’d had. I loved reading books and the sustenance of new ideas. I didn’t feel ready to say goodbye to my old self. There were times when I felt incredibly angry .

In the darkest months, I devoted myself to trying. I would spend hours writing a description of something simple like a pencil, which would run over two pages. I couldn’t manage novels or newspapers, so I tried reading poetry, and found the shorter lines less overwhelming. My speech came back, and I learned how to read again, albeit much more slowly. I also learned patience, and the ability to zone out of conversations when I couldn’t keep up. I spent more time outside, looking after our garden, and eventually got a job a couple of days a week at a nursery. I allowed myself to slow down, and started to enjoy it.

Gradually, I sloughed off my old skin. I grieved the past, its passing and its absence, and started to come to terms with it. Now, 10 years later, I look after my grandson a day a week, and my relationship with my family is deeper than ever. We have learned to be very patient with each other. If you’d asked me 15 years ago to rank the importance of the things in my life I might have said family, but in truth my all-consuming job was up there as well. I ’m no longer a high-achieving publisher or someone who reads 10 books a week. I’m a family man and gardener with aphasia, and if I read 10 books a year, that’s pretty good. Andy McKillop

I ’d look at simple pictures and try to describe them as my mind wandered round and round in the darkness, looking for words.

Apart from being incredibly tired, and sleeping for hours and hours, I felt healthy. But I was deeply confused. Sitting around the table with my wife and children, all I could hear was a babble of noise. I couldn’t separate sounds, be it a dog barking outside, music in the background or my wife talking to me. It was hugely frustrating. After a month, my own

speech became functional – “Could you pass the salt?” “Shall we go for a walk?” – but I couldn’t have a conversation. I couldn’t read the newspaper. When I sat down to my favourite television programme, The Sopranos, I couldn’t understand a thing. I felt isolated.

People at work were fantastically supportive, but as the months passed it became clear I wasn’t going to be able to go back to my old job. I still couldn’t read properly, or have a phone conversation. The phrase

ExperienceI lost the power of langua ge

JON

AT

HA

N B

IRC

H F

OR

TH

E G

UA

RD

IAN

AS

TO

LD T

O B

EC

KY

BA

RN

ICO

AT

Do you have an experience to share? Email [email protected]


The drugs don’t workThe doctors prescribing them don’t know that. Nor do their patients. The manufacturers know full well, but they’re not telling. Ben Goldacre investigates

Reboxetine is a drug I have prescribed. Other drugs had done nothing for my patient, so we wanted to try something new. I’d read the trial data before I wrote the prescription, and found only well-designed, fair tests, with overwhelmingly positive results. Reboxetine was better than a placebo, and as good as any other antidepressant in head-to-head comparisons. It’s approved for use by the Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency (the MHRA ), which governs all drugs in the UK. Millions of doses are prescribed every year, around the world. Reboxetine was clearly a safe and eff ective treatment. The patient and I discussed the evidence briefl y, and agreed it was the right treatment to try next. I signed a prescription .

But we had both been misled. In October 2010, a group of researchers w as fi nally able to bring together all the data that had ever been collected on reboxetine , both from trials that were published and from those that had never appeared in academic papers. When all this trial data was put together, it produced a shocking picture. Seven trials had been conducted comparing reboxetine against a placebo. Only one, conducted in 254 patients, had a neat, positive result, and that one was published in an

academic journal, for doctors and researchers to read. But six more trials were conducted, in almost 10 times as many patients. All of them showed that reboxetine was no better than a dummy sugar pill. None of these trials was published. I had no idea they existed.

It got worse. The trials comparing reboxetine against other drugs showed exactly the same picture: three small studies, 507 patients in total, showed that reboxetine was just as good as any other drug. They were all published. But 1,657 patients’ worth of data was left unpublished, and this unpublished data showed that patients on reboxetine did worse than those on other drugs. If all this wasn’t bad enough, there was also the side-eff ects data. The drug looked fi ne in the trials that appeared in the academic literature; but when we saw the unpublished studies, it turned out that patients were more likely to have side-eff ects, more likely to drop out of taking the drug and more likely to withdraw from the trial because of side-eff ects, if they were taking reboxetine rather than one of its competitors.

I did everything a doctor is supposed to do. I read all the papers, I critically appraised them, I understood them, I discussed them with the patient and we made a decision together, →PH

OT

OG

RA

PH: G

ET

TY

IMA

GE

S. D

IGIT

AL

MA

NIP

UL

AT

ION

: PH

IL P

AR

TR

IDG

E F

OR

GN

M IM

AG

ING


based on the evidence. In the published data, reboxetine was a safe and eff ective drug. In reality, it was no better than a sugar pill and, worse, it does more harm than good. As a doctor, I did something that, on the balance of all the evidence, harmed my patient, simply because unfl attering data was left unpublished.

Nobody broke any law in that situation, reboxetine is still on the market and the system that allowed all this to happen is still in play, for all drugs, in all countries in the world. Negative data goes missing, for all treatments, in all areas of science. The regulators and professional bodies we would reasonably expect to stamp out such practices have failed us. These problems have been protected from public scrutiny because they’re too complex to capture in a soundbite. This is why they’ve gone unfi xed by politicians, at least to some extent; but it’s also why it takes detail to explain. The people you should have been able to trust to fi x these problems have failed you, and because you have to understand a problem properly in order to fi x it , there are some things you need to know.

Drugs are tested by the people who manufacture them, in poorly designed trials, on hopelessly small numbers of weird, unrepresentative patients, and analysed using techniques that are fl awed by design, in such a way that they exaggerate the benefi ts of treatments. Unsurprisingly, these trials tend to produce results that favour the manufacturer. When trials throw up results that companies don’t like, they are perfectly entitled to hide them from doctors and patients, so we only ever see a distorted picture of any drug’s true eff ects. Regulators see most of the trial data, but only from early on in a drug’s life, and even then they don’t give this data to doctors or patients, or even to other parts of government. This distorted evidence is then communicated and applied in a distorted fashion.

In their 40 years of practice after leaving

medical school, doctors hear about what works ad hoc , from sales reps, colleagues and journals. But those colleagues can be in the pay of drug companies – often undisclosed – and the journals are, too. And so are the patient groups. And fi nally, academic papers, which everyone thinks of as objective, are often covertly planned and written by people who work directly for the companies, without disclosure. Sometimes whole academic journals are owned outright by one drug company. Aside from all this, for several of the most important and enduring problems in medicine, we have no idea what the best treatment is, because it’s not in anyone’s fi nancial interest to conduct any trials at all.

Now, on to the details.

In 2010, researchers from Harvard and Toronto found all the trials looking at fi ve major classes of drug – antidepressants, ulcer drugs and so on – then measured two key features: were they positive, and were they funded by industry? They found more than 500 trials in total: 85 % of the industry-funded studies were positive, but only 50 % of the government-funded trials were. In 2007, researchers looked at every published trial that set out to explore the benefi ts of a statin. These cholesterol-lowering drugs reduce your risk of having a heart attack and are prescribed in very large quantities. This study found 192 trials in total, either comparing one statin against another, or comparing a statin against a diff erent kind of treatment. They found that industry-funded trials were 20 times more likely to give results favouring the test drug.

These are frightening results, but they come from individual studies. So let’s consider systematic reviews into this area. In 2003, two were published . They took all the studies ever published that looked at whether industry funding is associated with pro-industry results , and both found that industry-funded trials were,

overall, about four times more likely to report positive results. A further review in 2007 looked at the new studies in the intervening four years : it found 20 more pieces of work, and all but two showed that industry-sponsored trials were more likely to report fl attering results.

It turns out that this pattern persists even when you move away from published academic papers and look instead at trial reports from academic conferences . James Fries and Eswar Krishnan, at the Stanford University School of Medicine in California, studied all the research abstracts presented at the 2001 American College of Rheumatology meetings which reported any kind of trial and acknowledged industry sponsorship, in order to fi nd out what proportion had results that favoured the sponsor’s drug.

In general, the results section of an academic paper is extensive: the raw numbers are given for each outcome, and for each possible causal factor, but not just as raw fi gures. The “ranges” are given, subgroups are explored, statistical tests conducted, and each detail is described in table form, and in shorter narrative form in the text . This lengthy process is usually spread over several pages. In Fries and Krishnan (2004), this level of detail was unnecessary. The results section is a single, simple and – I like to imagine – fairly passive-aggressive sentence:

“The results from every randomised controlled trial (45 out of 45) favoured the drug of the sponsor.”

How does this happen? How do industry-sponsored trials almost always manage to get a positive result? Sometimes trials are fl awed by design. You can compare your new drug with something you know to be rubbish – an existing drug at an inadequate dose, perhaps, or a placebo sugar pill that does almost nothing. You can choose your patients very carefully, so they are more likely to get better on your treatment. You can peek at the results halfway through, and

Drugs are tested by their manufacturers, in poorly designed trials, on hopelessly small numbers of weird, unrepresentative patients, and analysed using techniques that exaggerate the benefi ts

→


stop your trial early if they look good . But after all these methodological quirks comes one very simple insult to the integrity of the data. Sometimes, drug companies conduct lots of trials, and when they see that the results are unfl attering, they simply fail to publish them.

Because researchers are free to bury any result they please, patients are exposed to harm on a staggering scale throughout the whole of medicine . Doctors can have no idea about the true eff ects of the treatments they give. Does this drug really work best, or have I simply been deprived of half the data? No one can tell. Is this expensive drug worth the money, or ha s the data simply been massaged? No one can tell. Will this drug kill patients? Is there any evidence that it’s dangerous? No one can tell. This is a bizarre situation to arise in medicine, a discipline in which everything is supposed to be based on evidence .

And this data is withheld from everyone in medicine, from top to bottom. N ice, for example, is the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence , created by the British government to conduct careful, unbiased summaries of all the evidence on new treatments. It is unable either to identify or to access data on a drug’s eff ectiveness that’s been withheld by researchers or companies : N ice has no more legal right to that data than you or I do, even though it is making decisions about eff ectiveness, and cost-eff ectiveness, on behalf of the NHS, for millions of people.

In any sensible world, when researchers are conducting trials on a new tablet for a drug company, for example, we’d expect universal contracts, making it clear that all researchers are obliged to publish their results, and that industry sponsors – which have a huge interest in positive results – must have no control over the data. But, despite everything we know about industry-funded research being systematically biased, this does not happen. In fact, the opposite is true: it is

entirely normal for researchers and academics conducting industry-funded trials to sign contracts subjecting them

to gagging clauses that forbid them to publish, discuss or analyse data from their

trials without the permission of the funder. This is such a secretive and shameful situation

that even trying to document it in public can be a fraught business . In 2006, a paper was published in the Journal of the American Medical Association (Jama), one of the biggest medical journals in the world, describing how common it was for researchers doing industry-funded trials to have these kinds of constraints placed on their right to publish the results. The study was conducted by the Nordic Cochrane Centre and it looked at all the trials given approval to go ahead in Copenhagen and Frederiksberg. (If you’re wondering why these two cities were chosen, it was simply a matter of practicality : the researchers applied elsewhere without success, and were specifi cally refused access to data in the UK. ) These trials were overwhelmingly sponsored by the pharmaceutical industry (98 %) and the rules governing the management of the results tell a story that walks the now familiar line between frightening and absurd.

For 16 of the 44 trials, the sponsoring company got to see the data as it accumulated, and in a further 16 it had the right to stop the trial at any time, for any reason. This means that a company can see if a trial is going against it, and can interfere as it progresses, distorting the results . Even if the study was allowed to fi nish, the data could still be suppressed: there were constraints on publication rights in 40 of the 44 trials, and in half of them the contracts specifi cally stated that the sponsor either owned the data outright (what about the patients, you might say?), or needed to approve the fi nal publication, or both. None of these restrictions was mentioned in any of the published papers .

When the paper describing this situation was published in Jama, Lif, the Danish pharmaceutical industry association, responded by announcing, in the Journal of the Danish Medical Association, that it was “both shaken and enraged about the criticism, that could not be recognised”. It demanded an investigation of the scientists, though it failed to say by whom or of what. Lif then wrote to the Danish Committee on Scientifi c Dishonesty, accusing the Cochrane researchers of scientifi c misconduct. We can’t see the letter, but the researchers say the allegations were extremely serious – they were accused of deliberately distorting the data – but vague, and without documents or evidence to back them up.

Nonetheless, the investigation went on for a year . Peter Gøtzsche , director of the Cochrane Centre, told the British Medical Journal that only Lif’s third letter, 10 months into this process, made specifi c allegations that could be investigated by the committee. Two months after that, the charges were dismissed. The Cochrane researchers had done nothing wrong. But before they were cleared, Lif copied the letters alleging scientifi c dishonesty to the hospital where four of them worked, and to the management organisation running that hospital, and sent similar letters to the Danish medical association, the ministry of health, the ministry of science and so on. Gøtzsche and his colleagues felt “intimidated and harassed” by Lif’s behaviour. Lif continued to insist that the researchers were guilty of misconduct even after the investigation was completed.

Paroxetine is a commonly used antidepressant, from the class of drugs known as selective

serotonin reuptake inhibitors or SSRIs. It’s also a good example of how companies have exploited our long-standing permissiveness about missing trials, and found loopholes in

our inadequate regulations on trial disclosure. To understand why, we fi rst need to go →

p your trial early if they look good . Butr all these methodological quirks comes very simple insult to the integrity

he data. Sometimes, drugmpanies conduct lots of trials, and en they see that the results are flattering, they simply fail to publish them. ecause researchers are free to bury any

ult they please, patients are exposed to harm

entirely normal foracademics condutrials to sign con

to gagging clausepublish, discuss or

trials without the permissThis is such a secretive a

that even trying to documa fraught business . In 200


through a quirk of the licensing process. Drugs do not simply come on to the market for use in all medical conditions: for any specifi c use of any drug, in any specifi c disease, you need a separate marketing authorisation. So a drug might be licensed to treat ovarian cancer, for example, but not breast cancer. That doesn’t mean the drug doesn’t work in breast cancer. There might well be some evidence that it’s great for treating that disease, too, but maybe the company hasn’t gone to the trouble and expense of getting a formal marketing authorisation for that specifi c use. Doctors can still go ahead and prescribe it for breast cancer, if they want, because the drug is available for prescription, it probably works, and there are boxes of it sitting in pharmacies waiting to go out . In this situation, the doctor will be prescribing the drug legally, but “off -label”.

Now, it turns out that the use of a drug in children is treated as a separate marketing authorisation from its use in adults. This makes sense in many cases, because children can respond to drugs in very diff erent ways and so research needs to be done in children separately. But getting a licence for a specifi c use is an arduous business, requiring lots of paperwork and some specifi c studies. Often, this will be so expensive that companies will not bother to get a licence specifi cally to market a drug for use in children, because that market is usually much smaller.

So it is not unusual for a drug to be licensed for use in adults but then prescribed for children . Regulators have recognised that this is a problem, so recently they have started to off er incentives for companies to conduct more research and formally seek these licences.

When Glaxo SmithKline applied for a marketing authorisation in children for paroxetine, an extraordinary situation came to light, triggering the longest investigation in the history of UK drugs regulation. Between 1994 and 2002, GSK

conducted nine trials of paroxetine in children. The fi rst two failed to show any benefi t, but the company made no attempt to inform anyone of this by changing the “drug label” that is sent to all doctors and patients. In fact, after these trials were completed, an internal company management document stated: “It would be commercially unacceptable to include a statement that effi cacy had not been demonstrated, as this would undermine the profi le of paroxetine.” In the year after this secret internal memo, 32,000 prescriptions were issued to children for paroxetine in the UK alone: so, while the company knew the drug didn’t work in children, it was in no hurry to tell doctors that, despite knowing that large numbers of children were taking it. More trials were conducted over the coming years – nine in total – and none showed that the drug was eff ective at treating depression in children.

It gets much worse than that. These children weren’t simply receiving a drug that the company knew to be ineff ective for them; they were also being exposed to side-eff ects. This should be self-evident, since any eff ective treatment will have some side-eff ects, and doctors factor this in, alongside the benefi ts (which in this case were non existent). But nobody knew how bad these side-eff ects were, because the company didn’t tell doctors, or patients, or even the regulator about the worrying safety data from its trials. This was because of a loophole: you have to tell the regulator only about side-eff ects reported in studies looking at the specifi c uses for which the drug has a marketing authorisation. Because the use of paroxetine in children was “off -label”, GSK had no legal obligation to tell anyone about what it had found.

People had worried for a long time that paroxetine might increase the risk of suicide, though that is quite a diffi cult side-eff ect to detect in an antidepressant . In February 2003,

GSK spontaneously sent the MHRA a package of information on the risk of suicide on paroxetine, containing some analyses done in 2002 from adverse-event data in trials the company had held, going back a decade. This analysis showed that there was no increased risk of suicide. But it was misleading: although it was unclear at the time, data from trials in children had been mixed in with data from trials in adults, which had vastly greater numbers of participants. As a result, any sign of increased suicide risk among children on paroxetine had been completely diluted away.

Later in 2003, GSK had a meeting with the MHRA to discuss another issue involving paroxetine. At the end of this meeting, the GSK representatives gave out a briefi ng document, explaining that the company was planning to apply later that year for a specifi c marketing authorisation to use paroxetine in children. They mentioned, while handing out the document, that the MHRA might wish to bear in mind a safety concern the company had noted: an increased risk of suicide among children with depression who received paroxetine, compared with those on dummy placebo pills.

This was vitally important side-eff ect data, being presented, after an astonishing delay, casually, through an entirely inappropriate and unoffi cial channel. Although the data was given to completely the wrong team, the MHRA staff present at this meeting had the wit to spot that this was an important new problem. A fl urry of activity followed: analyses were done, and within one month a letter was sent to all doctors advising them not to prescribe paroxetine to patients under the age of 18.

How is it possible that our systems for getting data from companies are so poo r, they can simply withhold vitally important information showing that a drug is not only ineff ective, but actively dangerous? Because the regulations contain

Does this drug really work or will it kill? Is there any evidence that it’s dangerous? No one can tell… Because researchers are free to bury any result they please, patients are exposed to harm on a staggering scale

→


ridiculous loopholes, and it’s dismal to see how GSK cheerfully exploited them: when the investigation was published in 2008, it concluded that what the company had done – withholding important data about safety and eff ectiveness that doctors and patients clearly needed to see – was plainly unethical, and put children around the world at risk; but our laws are so weak that GSK could not be charged with any crime.

After this episode, the MHRA and EU changed some of their regulations, though not adequately. They created an obligation for companies to hand over safety data for uses of a drug outside its marketing authorisation; but ridiculously, for example, trials conducted outside the EU were still exempt. Some of the trials GSK conducted were published in part, but that is obviously not enough: we already know that if we see only a biased sample of the data, we are misled. But we also need all the data for the more simple reason that we need lots of data: safety signals are often weak, subtle and diffi cult to detect. In the case of paroxetine, the dangers became apparent only when the adverse events from all of the trials were pooled and analysed together.

That leads us to the second obvious fl aw in the current system: the results of these trials are given in secret to the regulator, which then sits and quietly makes a decision. This is the opposite of science, which is reliable only because everyone shows their working, explains how they know that something is eff ective or safe, shares their methods and results, and allows others to decide if they agree with the way in which the data was processed and analysed . Yet for the safety and effi cacy of drugs, we allow it to happen behind closed doors, because drug companies have decided that they want to share their trial results discretely with the regulators. So the most important job in evidence-based medicine is carried out alone and in secret. And regulators are not infallible, as we shall see.

Rosiglitazone was fi rst marketed in 1999 . In that fi rst year, Dr John Buse from the University of North Carolina discussed an increased risk of heart problems at a pair of academic meetings. The drug’s manufacturer, GSK, made direct contact in an attempt to silence him, then moved on to his head of department. Buse felt pressured to sign various legal documents. To cut a long story short, after wading through documents for several months, in 2007 the US Senate committee on fi nance released a report describing the treatment of Buse as “intimidation”.

But we are more concerned with the safety and effi cacy data. In 2003 the Uppsala drug monitoring group of the World Health Organisation contacted GSK about an unusually large number of spontaneous reports associating rosiglitazone with heart problems. GSK conducted two internal meta-analyses of its own data on this, in 2005 and 2006. These showed that the risk was real, but although both GSK and the FDA had these results, neither made any public statement about them, and they were not published until 2008.

During this delay, vast numbers of patients were exposed to the drug, but doctors and patients learned about this serious problem only in 2007, when cardiologist Professor Steve Nissen and colleagues published a landmark meta-analysis. This showed a 43 % increase in the risk of heart problems in patients on rosiglitazone. Since people with diabetes are already at increased risk of heart problems, and the whole point of treating diabetes is to reduce this risk, that fi nding was big potatoes. Nissen’s fi ndings were confi rmed in later work, and in 2010 the drug was either taken off the market or restricted, all around the world.

Now, my argument is not that this drug should have been banned sooner because, as perverse as it sounds, doctors do often need inferior drugs for use as a last resort. For example, a patient may develop idiosyncratic side-eff ects on the most

eff ective pills and be unable to take them any longer. Once this has happened, it may be worth trying a less eff ective drug if it is at least better than nothing.

The concern is that these discussions happened with the data locked behind closed doors, visible only to regulators. In fact, Nissen’s analysis could only be done at all because of a very unusual court judg ment. In 2004, when GSK was caught out withholding data showing evidence of serious side-eff ects from paroxetine in children, their bad behaviour resulted in a US court case over allegations of fraud, the settlement of which, alongside a signifi cant payout, required GSK to commit to posting clinical trial results on a public website.

Nissen used the rosiglitazone data, when it became available, and found worrying signs of harm, which they then published to doctors – something the regulators had never done, despite having the information years earlier. If this information had all been freely available from the start, regulators might have felt a little more anxious about their decisions but, crucially, doctors and patients could have disagreed with them and made informed choices. This is why we need wider access to all trial reports, for all medicines .

Missing data poisons the well for everybody. If proper trials are never done, if trials with negative results are withheld, then we simply cannot know the true eff ects of the treatments we use. Evidence in medicine is not an abstract academic preoccupation. When we are fed bad data, we make the wrong decisions, infl icting unnecessary pain and suff ering, and death, on people just like us •This is an edited extract from Bad Pharma, by Ben Goldacre, published next week by Fourth Estate at £13.99. To order a copy for £11.19, including UK mainland p&p, call 0330 333 6846, or go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop .

While the company knew the drug didn’t work in children, it was in no hurry to tell doctors that. Worse, nobody knew how bad the side-eff ects were because it didn’t reveal its worrying safety data


Fancy a fl utter?In rougher parts of Edinburgh, where drugs and gangs are rife, an unlikely passion is thriving. Simon Hattenstone meets the pigeon-fancying doomen and the photographer Robert Ormerod, who is documenting their lives

Dooman Paul Smith lost his love of fl ying pigeons after his son was stabbed to death six years ago, but it has now returned. Sinead Wilson (far left) is one of the few doowomen and girls


“It’s the buzz,” Paul Smith says. “When you capture somebody else’s bird, you get a buzz . That’s the whole point.” Smith is a dooman. “Doo” is a Scottish word for male pigeon, and doomen keep pigeons.

But that’s only the half of it. Doomen also keep other people’s pigeons. The pigeons are a special type, known as horseman thief pouters. They look quite diff erent from your average feral pigeon – prettier, prouder, more erect, as if standing to attention at a passing-out parade. They are often bleached peroxide-blond and puff their chests out like Orson Welles in his heyday.

Male and female pouters are hot, and they know it – they attract other pouters back to their hut , and that’s where the doomen come in. As

soon as their pigeon lands on the roof with its prospective new partner, the dooman whips down the net and bags the bird. The bird is then legitimately theirs and is often sold on. It’s kidnapping as competition. Traditional pigeon fanciers often regard doomen as pirates.

Flying doos is a working-class sport in Scotland. Smith lives in Muirhouse, a part of Edinburgh far removed from the cosy intellectualism of the festival. Doomen tend to live tough, hard-drinking, sometimes lawless lives. While fl ying doos does not necessarily keep them on the straight and narrow, it does keep them on a path that is a bit straighter and narrower than it might have been.

It’s 9am on a hot Sunday in August, and

Smith is hungover. He’s looking towards the sky and it’s hurting his eyes. He was on the beer last night, he says, as he pours us coff ee.

“My earliest memory is of my grand ad fl ying them 40 years ago. He and my dad used to take me to the wee pet shop, and the guy used to wear a long white coat, like a doctor. Back then, you could buy pigeons for 50p. That’s how I got hooked.” The most he’s paid for a pigeon is £75.

Smith says human skill plays a part in his sport, but most of it is down to the bird. “There are birds who will catch a hen when they meet it, nae trouble, and there are other birds I’ve had for fi ve years who have never caught a single pigeon.”

He opens the hut and shows me his favourite , a Dutch bird he calls the Tillinator – plump and

Everything about doomen is fascinating, photographer Robert Ormerod says – the passion, the lifestyle, the battles, the birds

→


primped. He takes a hen out of her cage and holds it out towards the Tillinator, to demonstrate his reaction. “They blow themselves up to try to make themselves the Don Juan of the pigeon world.” Sure enough, the Tillinator’s chest becomes even more plumped. The birds are kept from mating for as long as possible before being released in order to “build up steam”.

“That’s the one they’re all trying to catch, but naebody can catch him. When he gets a hen, he’s so sharp, so quick.” How many birds has the Tillinator caught? “About 25.” How long has he had him? “Five years.”

You need to be patient in the doo business. Smith says he’s out there fl ying two to three hours a night, maybe all day at the weekend, and sometimes he can go weeks without a sniff of

a pigeon. There are few doowomen or girls. It has always been regarded as a man’s sport, and every man has a story about the domestic strife the birds have caused. Smith says his grandmother used to throw pigeons out of the window when his grand ad kept them in the house. Nowadays, Smith’s own wife tells him he cares more for his pigeons than he does for her. Is it true? “Probably 50%. The pigeons never give me grief !” He laughs. “If it’s a nice day , are you going to sit in there, or stand outside, fl y your birds and get a tan?”

Smith talks about his relationship with fellow doomen – they can be friendly, but there is always an intense rivalry. Do they ever congratulate each other when a rival has lured away a good bird?

“Pff f! Never heard of that yet. Never.” Six years ago, Smith’s teenage son Kevin was

murdered – stabbed by three young men after they stole his scooter. When Kevin died, Smith lost interest in his pigeons. “I couldn’t feed them – my brother came down and fed them for me. I couldn’t do anything. It takes time, and it never goes away.” Now at least, he says, his love of fl ying has returned. All those hours outside with the birds is thinking time.

Robert Ormerod started taking photographs of doomen more than a year ago. Everything about them is fascinating, he says – the passion, the lifestyle, the battles, the birds themselves. Many doomen live unpredictable lives and are hard to track down – they might agree to a photograph one day and not want to know you the next. Ormerod is driving us to the Niddrie estate, which became infamous for gangs and knife crime,

Fellow doomen can be friendly, but there is always an intense rivalry. Do they ever congratulate each other when a rival has lured away a good bird? Never

→


and has now been largely demolished. We are here to speak to two b oys he has photographed – one 18-year-old who already has two children, and his younger brother, who’s nine. Ormerod warns about their two huge dogs, which can be intimidating.

As we arrive at the estate, a football smashes into the boot of the car . Only the nine-year-old is h ome, but he doesn’t want to talk to us today and we are sent packing. Another young man says he will talk only for money. So we drive to the south of Edinburgh, to meet 56-year-old Iain Wilson and his daughter, Sinead. It’s 11am and he off ers me a beer. Wilson is a plumber and runs one of the two shops operating out of Edinburgh where doomen trade pigeons. Flying doos, he says, is an addiction. “I caught a curse. It’s like smoking. You cannae give them up.”

Which is more dangerous? “The same degree,” he says. The pigeons produce dust that is easily inhaled. “I’ve had part of one of my lungs removed because of dust-related injuries.”

His obsession with the birds dates back to his boyhood. “My mother and father had nae love of animals at all, so, much to their annoyance, I used to bring injured pigeons home.”

How did they react? “They looked at it as a hobby and were relieved I wasn’t going about the streets throwing stones at windows.” Does he think he ’d have got into trouble otherwise? “Probably, aye. I had good friends, not hardened criminals; we’d just do a wee bit of shoplifting now and then.”

Why was he so taken with pigeons? “I was fascinated by something that could fl y that comes back to you. You get an affi nity with them.

Certainly with the horseman. I used to have a pigeon that followed me all the way to the pub.”

He feeds them only the best food, he says. “Sinead, show Simon.” Sinead returns with a bucket of food that could pass for nibbles at an upmarket party. “Sunfl ower seeds, barley, maize, maple peas, wheat, barley – I used to eat it when I was waiting for the racing pigeons. So they get the best grub; no rubbish.”

As he talks, he keeps an eye on the sky and catches sight of a hen coming in to land. “Bop. Bohop bhop. Ooop. Cooo ,” he warbles gently.

Can you be a good dooman without talking to the pigeons? “No, you’ve got to talk the language. You’ve got tae have some affi nity with the birds. Good pigeons respond.”

These days it’s Sinead who plays Florence

‘ You want your children to have some sort of thing, because there’s absolutely nothing for children to do here,’ says Iain Wilson (top, left)

→


Nightingale to hurt birds. “If my mates fi nd an injured pigeon, they’ll always bring it to me because I cannae turn it away,” she says. “They wouldnae take it to my dad, though, because he’d kill it. He’s only interested in pigeons who work.”

“I’ll be perfectly honest with you,” Wilson says. “I’m brutal with killing pigeons. If pigeons dinnae perform for you, you’ve got to kill them. Either that or you’d have thousands. I either pull their neck or tap them on the back of the head.”

He hopes that if Sinead becomes a fully-fl edged doogirl, it will keep her out of trouble. “Well, it doesn’t matter if it’s pigeons or whatever – you want your children to have some sort of thing, because there’s absolutely nothing for children to do here. It is quite a drugs-dominated place , a lot of coke. Very high unemployment. Everybody

that fl ies in this scheme beyond me and my son dinnae work.” He pauses. Mind you, he says, you can get into plenty of trouble fl ying doos. Sinead smiles knowingly and says nothing. “In the old days, there’d be murder,” Wilson continues. “Huts burnt down. Glasgow was the worst. You strive for years to get good pigeons, then if someone comes into your hut and steals them, it makes your blood boil. Once you get a good pigeon, everybody knows about it.”

Has he ever got into trouble over the birds? “Touch wood I’ve never had that scenario, because I think people know, were that to happen, there’d be repercussions . The majority in the scheme are frightened of me.” Physically frightened? “Aye.” Because he’s tough? “I don’t know whether I’m tough now, but I used to be . I’m getting a bit old .

I’ve hung up my gun belt. I mostly keep the peace. My son, he’s a hot-headed one.”

It’s funny, Wilson says, sometimes he wonders why he still dedicates so much of his life to the birds – there’s his lungs, the time, the money. “The worst thing is that it brings out emotions that it shouldn’t bring out.” Such as? “Anger. There are times you want to kick people around the street. I think it triggers off emotions that you wouldn’t normally have in every day life. Extreme emotions, aye. I could be sitting in the pub having a laugh. Instead, I’m standing in this garden going off my head at the pigeons.”

So why does he keep doo-fl ying? “Pure addiction. Aye, it ruins your life.” Then he sees a pigeon coming in, smiles with relief, and welcomes it home with a warble •

‘I caught a curse. It’s like smoking. You cannae give them up’

‘The worst that can

happen is that everyone

says, “That’s shockingly

bad – back to wizards with you” ’

Harry Potter sold millions and made her into one of the richest women in the world. Now JK Rowling has written her fi rst book for grown-ups. But is the magic still there? Interview by Decca Aitkenhead

Portraits by Spencer Murphy


J

K Rowling ’s new novel arrives with the high drama and state secrecy of a royal birth. Its due date is announced in February, and in April the disclosure of its title, The Casual Vacancy, makes international news. The release of the cover image in July commands headlines again, and Fleet Street commissions a “design guru” to deconstruct its inscrutable aesthetic, in search of clues as to what might lie within. Waterstones predicts the novel will be “the bestselling fi ction title this year ”. Literary critics begin to publish preliminary reviews, revealing what they think they will think about a book they have not yet even read.

I am required to sign more legal documents than would typically be involved in buying a house before I am allowed to read The Casual Vacancy, under tight security in the London offi ces of Little, Brown. Even the publishers have been forbidden to read it, and they relinquish the manuscript gingerly, reverently, as though handling a priceless Ming vase. Afterwards, I am instructed never to disclose the address of Rowling’s Edinburgh offi ce where the interview will take place. The mere fact of the interview is deemed so newsworthy that Le Monde dispatches a reporter to investigate how it was secured. Its prospect begins to assume the mystique of an audience with Her Majesty – except, of course, that Rowling is famously much, much richer than the Queen.

In the 15 years since she published her fi rst Harry Potter, Rowling has become both universally known and almost unrecognisable. The scruff y redhead who used to write in the cafes of Leith has slowly transformed into a glossy couture blonde, unknowable behind an impregnable sheen of wealth and control. Once a penniless single mother, she became the fi rst person on earth to make $1bn by writing

books, but her rare public appearances suggested a faint ice maiden quality, less Cinderella than Snow Queen. Sometimes she didn’t appear to be enjoying the fairytale at all, complaining to Leveson of having had to hire privacy lawyers on more than 50 occasions , and suing a fan for writing an encyclop edia of Potter facts. The press began to hint at a coldly grandiose recluse.

Famous people who appear incredibly controlling are generally one of two things: monstrous megalomaniacs, or unusually sane souls insulating themselves from insane circumstances. There is seldom much middle ground, and I fi nd out where Rowling belongs when her publicist calls an hour before we’re due to meet. I fear the worst. Is there going to be some ludicrous last-minute cloak-and-dagger demand?

No, it’s just that Rowling has been stuck in her offi ce for ages and fancies a change of scene. Could we meet round the corner instead? I fi nd them in the lobby of a modest hotel . Surely we’re not going to talk here, in earshot of every passing guest ?

But Rowling is completely relaxed about this arrangement. Warm and animated, quick to laugh, she chatters so freely that her publicist gets jumpy and tells her to lower her voice. “Am I speaking too loud?” She doesn’t look a bit concerned. “Well, I can’t get passionate and whisper!” When I tell her I loved the book, her arms shoot up in celebration. “Oh my God! I’m so happy! That’s so amazing to hear . Thank you so much! You’ve made me incredibly happy. Oh my God!” Anyone listening would take her for a debut author, meeting her fi rst ever fan.

In a way, that’s what she is. Rowling has written seven Harry Potter books, and sold more than 450 m copies , but her fi rst novel for adults is unlike them in every respect – unless you count the location where the concept came →


‘ You don’t expect the kind of problems wealth brings with it. You don’t expect the pressure of it’

to her. “Obviously I need to be in some form of vehicle to have a decent idea,” she laughs . Having dream ed up Potter on a train, “This time I was on a plane. And I thought: local election! And I just knew. I had that totally physical response you get to an idea that you know will work . It’s a rush of adrenaline, it’s chemical. I had it with Harry Potter and I had it with this. So that’s how I know.”

The story opens with the death of a parish councillor in the pretty West Country village of Pagford. Barry had grown up on a nearby council estate, the Fields, a squalid rural ghetto with which the more pious middle classes of Pagford have long lost patience. If they can fi ll his seat with one more councillor sympathetic to their disgust, they’ll secure a majority vote to reassign responsibility for the Fields to a neighbouring council, and be rid of the wretched place for good.

The pompous chairman assumes the seat will go to his son, a solicitor . Pitted against him are a bitterly cold GP and a deputy headmaster crippled by irreconcilable ambivalence towards his son, an unnervingly self-possessed adolescent whose subversion takes the unusual but highly eff ective form of telling the truth. His preoccupation with “authenticity” develops into a fascination with the Fields and its most notorious family, the Weedons.

Terri Weedon is a prostitute, junkie and lifelong casualty of chilling abuse, struggling to stay clean to stop social services taking her three-year-old son, Robbie, into care. But methadone is a precarious substitute for heroin, and most of what passes for mothering falls to her teenage daughter, Krystal. Spirited and volatile, Krystal has known only one adult ally in her life – Barry – and his sudden death casts her dangerously adrift. When anonymous messages begin appearing on the parish council

website, exposing villagers’ secrets, Pagford unravels into a panic of paranoia, rage and tragedy.

Pagford will be appallingly recognisable to anyone who has ever lived in a West Country village, but its clever comedy can also be read as a parable about national politics . “I’m interested in that drive, that rush to judg ment, that is so prevalent in our society,” Rowling says. “We all know that pleasurable rush that comes from condemning, and in the short term it’s quite a satisfying thing to do, isn’t it?” But it requires obliviousness to the horrors suff ered by a family such as the Weedons, and the book satirises the ignorance of elites who assume to know what’s best for everyone else.

“How many of us are able to expand our minds beyond our own personal experience? So many people, certainly people who sit around the cabinet table, say, ‘Well, it worked for me’ or, ‘This is how my father managed it’ – these trite catchphrases – and the idea that other people might have had such a diff erent life experience that their choices and beliefs and behaviours would be completely diff erent from your own seems to escape a lot of otherwise intelligent people. The poor are discussed as this homogeneous mash, like porridge. The idea that they might be individuals, and be where they are for very diff erent , diverse reasons, again seems to escape some people.

“They talk about feckless teenage mothers looking for a council fl at. Well, how tragic is it that that’s what someone regards as the height of security or safety? What would your life be like if that’s the only possible path you can see for yourself? But I don’t know if that’s a question some people ask themselves. There has been a horribly familiar change of atmosphere [since the 2010 election], it feels to me a lot like it did in the early 90s, where there’s been a bit of redistribution of benefi ts and suddenly lone-parent families

are that little bit worse off . But it’s not a ‘little bit’ when you’re in that situation. Even a tenner a week can make such a vast, vast diff erence. So, yeah, it does feel familiar. Though I started writing this fi ve years ago when we didn’t have a coalition government, so it’s become maybe more relevant as I’ve written.”

Like so many British novels, The Casual Vacancy is inescapably about class. “We’re a phenomenally snobby society,” Rowling nods, “and it’s such a rich seam. The middle class is so funny, it’s the class I know best, and it’s the class where you fi nd the most pretension, so that’s what makes the middle classes so funny.” The book is so funny I was halfway through before noticing that every character is, to a varying degree, monstrous.

Written from multiple perspectives, the novel invites the reader into their heads , where internal logic helps make sense of what can look, from the outside, inexcusable. But Rowling waits a long time before leading us inside the Weedons’ minds, to reveal unspeakable traumas. The delay serves to amplify the shock , but runs the risk of showing only their dysfunction for so long that the reader might start to laugh at them. “I was aware that a reader might think I was laughing at Krystal. And I’m not. At all. Not for a second,” Suddenly she is intently serious. “One person who has read it said he found it very funny when Krystal told Robbie to eat his crisps before his Rolos. Well, I wasn’t making a joke. At all. To me, that was quite a bleak moment. To me, it’s heartbreaking. To me, that makes me want to cry.

“So I suppose you can never know. But then,” and she starts to smile, “in some people’s eyes, Harry Potter was a book of the occult and devil worship, so I do know that you can’t legislate for what readers will fi nd .”

Someone else told Rowling they felt sorry for her daughter’s friends, assuming they were the

JK Rowling with her husband, Neil Murray,

in 2007. And in 2000, launching

Harry Potter And The Goblet

Of Fire, the fourth book in the series that

changed her life

→GE

TT

Y IM

AG

ES;

RE

X


inspiration for The Casual Vacancy’s teenagers. “But I haven’t laid them bare, I’ve laid my friends bare.” Rowling grew up near the Forest of Dean in a community not unlike Pagford . “And this was very much me vividly remembering what it was like to be a teenager, and it wasn’t a particularly happy time in my life. In fact, you couldn’t give me anything to make me go back to being a teenager. Never. No, I hated it.”

Her mother, a school lab technician, was diagnosed with MS when Rowling was 15. “But it wasn’t just that – although that did colour it a lot. I just don’t think I was very good at being young.” She and her younger sister, Dianne, had a diffi cult relationship with their father, and Rowling “couldn’t wait to get out of there”; she studied French and classics at Exeter University, went to work for Amnesty in London, lost her mother at 25 and moved abroad to teach English, returning at 28 with a six-month-old daughter, Jessica, following a short and catastrophic marriage to a Portuguese journalist. Broke, clinically depressed and suicidal, she moved to Edinburgh to be near her sister and survived on benefi ts while writing the fi rst Harry Potter. After many rejections, the manuscript was bought by Bloomsbury for £2,500. Her editor advised Rowling to get a teaching job, the likelihood of her earning a living from children’s books being, in his view, decidedly remote.

A 2007 documentary shows her 10 years later, soaring into a stratosphere of unimaginable wealth and fame. Watching it now, what’s striking is the discrepancy between the happily- ever- after fi nale of her rags-to-riches miracle and the unhappiness etched upon her face. There is a hunted expression in her eyes, a wary tension in her features and a slightly brittle chippiness in her comments. None of this is discernible today, so I ask if it took time for the emotional DNA of unhappy early years to mutate and catch up with her new life.

“Well, it has now. But there was a defi nite lag. For a few years I did feel I was on a psychic treadmill, trying to keep up with where I was. Everything changed so rapidly, so strangely. I knew no one who’d ever been in the public eye. I didn’t know anyone – anyone – to whom I could turn and say, ‘ What do you do?’ So it was incredibly disorient ing.”

She’d had therapy when at “rock bottom” while writing the fi rst Potter. “And I had to do it again when my life was changing so suddenly – and it really helped. I’m a big fan of it, it helped me a lot.” Her other salvation came with her second husband, Neil Murray, a doctor she married in 2001 and with whom she has a son of nine and a daughter aged seven. “When I met Neil, it felt as if he stepped inside everything with me. He changed my life. But, prior to that, to be alone with it all, with a small child, was …” She searches for the word, and opts for understatement. “Diffi cult.”

Sudden wealth was not a straightforward joy. “You don’t expect the kind of problems it brings with it. I am so grateful for what happened that this should not be taken in any way as a whine , but you don’t expect the pressure of it, in the sense of being bombarded by requests. I felt that I had to solve everyone’s problems . I was hit by this tsunami of demands . I felt overwhelmed. And I was really worried that I would mess up.”

Having always longed to be a writer, she now found herself in charge of a business empire stretching all the way to Hollywood, as the Harry Potter fi lms began smashing box offi ce records. “And it’s a real bore. Should I be more diplomatic? Oh, I don’t care. No, there is literally nothing on the business side that I wouldn’t sacrifi ce in a heartbeat to have an extra couple of hours’ writing. Nothing. That sounds hideously ungrateful because it’s made me an awful lot of money, and I’m very grateful for that . But it’s not

something that interests me, and there have been lots of opportunities to do things that make more money, and I’ve said no.”

Advertisers were forever off ering fortunes to use Potter characters, and M cDonald’s wanted to sell Harry Potter Happy Meals, but all to no avail. “I just hate meetings. Though it’s true that once you’ve made a lot of money people around you might be full of ideas about ways to make lots more money and might be disappointed that you don’t want to seize every opportunity to do so.”

Has her accountant ever suggested Jimmy Carr-style tax avoidance schemes? She looks appalled. “No! God, no, he’s not that kind of accountant. No. No one’s ever put that kind of thing to me – but then, they wouldn’t, they just wouldn’t. I do take a pretty dim view of those things. I actually chose my accountant because he said to me, ‘You have to make a fundamental decision . You have to choose whether you organise your money around your life or your life around your money.’”

When I ask her to name the worst thing about her life today, she can’t think of anything. After a long pause, “The very worst thing right now, this second, is that we’ve got no food in the fridge – what are we going to have for dinner tonight? Big deal. But no, I can’t think of anything dreadful in my life.” And fame has had its upsides; meeting Barack Obama and the legendary Democrat speechwriter Bob Shrum were the two greatest starstruck moments of her life. She has only ever once resorted to a disguise in order to go out without being recognised, but that was to buy her wedding dress. “I just wanted to be able to get married to Neil without any rubbish happening.” She won’t say what the disguise was – “In case,” she grins, “I need to use it again.” She’s stopped minding that people get her name wrong (it rhymes with bowling, not howling ), and quite likes being JK as a writer and Jo in real life. →

‘ There is nothing on the business side that I wouldn’t sacrifi ce in a heartbeat to have an extra couple of hours’ writing’ SP

EN

CE

R M

UR

PHY

FO

R T

HE

GU

AR

DIA

N


“Jo the mother is where I want to be the most private.”

She is not so private that she won’t say which way she’ll vote in the Scottish referendum – “I’m pro union” – and seems sanguine about the speculation that surrounds her every public move. The endless rumours that The Casual Vacancy would be a crime thriller just made her laugh. “It was all started by Ian Rankin . Ian and I did once have a conversation in which he rightly said the Potter novels are in the main whodunnits, so we were talking about that, and that led to him telling everyone that I was writing a crime novel, which was never the case.”

Whodunnits are her literary guilty pleasure – “I love a good Dorothy L Sayers” – but then again, she doesn’t really feel guilty about that : “There’s no shame in a Dorothy.” She hasn’t read Fifty Shades Of Grey , “because I promised my editor I wouldn’t .” She doesn’t look as if she feels she’s missing out. “Not wildly,” she agrees dr ily.

Her emotional world is now, she thinks, fi nally reconciled to her external reality. “In the end you reach a very healthy point, I think, where you disconnect. You really do. And I am there. And it’s been glorious for fi ve years, it’s been thrilling, the sheer freedom. I am the freest author in the world . I can do whatever the hell I like. My bills are paid – we all know I can pay my bills – I was under contract to no one, and the feeling of having all of these characters in my head and knowing that no one else knew a damned thing about them was amazing. It was just blissful. Pagford was mine, just mine, for fi ve years. I loved that. I wrote this novel as exactly what I wanted to write. And I loved it.”

I quote to her from a 2005 interview : “The fi rst thing I write post-Harry could be absolutely dreadful and, you know, people will buy it. So you’re left with this real insecurity.” Rowling nods vigorously. “But it’s true, isn’t it? Absolutely, that was my worst nightmare. The moment I said I’d fi nished a book, I knew what would happen. There would be a bidding war, and I would end up with someone who’d got the fattest wallet, who had bought it because I’d written Harry Potter. That would have been why.

“But I was really lucky on this, because I had a meeting with David Shelley, who’s now my editor, without him knowing there was a book. So we just had a conversation, and I could tell he was really on my wavelength. So then I sort of vaguely mentioned what I might have , without saying it’s virtually fi nished. There was no auction. It was just a great way to fi nd an editor.”

She swears she doesn’t care how well the book sells. “I’m not being snotty about that, but I feel quite disconnected from that sort of expectation.” There may be no commercial ambition left, but still perhaps an artistic point to prove? Some critics were always sniff y about Potter’s literary merit – “In an arbitrarily chosen single page of the fi rst Harry Potter book,” despaired Harold Bloom, “I count seven clichés ” – and I wonder if Rowling wrote The Casual Vacancy with those critics in mind. “No, I truly didn’t sit down and think, right, now it’s time to prove I can…” She breaks off and sighs. “I don’t think I physically could write a novel for that reason.”

To write such an ambitious book without ambition was neither a contradiction for Rowling, nor even a choice. “I just needed to write this book. I like it a lot, I’m proud of it, and that counts for me.” She did consider publishing under a pseudonym. “But in some ways I think it’s braver to do it like this. And, to an extent, you know what? The worst that can happen is that everyone says, ‘Well, that was dreadful, she should have stuck to writing for kids’ and I can take that. So, yeah, I’ll put it out there, and if everyone says, ‘Well, that’s shockingly bad – back to wizards with you’, then obviously I won’t be throwing a party. But I will live. I will live.”

I don’t doubt her, but her certainty has the faint zeal of a convert, so I ask how she can be sure. “Because I’m not the person I was a few years ago. I’m not. I’m happier ” •The Casual Vacancy, by JK Rowling, is published on Thursday by Little, Brown at £20. To order a copy for £15 with free UK p&p, go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop or call 0330 333 6846.


Beyond the velodrome

1

2

4

6

7

8

3

5

8Thanks to Bradley and co, cycling has never been so popular. But don’t let the end of summer put you off . These stylish accessories will help you stay in the saddle through the winter months


7 Cassandra coatLeave your cagoule under the stairs: waterproof coats just got classy. £130, wateroff aducksback.co.uk8 Wiggo rucksack Just because you’re a cyclist now, doesn’t mean you don’t care. Designer Ally Capellino ’s collection of beautiful, waterproof oiled canvas bags are a case in point, and come with laptop compartment and zip pockets . £160, allycapellino.co.uk 9 Bern helmet The only helmet to be seen in. The simple, clean design is a welcome move away from the Power Rangers look . £34.99, evanscycles.com 10 U-lock holder What do you do with that massive, heavy lock ? The answer is this chic leather lock “holster”. £40.81, etsy.com11 Leggits No more excuses, fairweather cyclists – these waterproofs strap on over your shoes, plus the straps are refl ective – dry and safe . £49.99, cyclechic.co.uk12 Linus market bag This waxed canvas pannier has a 1940s charm that we can’t resist. And it has a shoulder strap, too, so you can take it with you if you have to go out and about. £94.99, linusbags.co.uk

1 Carrie bicycle basket A wonderfully over-the-top bike basket, perfect for carrying the shopping – or maybe a small dog? £79, royaldesign.co.uk 2 Viza vee high-viz belt Cycling accessories can be terribly functional. Say “No!” to the boring fl u orescent-yellow visibility belt and opt for this jazzy one instead. £20, pushcycles.myshopify.com 3 Cyclestreets app Do you want to get there via the fastest or quietest route? A journey planner, designed for cyclists, by cyclists. Free, itunes.apple.com 4 Mopha tool roll This waxed canvas roll, with 10 pockets and a leather strap, is the perfect way to store your bike tools. £28.06, etsy.com5 Britain By Bike A guide to travelling around Britain on two wheels, with a foreword by newly-annointed national treasure Clare Balding. What more could you want?£9.51, amazon.co.uk6 Women’s daily riding trousers Stylish enough to pass for regular cropped trousers, but the breathable, durable fabric makes them ideal for a daily commute.Around £115, shop.outlier.cc

9

11

→

12

10


13 Refl ective biker gloves and socks It’s not always practical to lug extra cycling gear around with you. These feature refl ective patches to keep you safe on the roads at night . £15, suck.uk.com 14 Eddy base layer Made with merino wool, this is a British winter wardrobe essential if ever there was one.£50, fi nisterreuk.com15 Linus sac pannier The most stylish pannier we ’ve ever seen. Attaches to your bike with hooks, and comes with handles and an adjustable shoulder strap. £44.99, cyclechic.co.uk 16 Quick-fi x mudguards So you’ve bought your bike, and it’s sleek. So sleek that it has no mudguards. Solve the problem with these fold-up mudguards – simply click on and off . £14.99, cyclesurgery.com

17 Bobbin retro front light This battery-powered bike light adds a touch of old-world glamour to your ride. £24.99 , cyclechic.co.uk 18 Rapha cycling jeans Specialist cycling jeans with an array of clever features, including refl ective stripes inside the leg, so you can roll up and be seen. Extra hard-wearing, to endure some serious bum-chafi ng, and t ailored to accommodate the pedalling motion of your legs . They look pretty hot, too. £150, rapha.cc19 Vulpine jacket British tailoring, breathable fabric – plus a bright red splash-guard that unfolds from the back and acts as a mudguard when required. £195, vulpine.cc20 Halobelt A great alternative to a naff refl ective jacket. Doubles up as a psych-trance accessory at weekends. Around £53 plus shipping from US, halobelt.com •

13

14

15

17

19

20

18

16


Kate Moss turned up in fi shnets, Amy Winehouse didn’t want advice and the Queen was amused that welly boots were in the photograph. Bryan Adams tells Emma Brockes the stories behind his best shots

How we clicked


Previous pages: Lindsay Lohan – “She’s really playful,” says Adams. The Queen was tickled by the wellies being in shot. Samantha Morton gives Alexander McQueen a fi t of the giggles. This page, clockwise from main: Kate Moss was wearing only fi shnets when she turned up at Adams’s studio for the shoot; Tilda Swinton, Mick Jagger, Amy Winehouse and Michael J Fox. Overleaf, Mickey Rourke and friends tuck into shepherd’s pie

It would be diffi cult to measure, Bryan Adams says, but him having so often been on the receiving end of a photo shoot probably helps put his own subjects at ease. The 52-year-old rock star-turned-photographer has compiled a collection of celebrity portraits taken over the last 12 years, with subjects ranging from Amy Winehouse and Tilda Swinton to Mick Jagger and the Queen. Adams’s philosophy – “To make people look as good as possible, in the best possible light” – is simple and, to that end, he takes a relaxed approach: no gimmicky set-ups or props, nothing too high-concept and none of the mannered self-consciousness of many celebrity portrait artists. The results are fresh and interesting, and Adams is modest in his description of them – after rigorous pre-prepara tions, it’s just a question of turning up and seeing what happens, he says.

In the case of the Queen, he made the mistake of underestimating how fast fi ve minutes goes. The encounter took place at Buckingham Palace, and Adams, unwisely, decided to shoot on a 10-8 box camera that came with a lot of time-consuming rigmarole: every shot required him to insert and extract plates from the camera. The photograph he eventually got – of the Queen looking as relaxed as one is ever likely to see her – was among the fi nal frames he took on a last-minute impulse.

“I happened to have my little pocket camera


Kate Moss is never going to be a hard subject, but photographing a woman so often pictured requires a little ingenuity . At the time , Adams was using his own kitchen as a studio, “And about 10 minutes before she arrived, her agent rang and said, ‘Kate just called and said she’s only going to wear fi shnet stockings. Is that OK?” Adams said yes. He wondered if the agent was joking. He wasn’t : Moss walked into his kitchen and unveiled the fi shnets. The photo took itself.

Adams had read all the things about Lindsay Lohan that everyone else had, but over the course of several shoots , he never saw that side of her. “I got the sense [that] she’s really playful . She loves what she does, she’s a great subject to work with. Both times she’s been completely engaging. I never saw th e side that’s written about.” The cigarette in the shot wasn’t choreographed but came from Lohan messing around.

When there is more than one subject in the room, Adams tries to make himself invisible . So it was with Mickey Rourke and his friends having lunch at the Dorchester. “Shepherd’s pie, I think. It went down a treat.” And with Samantha Morton and Alexander McQueen: Adams can’t

remember what Morton said to set McQueen off , but it was defi nitely hilarious.

Of Swinton, he says, “Her beauty is so quintessentially English-Scottish. She typifi es that with such grace and poise. She’s a great spirit.”

And of Michael J Fox: “One of the gentlest and kindest people , and so keen to do the best he can.”

If Adams could photograph anyone right now, it would be Sylvester Stallone. But the person he returns to in his mind is Winehouse. A while after the shoot , she called him. “She asked me to do some of her last pictures, in fact, when she was being photographed for Fred Perry. She asked, would I do that campaign for her. I hadn’t spoken to her for a bit and I said, ‘Oh, Amy, it’s really nice of you to ask me to do this.’ And she said to me, ‘Well, you was there when I was wrong.’”

A singular phrase. Softly, Adams says it again: “You was there when I was wrong.” •Exposed, by Bryan Adams, is published by Steidl, priced £80. To order a copy for £64, with free UK mainland p&p, go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop or call 0330 333 6846.

ALL

IMA

GE

S ©

BR

YAN

AD

AM

S, 2

012

on me, too, and just as the session was ending and the corgis were running out of the door, I said, ‘Ma’am, would you mind just having a seat here for a second?’ And that’s the picture.”

Why is she smiling so broadly? “She asked me if the boots were in the shot. And I said, ‘Yes, ma’am.’ And then she smiled.”

Among the easiest subjects was Jagger, who in this portrait looks like a rock version of WH Auden and an advertisement for the wisdom of resisting Botox. He brings his own iPod, Adams says , and while shooting they listened to blues. “He’s very funny and engaging, and a handsome man to shoot. He’s OK with who he is, I guess.”

Adams fi rst photographed Winehouse in 2007 , on Mustique in the Caribbean, when she “was having extraordinary problems. I did the best I could at the time to try to help , but there was no possibility. She wasn’t listening to anyone.”

How was she during the shoot? “Amy was very particular about things. She was very sure about how she wanted to look. As far as direction would go, I ’d say, let’s go for a walk and see what happens. It was very much a casual thing. I wouldn’t try to do too much set-up.”


EM

ILY

ST

EIN

FO

R T

HE

GU

AR

DIA

N

weekender fashion beauty food & drink mind relationships homes gardens property cars puzzles

I get out of bed every morning and aim to avoid looking anything like Cheryl Cole . She is my anti-style icon . Whenever I pick an outfi t, I think: would Cheryl wear this? Hair extensions , body con and super high heels don’t appeal to me . It’s all a bit TOWIE .I love Rihanna . Day after day after day, she pulls off sexy, whether she’s rough and ready, or going to the Met Ball. She once wore a blazer dress that came halfway down her thighs, with thigh-high boots. It sounds as if she should have been scouting for business on a street corner, but in fact it looked amazing. Fashion blogger Karen Blanchard is another style icon. She’s a British girl in New York who posts pictures of herself in diff erent outfi ts on her blog, wheredidugetthat.com . She has perfected laid-back chic. I’m a brave dresser. If you’re confi dent, you can pull off almost anything. This dress is from Asos , and I’ve dressed it down with my black leather biker jacket from Topshop . A black biker is a wardrobe staple – everybody should own at least one.It’s a big moment for a designer when your fi rst product gets sold on the high street. My fi rst one was a tassel clutch bag with a chain handle for Miss Selfridge . I saw a couple of people in the street with it and I had to stop them and say, “I designed that!” Interview by Becky Barnicoat.

HANDBAG DESIGNER, 23

Helena Maria Kidacka

Are you a Weekender? Email a photo and a brief description of how you spend your weekends to [email protected] .


1 2

All agesFine and dandy

1 Lisskulla wears jumper, £38, by Warehouse , warehouse.co.uk . Skirt, £155, by Dagmar, from netaporter.

com . Boots, £269, by Penelope Chilvers , penelopechilvers.com .

2 Dap wears jumper, £32, by Next , next.co.uk . Cords, £205, by J Brand , from Matches , matchesfashion.com . Bag,

£49.99, by Zara , zara.com . Boots, £120, by Topshop , topshop.com .

3 Ema wears jumper, £159, by Dagmar, from Fenwick , fenwick.co.uk . Skirt, £89, by Cos , cosstores.com .

Shoes, £49.99, by Zara , as before .

4 Michele wears jumper, £195, by Margaret Howell, from Liberty , liberty.co.uk . Trousers, £69, by Cos , as

before . Shoes, £68, by Topshop , as before .

5 Betsie wears jumper, £300, by Acne, from Matches , as before . Trousers, £35, from asos.com . Shoes, £220, by

Kurt Geiger , kurtgeiger.com .

Photographer: David Newby for the Guardian. Stylist: Melanie Wilkinson. Make up: Lisa Stokes using Dior 1. Hair: Jamie McCormick using Bumble and bumble. Models: Lisskulla at Bookings, Dap Tony at Elite, Ema at FM, Michele and Betsie at Close Models.

FASHION


3 54


Wish listWhat we like this week

3

4

5

1

2

FASHION

1 Bag, £385, by See by Chloé, from my-wardrobe.com .2 Boots, £150, by bananarepublic.co.uk .3 Necklace, £15, asos.com .4 Dress, £160, jaeger.co.uk .5 Top, £150, sandro-paris.com .

GET THE LOOK

FASHION

1 Dress, £130, warehouse.co.uk .2 Etched fl oral top, £85, oasis-stores.com .3 Skirt, £59.99, shop.mango.com .4 Top, £199, by Autograph, from marksandspencer.com .

Sometimes fashion makes a killing by taking something that used to be a bit fancy, a bit rar efi ed, and marketing it to the

masses. I’m not just talking about clothes. It happened with chandeliers, which used to be just for hotel ballrooms and can now be stacked on to your Ikea trolley for 30 quid a pop. And it also happened with cupcakes, once a symbol of sepia-tinted domestic joy, the preserve of birthday parties and storybooks, and now sold at service stations.

The fashion industry is currently on a mission to see if it can make the same thing happen to clothes made of leather. (I specify clothes because, obviously, leather shoes are not exactly a trend waiting to happen.) Leather clothing has never played more than a bit role in fashion – leather is too expensive, not to mention too impractical, for that. You might have a leather jacket, or a leather skirt, but few women would have more than one or two pieces.

Leather is getting cheaper, and new fabric technologies and techniques mean that lightweight

JESS CARTNER-MORLEY

How to dress The leatherforecast

DA

VID

NE

WB

Y F

O R

TH

E G

UA

RD

IAN

. HA

IR A

ND

MA

KE

UP:

DA

NI R

ICH

AR

DSO

N U

SIN

G C

HA

NE

L SS

2012

AN

D H

YD

RA

BE

AU

TY

SE

RU

M. B

BC

; AL

AM

Y; R

EX

leather (the kind from which you could make a T-shirt) is now available at high-street prices.

The leather with which the industry hopes to make a killing is leather-lite. This is leather for the skinny-cap era. The kind of leather that goes into making biker jackets weigh a tonne and gives a James Dean toughness to a jacket, which works. But the James Dean reference works less well when you’re designing a sleeveless shift dress, or a leather T-shirt. For that, you need a slimmed-down leather, one that won’t make you sweat, or look a half-ounce fatter than you really are, or be reminded that you are wearing an animal product.

If you’re thinking, “ Leather shift dress? How outlandish. I can’t see myself buying one of those”, then I refer you back to cupcakes and chandeliers. Stranger trends than this one have taken off .

And no. It’s kind of you to be concerned, but I’m not hot at all, thanks very much. Dress, £499, by By Malene Birger, bymalenebirger.com . Courts, £165 , by Russell & Bromley, russellandbromley.co.uk . Pendant and watch, Jess’s own.

42 3

GOING UP

Dallas JR’s mad brows. John Ross’s

’tache. Sue Ellen’s husky tone. Wednesday night

is back in the game.Sue Perkins Can’t get

enough of her. Ready, steady, bake! No-choice menus Soho House founder Nick Jones takes it to the next level with his 50s-style diner Chicken Shop , serving only roast free-range birds, chips, coleslaw and corn on the cob. Delicious Agi & Sam Menswear duo extend their witty prints to a mini collection for Harvey Nichols. Total yay.Kilts and dungarees Wardrobe re- examination alert. See Topshop Unique for how + why.Mary Janes Nailing the back-to-school vibe. Bonus points for a double strap.

GOING DOWN

Stripey T-shirts Fine for the hol s, but not in the real world. Retire.Football Overpaid, oversexed men just don’t cut the mustard any more. We’re winners now. Polaroids on shoe boxes The new high-maintenance shoe thing is to stuff scented bags into the toes.

Pippa ’s New York wardrobe Pips , you’re a twenty-

something in Manhattan, not a thirtysomething on a Surrey school run.

Baffl ing.

The Measure

Mary Janes Nailing the back-to-school vibe. Bonus points for a double strap.

1


1 Pleated dress £160, karenmillen.com .2 Necklaces £260, net-a-porter.com .3 Lace top £34, topshop.com .4 Belt £79, jigsaw-online.com .5 Jumper £79, boden.co.uk .

Carey Mulligan has class. While her contemporaries in the fame game battle it out for column inches

with sex tapes and tweeted bikini photos, this 27-year-old does things her own way. When Mulligan wears a simple, knee-length dress with a high neckline and a detailed collar framing that elfi n face, she sets herself apart as fresher than the women around her on the red carpet, corset ed and Spanxed and cantilevered into the narrowest frocks they can fi nd.

Mulligan’s star is in the ascendant, which is good news , because we can expect plenty of opportunities to study her take on event dressing. She is not afraid to wear a trend before anyone else – her mullet-hemmed Prada Oscar frock is a case in point – but maintains as a touchstone in her wardrobe the simple silhouette of a cinched-waist dress, ending on or just above the knee. Mulligan doesn’t do cleavage. This is one of the styling details which makes her a fashionistas’ favourite – cleavage has seldom been seen on the catwalk in years, though you ’d never guess from its continued dominance of popular culture. She favours a high neckline, but is savvy enough to know this needs something to make it pop. Often, this is a contrast collar; at other times, it is a cutaway halterneck . When she wears a simple crewneck , there will be statement jewels at the throat and a feature belt.

Cute doesn’t have to be sugary. Finding a shape that suits you to function as the anchor in your wardrobe, as Mulligan has done with her nipped-waist dresses, makes dressing infi nitely easier. And a contrast collar is the thinking girl’s Wonderbra. Carey Mulligan’s red carpet wardrobe is an education for us all. Jess Cartner-Morley

Autumn style icons Carey Mulligan’s signature cinched-waist dresses

IN ASSOCIATION WITH

5

4

31 2

AU

TU

MN

ST

YLE

ICO

NS

IS F

UN

DE

D B

Y B

OD

EN

AN

D E

DIT

OR

IALL

Y C

ON

TR

OLL

ED

BY

TH

E

GU

AR

DIA

N T

O A

BR

IEF

AG

RE

ED

WIT

H B

OD

EN

. PH

OT

OG

RA

PHS:

RE

X; G

ET

TY

(3)


BEAUTY

I’ m quite good at convincing myself that I look better than I really do, even though I know I’m no longer a great physical speciman. I’m lucky I was born with oily skin , so I’ve got a good, youngish complexion . And because I haven’t been startled too much in my life or laughed too uproariously, I haven’t got too many lines. My face is fairly immobile and set in what appears to be quite a glum expression. My wife sometimes reminds me of this, but when I do try to smile, it frightens her.

As a student, I thought I was pretty gorgeous. I was lead singer in a band , but I could only go halfway there with it. I could never do the whole messianic Bono/Mick Jagger thing.

I know my faults. I’ve got very baggy eyes and I’m getting something of a double chin. I’ve also got a lot fatter over the years and I keep telling my kids, who are incredibly skinny, that they can’t be complacent, but they just laugh at me. I’ve always been rubbish at taking exercise, but I have taken up running recently in a last-ditch eff ort to stay alive. I’m still waiting to enjoy it. I started to develop a beer gut in my 20s and I wish I was more sensible, but I still like beer. I measure my run in how many extra beers I can have . That’s why I do it.

Getting older doesn’t bother me. I have a slight secret longing to be a grubby old man with a white beard, sitting in a chair with a blanket. I say embrace it and go the whole hog. The Sacrifi ce , the fourth book in Charlie Higson ’s The Enemy series, is published by Puffi n.

CHARLIE HIGSON

Get the lookSali Hughes on anti-shine products

What I see in the mirrorS

hine straddles a fi ne line. On one side, it adds a dewy, youthful glow to the face that many of us would love (and routinely try to replicate

with cream blushers, illuminators and glosses) . On the other, shiny skin rarely holds make-up well, is usually a sign of excess oil and an ever-present threat of breakout, and can look a little sweaty and undone come the afternoon.

The problem with many anti-shine products is that they can make skin look chalky and patchy, because they over-absorb grease and replac e it with powder and silicone. Others strip so much oil that they leave skin frantically producing more to over compensate , so exacerbating the shine problem . What shiny skin actually needs is gentle, oil-free skincare to treat it, and light silicones and very fi ne particled make-up to disguise its eff ects.

As someone whose skin is as dry as a husk, it seemed pretty pointless even to think about testing this week’s products on myself, so instead I sent them to friends who claim that shine is one of their biggest beauty gripes. The six listed below mattifi ed, absorbed and treated excess shine better than any others, and all left skin feeling soft, not parched. R

UI F

AR

IA F

OR

TH

E G

UA

RD

IAN

; EY

EV

INE

Aromatherapy Associates Mattifying Skin Serum , £32, bathandunwind.com Very gentle and soothing serum, which leaves a velvety fi nish that helps grip make-up.

Dove Spa Keepsake Mattifying Gel Cream , £17, dovespa.co.uk A clever moisturiser that includes silicones to absorb grease while it treats the skin.

Kleenex Shine Absorbing Sheets , £2.99, superdrug.com Don’t buy those horrible powder sheets. Instead, get these: hygienic, super-eff ective and can be used over make-up.

Vichy Normaderm , from £10.50, boots.com This range is fab at absorbing sweat and oil, while keeping skin fresh and moist. Total Mat moisturiser was a big hit.

Laura Mercier Secret Finish Mattifying , £23.50, houseoff raser.co.uk When make-up comes undone, repair it with a dab of this. Mattifi es

immediately .

Institut Esthederm Pure System Shine Control Fluid , £23.95, beautybay.com A fantastic moisturiser that leaves skin hydrated and glowing, and with no shine.


FOOD

I have a soft spot for some of the puds that graced my mother’s 1970s dinner party tables – pavlova always hit the spot, and I’ll never tire of her profi teroles. Baked

Alaska usually lacks subtlety – over -sweet and ridiculously showy, it’s more about the spectacle of serving ice-cream out of the oven than about fl avour or fi nesse – but she cleverly served it with raspberries, which added vital fruity tartness and made it extra-special. It also added a third temperature – essentially ambient – to the hot meringue and frozen ice-cream. Genius.

There is something irresistible and a bit daring about the mingling of contrasting temperatures in the mouth. It excites the palate and gently, deliciously, confuses the bit of the brain that processes taste, temperature and texture. Virtuoso chefs have had fun playing with the hot-cold idea. Heston Blumenthal – the mischievous scamp — perfected the art of serving tea that is hot on one side of the cup and cold on the other. And Ferran Adri à used to fi re up diners with a hot-cold gin fi zz cocktail that hid a frozen, lemony slush beneath a warm gin foam. And at Roganic in London, Simon Rogan is dishing up hot, charred slices of “dragon’s egg” cucumber (a sweet, white, ovoid variety) with a frozen goat’s cheese “snow”.

But such sensory sport is not the sole preserve of the professional chef. Contrasting temperatures can be found time and time again in the annals of good, simple, comforting

home cooking. You can experience a chaud-froid frisson with something as simple as a dish of piping hot apple crumble and a jug of fridge-cold cream; or with a hot burger off the barbie squashed into a bun with a spoonful of cool tomato salsa. A hot chocolate brownie served with ice-cold plum sorbet and fridge-cold cream is an all-time favourite pud for me. And then there’s the time-honoured pairing of hot (in two senses) curries and chillies with cold, mouth-cooling raitas, dips and creamy sauces.

So this weekend , let’s whizz back and forth between the cooker and the freezer or fridge , and enjoy the sensuous pleasures of blowing hot and cold at the same time.

ICE-CREAM WITH FROZEN RASPBERRIES AND HOT CHOCOLATE FUDGE SAUCE

This very easy pudding is pure, sugary, hot-and-cold indulgence, the sort of thing to send a shiver down your spine in the most appealing way. Serves four.

150g chocolate fudge, roughly crumbled or chopped

25ml milk

100-125g frozen raspberries

Vanilla ice-cream

50g slivered, toasted almonds or other nuts of your choice (optional)

Put the crumbled or chopped fudge into a small pan and add the milk. Heat gently, stirring constantly and

There’s something magical about food that’s hot and cold at the same time, says Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall

FOO

D P

HO

TO

GR

APH

Y: C

OLI

N C

AM

PBE

LL F

OR

TH

E G

UA

RD

IAN

Opposites attract


crushing the fudge pieces with a spoon as you do so, until the fudge has melted into the milk, making a smooth, pourable sauce.

Take the raspberries out of the freezer about 10 minutes before serving, so they soften a little. It’s worth doing the same with the ice-cream, to make it easier to scoop.

Put two scoops of ice-cream into each of four glasses or sundae dishes , scatter over the raspberries and top with hot fudge sauce . Finish off with a generous scattering of nuts, if you like.

CRAB CAKES WITH CHILLED FENNEL AND APPLE SALAD

The combination of crisp, pan-hot crab cakes and a chilled, delicately sweet, aniseed-scented salad is very pleasing . Serves four as a starter.

250g mixed white and brown crabmeat

Grated zest of 1 lemon

1 tbsp fi nely chopped parsley and/or chives

1-2 tbsp crème fraîche or soured cream (optional)

3 tbsp plain fl our

1 medium egg, lightly beaten

50g slightly stale, fi ne white breadcrumbs

4 tbsp sunfl ower oil

Lemon wedges, to serve

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the salad

1 bulb fennel

2 tbsp olive oil

1 tbsp baby capers, rinsed

Lemon juice

1 crisp dessert apple, such as a cox

Put the crabmeat in a bowl with the lemon zest, parsley and/or chives,

and plenty of salt and pepper, and stir gently together. ( The moist brown crab meat should be enough to bind it all together, but if not, add a little crème fraîche, if ne ed be.) Divide the mixture into four and shape each into a fat cake, about 2cm thick. Chill for about an hour.

To make the salad, trim the fennel, then slice as fi nely as you can. Combine it in a bowl with the oil, capers, a squeeze of lemon and salt and pepper (remember that the capers are already salty). Toss, then refrigerate. Put the apple in the fridge, too, to chill down.

When you’re ready to cook , quarter, core and thinly slice the apple , toss it into the salad and return to the fridge .

Put the fl our on a plate and season with salt and pepper. Pour the egg into a shallow dish and scatter the breadcrumbs on another plate. Take a crab cake and dip it into the fl our to coat on all sides. Shake off any excess , dip it into the beaten egg and fi nally into the breadcrumbs. Repeat with the other three crab cakes.

Heat the oil in a large frying pan. Add the crab cakes and fry over a medium heat for six to seven minutes, turning them carefully now and again, until crisp and golden brown. Serve at once with the chilled salad and a wedge of lemon.

AUTUMN VEG CHILLI WITH CHILLED GUACAMOLE This veggie, beany chilli is best made ahead of time, chilled and reheated a day or two later. Serves four.

3 tbsp sunfl ower or rapeseed oil

2 onions, peeled and chopped

1 red, yellow or orange pepper, stalk, pith and seeds removed, chopped

1 bulb fennel, trimmed and c hopped ≥


2 garlic cloves, peeled and fi nely chopped or grated

2-3 medium-hot red chillies (or to taste), deseeded and fi nely chopped

2 tsp ground cumin

¼ tsp ground allspice

2 tbsp tomato purée

400g tinned plum tomatoes, crushed (or 500g fresh tomatoes, skinned, deseeded and roughly chopped)

1 smallish aubergine (about 300g ), cut into 1cm dice

400g tinned beans (cannellini or pinto , say) , drained and rinsed

400ml vegetable stock

Chilled soured cream

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the guacamole

2 tbsp fi nely chopped coriander

Juice of 1 lemon, or of ½ a lemon and 1 lime

2 large, ripe avocados, chilled

1 tbsp rapeseed or olive oil

½-1 tbsp full-fat plain yoghurt (optional)

Heat two tablespoons of oil in a large saucepan over a medium-low heat. Add the onion , sweat for about fi ve minutes, then add the pepper and fennel, and sweat for fi ve minutes more. Add the garlic, chillies, cumin, allspice and a pinch or two of salt, stir and cook for a couple of minutes. Stir in the tomato purée

and tomatoes, and simmer gently for 20-25 minutes while you prepare the aubergine.

Heat the remaining tablespoon of oil in a frying pan over medium heat, add the aubergine and fry , stirring often, for fi ve minutes, until softened and tak ing on some colour. Stir this into the pan of bubbling chilli , and add the beans and stock. Bring to a simmer and cook gently, uncovered, for an hour, until the mixture is thick and rich, and all the veg is nicely tender. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Make the guacamole just before serving: put the coriander and lemon and/or lime juice in a bowl. Halve, deseed and peel the avocados , cut them into chunks and drop into the bowl. Add the oil and plenty of salt and pepper, then mash the lot together : keep it a bit rough and lumpy, if you like, or mash smooth. (You can make it even smoother and saucier by whisking in a little yoghurt.) Check the seasoning.

Serve the chilli piping hot with bowl s of the cold guacamole and soured cream alongside. Serve with rice, warm tortillas or fl atbreads • guardian.co.uk/hughfearnleywhittingstall Hugh’s new book, Three Good Things, is published by Bloomsbury at £25. To order a copy for £ 16 (including free UK mainland p&p), go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop or call 0330 333 6846.

Ever since I fi rst came across perry in the early 1990s, I’ve been fascinated by it , not least by the idea that perry trees c an grow to the size of an oak and still be productive when they are 200 years old – you plant pears for heirs, the saying goes. And I remember the drink, too; quite diff erent from cider , pure, fragrant, much like a white wine.

Fast-forward 20 years, and we’re in the middle of a pear cider boom that has nothing to do with perry – it’s made from dessert pears or concentrate with added artifi cial fl avours. Perry, by contrast, has its own PGI s (the three counties of Herefordshire, Gloucestershire and Worcestershire) and hundreds of specifi c perry pears with evocative names such as Merrylegs , Painted Lady and Mumblehead (you can tell how that last one came about…).

The start of the perry pear harvest is a good time to reacquaint yourself with the real thing. I headed to the Bristol Cider Shop , which always has a changing selection on tap, on this occasion the fragrant McCrindle’s Blakeney Red (6.2% abv), which you can buy for £2 a p int. That works out at just £2.60 for a 750ml bottle – cheaper than even the cheapest cut-price wine.

Perry tends to be sweeter than cider, but I think its delicate fl avours show best when it’s dry. Established names to look out

for are Oliver’s , Gwatkin and Hecks , though I still have a soft spot for the fi rst one I tasted, the heady, organic Dunkertons Perry (£2.45 for 500ml, Abel & Cole ; £2.60, Vintage Roots ; 7.5% abv), which you could drink in place of a pinot gris with spicy Asian food. Of the sweeter styles, try Lyne Down Perry (£5 for 750ml, direct from lynedowncider.co.uk ; or £5.20, Bristol Cider Shop ), which smells of pears and honey and which you could drink with a simple dessert such as pannacotta and raspberries. Appropriate name, too.

Sparkling perr ies are a popular alternative to champagne at West Country weddings (still perry or cider for the meal, sparkling for the toast). James McCrindle again makes a delicious one called Loiterpin (8.5% abv) for £14.95 from the Bristol Cider Shop (10% off if you buy a case), or try Gregg’s Pit ’s richer, softer Herefordshire Perry (5.5%), made from Barnet, Brandy and Winnals Longdon pears ( greggs-pit.co.uk for stockists).

And if you haven’t got access to a good cider shop? Waitrose does the best own-label one I’ve tasted, Vintage English Perry 2011 (8% abv): a 500ml bottle costs just £1.95, though if you get your skates on, it’s on special off er at £1.46 until Tuesday. matchingfoodandwine.com

WinePerry is in a different class from pear cider, says Fiona Beckett

KA

TH

ER

INE

RO

SE (2

)B

ER

GE

RA

ND

WY

SE.C

OM

Berger & Wyse

FOOD & DRINK


FOOD

FRIED BRIK PARCELS WITH APPLE AND CLOVE For brunch or a serious dessert. Serves six.

90g mascarpone

90g Greek yoghurt

90g double cream

2 tsp icing sugar

3 bramley apples (500g)

4 granny smith apples (500g)

2 tbsp lemon juice

½ vanilla pod, scraped

5 whole cloves

100g dried sour cherries

70g musc ovado sugar

6 30cm-diameter round brik sheets (if you can’t fi nd any, use fi lo)

Sunfl ower oil , for frying

Put the mascarpone, yoghurt, cream and icing sugar in a bowl, whisk

smooth and refrigerate until needed.Peel the apples, cut into 1 .5cm dice

and toss in a pan with the lemon juice and three tablespoons of water. Add the vanilla pod and seeds, cloves, cherries and sugar , then sauté on medium heat, stirring , for 12 minutes, until soft . Set aside.

Add oil to a medium pan to come 5cm up the sides and put on medium heat . Remove the cloves and vanilla pod from the apple pan. Take a brik sheet, fold it in half , and put two tablespoons of apple in the centre, with 3cm clear all round. Fold over the long side and rounded side , then fold up the short sides so they over-lap in the middle , encasing the apple in a 12cm x 5cm rectangle . Repeat with the remaining brik and fi lling.

Carefully slide one parcel , folded side down, into the hot oil and fry for two minutes until golden-brown, turning once. Transfer to kitchen

paper to drain, and repeat with the rest. Serve hot with the cream.

VERMICELLI, BEEF AND CHICKPEA CASSEROLE A super-comforting meal in a pot. Serves four.

4 tbsp olive oil

400g piece stewing beef

Beef bones (or 1 cube beef stock)

15 cloves garlic, peeled

200g vermicelli pasta

1 medium onion, peeled and diced

3 carrots, peeled, cut into 1cm dice

200g celery, cut into 1cm dice

1½ tsp ground cumin

½ tsp ground allspice

10 cardamom pods, lightly crushed

1 tbsp tomato paste

240g cooked chickpeas

Yotam OttolenghiA lovely spiced pastry for brunch or pudding, plus a stew that’s well worth the eff ort

CO

LIN

CA

MPB

ELL

FO

R T

HE

GU

AR

DIA

N. F

OO

D S

TY

LIN

G: C

LA

IRE

PTA

K

Shaved skin of 1 lemon

½ tsp caster sugar

2 tbsp lemon juice

1 green chilli, fi nely chopped

20g parsley, fi nely chopped

200g Greek yoghurt

Salt

Put a large sauté pan on high heat, add a tablespoon of oil and brown the beef and bones (if using ) . Add two litres of water , bring to a boil, skim and simmer gently for two hours until the meat is very tender . After an hour and a half, add the garlic ; and ensure the meat is always immersed, so add water as needed .

Remove the meat and garlic and measure the liquid: you need 650ml, so discard or add water as necessary; add the stock cube, if using. Cut the meat into bite-size chunks and put back in the pan with the garlic.

Heat the oven to 220C/gas mark 7. Break the pasta into 2-3 cm pieces, lay on an oven tray, and bake until toasted (three to fi ve minutes) .

Heat the remaining oil in a large pan, add the diced veg and sauté on medium heat for 10 minutes, stirring . Add the spices, tomato paste, chickpeas, lemon skin, sugar and a teaspoon of salt , cook for fi ve minutes, then tip into the beef pan . Add the noodles and lemon juice, stir and bring to a boil. Turn the heat very low, cover with a tight lid, and simmer gently for eight minutes, until the noodles absorb the liquid.

Leave to rest for a few minutes, stir through the chilli and parsley and serve with yoghurt on the side. Yotam Ottolenghi is chef/patron of Ottolenghi and Nopi in London. His new book, Jerusalem, co-written with Sami Tamimi, is published by Ebury Press at £2 7. To order a copy for £ 16 (inc free UK mainland p&p), go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop , or call 0330 333 6846.


FOOD

Fresh curd cheese – the sort that has a delicate, ricotta-like consistency rather than “fresh” from the supermarket but matured and fi rm – can be used in sweet baking to give a softer texture to the crumb. Use it in classic cheesecakes and English curd tarts , but you can also add it to chocolate cakes and citrus tarts for a richer fl avour. Something like the Perroche goat’s cheese from Neal’s Yard Dairy is ideal ; or warm some goat’s or sheep’s milk, stir in rennet according to the instructions, and strain overnight in muslin : easy and home made . The left-over whey is excellent in breadmaking, giv ing a delicate acidity to crust and crumb.

CHOCOLATE CURD CAKES

Bake small cakes in muffi n cases, or as one large tart to serve in wedges. The texture is midway between a

brownie and a pudding, with the cheese lending a gentle, sharp fl avour . Very good served warm with coff ee ice-cream and a dousing of armagnac. I used fresh unpasteuri sed sheep’s curd , which has a delicate, slightly nutty fl avour and a subtle acidity.

275g dark chocolate ( 70%, say)

125g unsalted butter

450g fresh goat’s or sheep’s cheese (or equal parts ricotta and cream cheese, mixed)

300g sugar (white or brown)

3 medium eggs

2 tsp vanilla extract

100g ground almonds

125g plain fl our

1 tsp baking powder

Toasted almonds or pine nuts

Melt the chocolate and the butter together. In a bowl, beat the cheese

and sugar until smooth, then beat in the eggs, vanilla and almonds. Stir in the chocolate/butter mixture, followed by the fl our and baking powder. Spoon into muffi n cases set in a pocketed tray, or into a deep, round, buttered 20-25cm tart tin (use ramekins for any leftovers), fi lling just short of the top because they sink slightly once cool. Sprinkle with toasted almonds or pine nuts and bake at 190C (170C fan-assisted)/375F/gas mark 5 for about 25 minutes for muffi ns; or until the middle has gently risen for the tart, which will take a little longer.

LEMON AND CURD CHEESE TART

Alastair Little taught me this method of adding soft cheese to a classic tart citron, and I was hooked from the moment I tasted it. It requires a very

Dan LepardOnce you’ve tried fresh curd cheese in sweet baking, you’ll fi nd it very hard to go back

CO

LIN

CA

MPB

ELL

FO

R T

HE

GU

AR

DIA

N. F

OO

D S

TY

LIN

G: C

LA

IRE

PTA

K

gentle bake temperature in order to set evenly without cracking; even with care, it can sometimes develop a seismic fault line through the middle, but you can mask that somewhat when you cut it into wedges for serving. If you use free-range eggs, especially more expensive ones such as those from Clarence Court that have vividly golden yolks, the tart will have a more richly lemon-coloured curd fi lling.

150g caster sugar

Finely grated zest of 3 lemons

150g soft goat’s or sheep’s cheese

3 medium eggs, plus two extra yolks

50g crème fraîche

150ml fresh lemon juice

One 18cm shortcrust pastry base, blind baked until golden and crisp, and kept in the metal tart case

Beat the sugar, zest and cheese until utterly smooth, then whisk in the eggs and crème fraîche. Stir in the lemon juice, then leave the mixture to sit for 30 minutes so that a froth rises to the top . Carefully skim off and discard this froth (leaving it on will only mar the upper surface of the tart; the fl avour will still be good).

Check the tart case, still in it s tin, for any cracks or holes and patch them up with a little raw shortcrust dough so the crust is leakproof (some chefs like to give the inside a brush with egg white and then give it a quick blast in a hot oven to set it and create a waterproof liner eff ect).

Heat the oven to 170C (150C fan-assisted)/335F/gas mark 3. P ut the tart, still in its tin, on a baking tray, transfer to the oven and pour in the fi lling through a sieve to remove the zest. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until barely set, then remove and leave until cold before serving. danlepard.com/guardian


FOOD & DRINK

Marina O’Loughlin‘This, surely, is going to be the easiest of targets. Except it isn’t. It’s lovely’

We’re seated by a tap that drips into a chipped, scalloped sink; the “distressed” table is set with tarnished, bone-handled cutlery; shifting seat, I get a giant splinter in my jeans. This whole Marie Antoinette-ish palaver is, surely, going to be the easiest of targets. Except it isn’t. It’s lovely.

Apart from anything else, there’s the beauty: a glass jar of perfectly ripe greengages sits beside sundae glasses of strawberries and meringue;

Hastings is a curious town. Get off the train, and you’re immediately plunged into the melancholy reality that is the

English seaside town, glory days fi rmly in the past. But as soon as you pass the scuff ed splendour of Pelham Terrace, the atmosphere changes dramatically.

This is the Old Town , all winding twittens and clapboard cottages populated by chaps who look like Penfold in Danger Mouse or wafty, nouveau Land Girls ; arty urbanites in search of the Good Life, for whom Coast magazine is as lubricious as porn. It has a High Street, complete with butcher, baker (organic, natch) and now, with AG Hendy & Co Home Store , a purveyor of candlesticks.

This is a labour of almost maniacal love by Al astair Hendy , photographer, stylist and food writer . It took him more than three years to restore the building, and every surface now groan s with things you thought they didn’t make any more: Bristolware, bottle brushes, ostrich feather dusters. Hastings being Hastings, it’s also full of day tripper rubberneckers picking up enamel colanders and saying , “I got one of those at TK Maxx .” Oh, wait. That was me.

The coyly named Kitchen is the only new part of the building, but you’d never know from its artfully dusty beams. Hendy is in the open kitchen with twin blond Adonises. Even the staff appear to be curated .

subtle and soothingly bland; Hendy’s recipe suggests raw, mandolined courgettes: “Let some ripple and loop back on themselves, so it looks like a rectangle of green-edged tumbled ribbon.” Which kind of says it all.

Everything is plonked insouciantly on enamelware, with nothing more than a slice of lemon or slick of sauce. Crab bisque off ers the tricksiest presentation, but even that’s just metal saucepan on metal tray with ladle for self-serving. It’s gorgeous, too: rich, deep crab fl avour, lick of cream and brandy. The tiniest hint of fennel makes me wish he’d dumped in a slug of pastis, but it’s damn nigh perfect.

Browsing previous menus, a pattern emerges. Some fresh veg , the kind you’d pluck from the allotment. Assemblies with green herbs and creamy curds. Items baked with butter and a punch of vivid aromatics. Fresh fi sh, simply cooked, simply served. Some kind of seafoody stew. Retro numbers such as sprats and bloaters and “melts [soft roe] on toast”. It’s basic, and brilliant.

Lulled into a little sepia fug, we’re woken up sharply by the prices: lunch for two ends up way over the ton . OK, that includes wine and excellent bloody mary , but the seabass costs £28, which is up there with any Mayfair wankpit . Still, I leave a total convert: Hendy is some kind of obsessive maverick who has created a seductive world of his own. And, for a brief moment out of time, I’m glad he let me in.

an enamel tub brims with rosy lobsters. In the semi-gloom and dark-painted walls, it’s as aff ecting as a Vermeer still life.

There are only a handful of tables , a few of them in the kitchen itself. The food, which comes without any kind of starter/main course rhythm, is everything you want lunch by the sea to be. There’s dressed crab, sweet and pungent, with the kind of wobbly, home made mayonnaise you can cut with a knife. Simple things make you coo with pleasure thanks to the freshness of the ingredients: oily, chargrilled sourdough piled high with creamy goat’s curd and emerald broad beans; a whole wild seabass with ticklish green sauce of capers, gherkins and fresh herbs. A slab of delicate courgette tart is

KA

TH

ER

INE

RO

SE F

OR

TH

E G

UA

RD

IAN

SOLUTIONS

Quiz 1 Downing Street (N o 10 cat). 2 The Hustons: Walter, his son John and John’s daughter Anjelica. 3 Syphilis. 4 Political action committee. 5 A million to one (from HG Wells’s The War Of The Worlds). 6 European

bison. 7 Armenia and Azerbaijan. 8 Goldfi nger. 9 The group the Saturdays. 10 Plays in Harvey Fierstein’s Torch Song Trilogy. 11 Jumps in fi gure skating. 12 Played Winston Churchill on screen. 13 Cities on the river

Congo. 14 Sisters of Princess Diana. 15 Shows featuring Young British Artists.Scrabble See board right. Answer: PARADIGM. Crossword See board far right.

A

A

A

A

ABC

D D

D

D

EE

E

E

G

H

I

I

MO

O

P

P

R R R

T

TT

X

Y

Z

AG HENDY & CO HOME STORE KITCHEN

36 High Street, Hastings, 01424 447171. Sat & Sun only, noon-4.45pm (and by appointment for groups). Meal for two with drinks and service, around £100.

FOOD 8/10

ATMOSPHERE 8/10

VALUE FOR MONEY

5/10

A L D A G U E R N I C AC U C P O N UH O B N O B S N A T A LI A V H A O DL O I R E V A L L E YL N W D O JE Q U I T Y A S T U T ES N G O E N

G R A N D C A N Y O NS U R E R E IP S E U D S O L O M O NA N E S E E GM A T A N Z A S O N E S


SPACE


MIND & RELATIONSHIPS

This column will change your lifeStop moaning about moaners, says Oliver Burkeman

Sorry to moan, but have you seen the bad press complainers have been getting lately? Sometimes – hey, don’t back away, I want you to listen! – it

seems as if you can’t open a lifestyle magazine, or self-help book, without being lectured on the importance of avoiding whiners. According to one typical piece, from the American business magazine Inc , spending 30 minutes with a complainer literally destroys your brain, “peel[ing] away neurons in the brain’s hippocampus”. Yes, you read that correctly. Just half an hour listening to a colleague complaining – about the broken offi ce printer, say, or the aggravating popularity of simplistic brain-based explanations for complex mental phenomena – will turn you into a zombie. Complaining, says British-born entrepreneur Trevor Blake, whose new book, Three Simple Steps , is the source of that neuron-peeling claim, is “a cultural disease in the western world”. You owe it to yourself to use protection.

This latest angle on the curse of moaning involves some rather liberal extrapolations from the work of the neuroscientist Robert Sapolsky , about neural degeneration in the presence of “high stressors”. But I don’t mean to single Blake out. Self-help’s hostility to whiners – also known as “toxic people”, “energy vampires” and “life leeches” – is long-standing, reaching from its most new agey corners (one such title is Psychic Vampires : Protection From Energy Predators & Parasites) to its most science-heavy. And the advice is usually the same: get away from them, or screen them out. Blake cites a trick that golfer Seve Ballesteros apparently used when faced with a hostile crowd: “He imagined a bell jar no one could see, descending from the sky to protect him.”

Let’s be clear: there are people it’s best to block out. But the label of “complainer” is useless for identifying them, as it encompasses so much. If the complainer is your depressed close friend, you might choose to engage out of compassion, peeling neurons be damned. If it’s a spouse who relentlessly belittles you, “screening out” won’t work: you might have to leave. If your whining employee is whining about har assment, you’d better listen, not imagin e a bell jar . Even genuinely trivial complaining, as the psychologist Robin Kowalski points out in her book Complaining, Teasing And Other Annoying Behaviours , can serve as a conversational icebreaker. Besides, in condemning people as complainers, we’re dicing with the “fundamental attribution error”: when I do something obnoxious, it’s an understandable response to my situation, but when someone else [email protected]

does , it’s because of an obnoxious personality. But if your offi ce is full of moaners, maybe the problem’s not the moaners but the offi ce: the lights, the chairs, the lack of privacy.

The anti-whiner crowd, I think, are really target ing the subset known as “help-rejecting complainers”: people who seek advice, then spurn it, because their real motive is to prove they’re unhelpable. They’re playing the game Eric Berne, in his 1960s bestseller, Games People Play , called “yes, but”: off er a solution, and they’ll fi nd a reason to reject it. The right response is to refuse to play the game. Break the cycle by agreeing sympathetically. Or (and Blake does suggest this) ask : “What do you plan to do about it?” As for the other kind of complainer – the ordinary kind – you’ ll probably just have to learn tolerance. Because the technical term for them is “everybody”.

GK

IMA

GE

S.C

OM

; LO

CO

LE, B

OT

H F

OR

TH

E G

UA

RD

IAN

I feel as if I’m in the mid dle of a brutal initiation rite but, of course, I can’t let my patients see that. I try to be calm, patient, attentive. I hold a patient’s hand, spend time with the families, take time to explain what’s going on, and try to imagine what my patient is going through. But I can’t switch off . I dream about what could happen every night.

Believe it or not, medical school largely keeps you away from properly sick patients. So I’m thinking, am I really up to this? Hello, is there anyone around who can help me? “We’re just a bleep away, you won’t be alone in a situation for long ” they reassure us in our induction week. A few days in, and that’s exactly what happen s. With zero experience, I’m suddenly dealing with acutely ill people, out of hours and on my own. I’d like to think I could rely on other doctors, but I can’t – I often fi nd them arrogant and abrupt. Instead the nurses are my allies.

I wonder if the patients realise I’m new to the job. I think they’d be shocked if they knew; I had to spend almost an hour on my own in a frightening situation with a very ill young patient. I thought she was going to die on me. I begged two other doctors to help but they were busy with other sick patients. It was OK in the end and the patient survived, but it’s not an experience I’m ever going to forget. And I know it will happen again, too soon. Tell us what you’re really thinking at [email protected]

THE JUNI OR DOCTOR

What I’m really thinking


SPACE


Michael on Tien Before the date, what were you hoping for? Just to get through the date . First impressions? Great smile, good style . What did you talk about? The usual – family, food, work, travel, what we did at uni. We seemed to share an unusually similar interest in a lot of things. Any awkward moments? It all felt pretty natural.Good table manners? Very good . We both there sat there with bibs on eating a seafood platter. It was pretty funny. Best thing about her? The more unusual things we had in common stood out .Would you introduce h er to your friends? Defi nitely. She’d fi t right in .Could she meet the parents? No girl has met the m yet . Did you go on somewhere? Yes. And... did you kiss? On the cheek. If you could change one thing about the evening, what would it be? She was recovering from a sleep-deprived weekend at a festival a few days earlier so wasn’t feeling 100% . Marks out of 10? 8Would you meet again? We talked about it, and while I’d like to, I think the moment ’s passed .

Tien and Michael ate at Floripa , London EC2 , fl oripalondon.com.Fancy a blind date? Email [email protected]

Blind dateTien Nguyen, 24, music merchandiser, meets Michael Litman, 26, digital marketer

RELATIONSHIPSM

AR

TIN

AR

GLE

S; S

AR

AH

LE

E, B

OT

H F

OR

TH

E G

UA

RD

IAN

Tien on Michael Before the date, what were you hoping for? Good conversation, yummy food and someone with self-deprecating humour. First impressions? Friendly smile.What did you talk about? My terrible dancing, how bad he is at poker, food, movies, travelling, jobs – the usual guff . Any awkward moments? He took my photo and uploaded it on Instagram.Good table manners? Yes. He really knows how to rock a bib.Best thing about him? Cool specs.Would you introduce him to your friends? I suspect I nearly met his – halfway through the meal, he showed me a photo of us that a friend had sent him. Having a friend spy was strange . Showing me the picture was even stranger.Could he meet the parents? Not sure he’d be able to handle my tiger mum .Did you go on somewhere? Just for a quick drink .And... did you kiss? No .If you could change one thing about the evening, what would it be? That we had more in common .Marks out of 10? As bingo callers say, man alive – 5.Would you meet again? Probably not.


SPACE

Faking itFancy an instant New York-style exposed brick wall, elegant Georgian panelling, or a library of antique books? Then cheat. Styling by Sally Cullen. Pictures by Stephen Lenthall

STY

LIST

’S A

SSIS

TAN

T: J

ESS

ICA

ED

WA

RD

S


BathroomScrapwood wallpaper (ref PHE-8) by Piet Hein Eek, £199 /roll, from bodieandfou.com. Oak passionata fl ooring , £29.4 9/sq m, from quick-step.com. Cooke & Lewis Victoria bath , £299, from B&Q (diy.com) . Jar , £85, and apothecary jar , £29.95 for three, both from paleandinteresting.com.

KitchenBrick wallpaper (ref 21213), from £5.95 /1m roll, from decowall.co.uk. B2 work bench , from £5,500, from bulthaup.com. Kilve dish , £148, from rowenandwren.co.uk. Cook’s Collection pans , from £35, and chopping board , from £4, both from sainsburys.co.uk. ≥


SPACE


LibraryLibrary wallpaper (ref L04A-MULTI), £119.90 /10m roll, from andrewmartin.co.uk. Chesterfi eld leather armchair , £468, from tesco.com. Step wall unit , £ 39, from very.co.uk. Autograph task lamp , £199, from marksandspencer.com. Books, stylist’s own.

BedroomChesterfi eld button back wallpaper in grey, £70 for a 50 x 250cm roll, from mineheart.com. Belgravia chaise , from £785, from featherandblack.com. Arissa turned oak candlestick in ebony, £88, and Winkie candle holder , £26, both from rowenandwren.co.uk.

Dining roomPatterned Illusion 1 wallpaper , £185 /roll, from deborahbowness.com. Flooring , as before. Copenhagen table, £669; pair of Copenhagen chairs, £299; Home Collection 12-piece ribbed dinner set, £50; and Tu candelabra, £16; all from sainsburys.co.uk .Jansen & Co cake stand , £33.49, from scp.co.uk.

GARDENS

Head gardener Bo Stills has a lot on his mind. Slugs have been a problem this year, there are prize vegetables to be

chosen for show and he’s wondering if there’s space for the soft fruits he wants to plant. Nothing unusual there, until you realise that Bo is eight and the garden he tends is on a school roof in Tower Hamlets.

Bo and his fellow gardeners attend Chisenhale primary school , one of nearly 16,000 that have registered for the RHS Campaign for School Gardening which is celebrating its fi fth anniversary this month .

The benefi ts of school gardening range from improved behaviour to healthier eating habits, but the RHS had a more specifi c aim . “The charity was worried about the loss of gardening skills,” says Claire Custance, RHS strategic development manager, “and we wanted to ensure these were transferred to the younger generation . What’s more, most young people don’t see gardening as a career to be proud of .”

The campaign off ers gardening resources and teaching plans, which are free to access and show schools how a garden can be used as a teaching tool across all subjects. There is also an emphasis on skills, from experienced regional advisers running staff training sessions, to schools getting parents up

to speed with Get Your Grown-ups Growing events.

Do you know what an African keyhole garden is? If not, ask pupils at Heronsbridge school in Bridgend . Children at this special needs school have built one and give visitors tours of their orchard, kitchen garden and wilderness area as part of the National Garden Scheme (ngs.org.uk) . Students from the school won a silver gilt medal at the

Chelsea Flower Show last year for a garden designed with horticultural adviser Anthea Guthrie.

In Dew sbury, North Yorkshire, Year 6 children at Overthorpe school have been working with Doug Baker, their outdoor learning mentor, to bring history lessons alive. Why simply read about life during the second world war when you can build your own Anderson shelter and Dig For Victory with heritage vegetables you’ve grown yourself? And surely stories of Viking life are better told in your own Viking pit house whose roof you’ve turfed.

But whil e Heronsbridge and Overthorpe are fortunate in having

plenty of land, the campaign is aimed at all schools – even those with little outside space .

Bo’s school grounds are, in the words of his headteacher Helen James, “so tiny and so concrete” that it might seem madness to begin a garden here. But, using containers, Chisenhale grows a huge range of crops, from carrots and spinach to wheat which they have made into bread. Pumpkins have been tricky, encroaching on to the playground, but despite resembling orange footballs, not one was damaged, which James puts down to the children’s pride in their environment. As Lili, aged

DO

UG

LA

S B

AK

ER

; CA

SSIE

LIV

ER

SID

GE

; ALL

ISO

N R

OW

LA

ND

S; L

OG

AN

WA

NG

An RHS drive to bring gardening into schools is reaping a rich harvest, says Dawn Isaac

The school gardens at Overthorpe in Dewsbury (above) and Chisenhale in Tower Hamlets (above, right); the

Heronsbridge bug hotel, Bridgend (left)

How does your garden grow?


How to set up and run a successful school garden 1 Get the head and teachers on side to make sure the garden is part of the school development plan and seen as a key curriculum resource. 2 Develop an annual plan that fi ts the school year: growing crops that can be harvested before or after holidays and planning maintenance over the long summer break. 3 Ensure school gardening doesn’t rely on the enthusiasm of a single person – setting up a small group will ensure continuity. 4 Start with a few simple crops you can harvest quickly to get children and staff excited about growing.

WALLFLOWER ‘WINTER JOY’

What is it? There’s nothing like the warm, spicy scent of a wallfl ower wafting around a spring garden. The mauve blooms of Erysimum cheiri ‘Winter Joy’ set against the foil of grey-green foliage are a cut above the rest. Expect it to fl ower from March to June if it’s happy.Plant it with? You can’t go wrong teaming wallfl owers with tulips: the deep purple ‘Caravelle’ ( guardiangardencentre.co.uk/plant-1008091–1/15-tulip-palestrina/) or the purple-pink ‘Abigail’ ( guardiangardencentre.co.uk/plant-1006244–1/15-tulip-abigail/) . Or plant in a pot or window box with violas and trailing ivy. The height and spread is about 60cm x 50cm, but plant close together and they’ll support each other as they grow.And where? Full sun and poor, fast-draining soil (ideally alkaline) . As the name suggests, they love being planted in and on walls .Any drawbacks? There’s a bit of work to be done before the fl owers arrive – you’ll need to pot these plug plants on, grow them somewhere frost-free, then acclimatise them to the outdoors before planting out.What else does it do? ‘Winter Joy’ doesn’t need deadheading – phew. Plus you can cut the blooms to bring inside and enjoy the scent.Buy it Order four 50mm plug plants for £12.99, or eight for £18.99 (including free p&p). Call 0330 333 6856, quoting ref GUA694. Or shop online at guardian.co.uk/off ers/plants . Delivery from October . Jane Perrone

Plant of the week

fi ve, says: “I like standing back after I have done a job and seeing how pretty the garden looks.”

The skills learn ed stretch beyond the classroom, with an after-school family gardening club proving so popular that the original one -hour activity regularly runs for three .

The children use their garden in literacy, maths, science and geography. Each class has its own container and elects a head gardener, like Bo, responsible for its maintenance. And if the RHS needs further evidence that its campaign is on the right track, just ask Bo why he was elected. His answer is simple: “ Because I really wanted the job.”

5 Plan for fundraising so the garden becomes self-sustaining. 6 Try to involve families: send produce home with children to be cooked and eaten or ask for help building the garden. 7 Look to the wider community: approach local businesses and groups for help in giving time or providing resources. 8 Make sure the children are involved at all stages, from planning and designing to harvesting and tasting, so they learn new skills and feel the garden is really theirs. Schools can register free for the campaign at rhs.org.uk/schoolgardening .


SPACE

For reader offers, please visit: www.sofa.com/guardor call FREE on 0800 988 6690

caution:may cause drowsiness

Autumn sale now on

Cambridge3 seater sofa

was £1199 now

£899

sofasofaFor our cataloguecall 01495 244226or visit www.sofasofa.co.uk


GARDENS

Alys FowlerIt’s easy to colour in your shaded areas

There’s a strict hierarchy of shade. The damp, dappled shade of a deciduous tree with a thick layer of leaf mould is nirvana; the

dry, parched shade of a building shadow or a monster leylandii quite the opposite.

There are a few plants prepared to take on the challenges of dry shade. Geranium phaeum , known as the mourning widow, will grow in the dry, shallow soils of tree roots, though her name alone tells you she’s a doleful sort. The more cheery, white-fl owered G. phaeum ‘Album’ will bring light to dark corners. Likewise, Liriope muscari , with its spires of purple beaded fl owers, tolerates hot, dry sites. So will Vinca minor , the lesser periwinkle, slightly less of a thug than its cousin, V. major, the greater periwinkle . These are the safe choices beloved of offi ce plantings, but if you work at your soil, there are other options.

Add a mixture of homemade compost and leaf mould. Gather grass cuttings from neighbours, sweep up leaves on the street, shred bills and collect scraps: your compost bin will convert dry shade into rich soil suited to woodland fl owers. Spread on a thick layer in early spring, and add a handful or two of well-rotted compost to every planting hole.

As for plants, stick to the true woodlanders, starting with a layer of bulbs such as snowdrops or Anemone nemorosa . Both are adapted for the deep summer shade of trees, making the most of the light in spring. They will do equally well in the shade of a building.

Next, establish some ground cover, because exposed soil dries out quickly. Duchesnea indica , the false strawberry, is an evergreen perennial with jolly yellow fl owers and edible berries ( see my 27 July column on edible ground cover for more : guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/ 2012/jul/27/alys-fowler-edible-ground-cover ). Add a few epimediums, easygoing plants with tiny lemon yellow or red fl owers peeping over evergreen heart-shaped leaves. Next try bleeding hearts, ( Lamprocapnos , formerly Dicentra spectabilis) , plus Lady’s mantle ( Alchemilla mollis ) and sweet cicely ( Myrrhis odorata ) for a soft green theme. For height, plant Thalictrum delavayi with its ethereal white fl owers, and Anemone sylvestris for late summer colour.

Finally, add as many foxgloves as you see fi t. The common foxglove Digitalis purpurea (in purple or the pure white ‘Alba’) or the dusky pink Digitalis x mertonensis will tolerate dry or damp shade and lift your eye while the early spring plants are dying back.

We have a large Jerusalem artichoke bed. They grow like trees and last year did a sunfl ower routine with yellow fl owers . The artichokes seem to be getting smaller but I want to leave them where they are. Would it help the tubers to grow if we chopped the heads

off the plants at this stage? Chop the fl owers off if you wish, as a lot of energy is directed to

fl owering rather than swelling the roots. I cut back the tops around July, particularly of the front row. This means they

don’t overshadow other plants, and I fi nd short plants survive

autumn winds much better. I like the fl owers, so I sacrifi ce the back row and let these fl ower. In early spring sift through the remaining tubers. Be ruthless and eat up or chuck out all the smaller tubers , keeping only the plumpest for next winter’s crop: even fragments will reshoot into plants. Keep

only tubers the size of an egg and replant them 45cm apart in each direction. ( The smaller ones I make into chutney : guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/gardening-blog/2011/nov/09/jerusalem-artichoke-chutney-alys-fowler) . Do you have a question for Alys? Email [email protected]

AL

AM

Y (2

)

ASK ALYS


SPACE

Let’s move to… Harlesden and Old Oak Common – it’s aspiring to be The Next Big Place What’s going for it? The common in question is more steel than oak , a curling mass of sidings and railway sheds which, one day, will metamorphose into the centre of the blooming universe to become the main London interchange between High Speed Two from The North and Crossrail . Harlesden has been quietly preparing for its moment in the sun. It has aspirations for the fi rst time since it was built in the 19th century, when the future was steam-powered. Brent Council appears to have invested in bollards and the odd patch of paving. Stonebridge estate, which once had a “reputation”, has gone, replaced by terraces and front gardens. People call Harlesden “the new Acton”, as it rubs shoulders with loftier suburbs, such as Queen’s Park and Kensal Rise. It is only a matter of time, they say, before this dusty corner becomes The Next Big Place. For now, Harlesden is neatened up, but still a riotous mash-up of Portuguese caff s beside proper Irish pubs . When The North does arrive en masse, I can think of no fi ner welcome to The Smoke.The case against Public transport is great, but the place itself is on a weird urban peninsula, cut off by those sidings, Park Royal factories, and the North Circular.Well connected? Willesden Junction and Harlesden on the lovely Bakerloo Line, nipping you to central London in 20 minutes. Plus the overground to Euston and Watford and the w eirdly wonderful North London Line from Richmond to the East End. Schools Primaries: Brentfi eld , Mitchell Brook , Leopold and Newfi eld are all “good”, notes Ofsted. Secondaries: Convent of Jesus and Mary , Newman Catholic College and Capital City Academy are all “good”, too.

Hang out at… Jamaican Jerk Chicken Caribbean Take -Away. Rice and peas for me.Where to buy Beware places passing off as posher Willesden or Kensal Rise, especially leafi er spots like the avenues of large, 1920s semis near Roundwood Park. I hereby declare Harlesden to begin south of the cemetery and Roundwood Park, and west of the sports centre. Market values Semis, £450,000-£850,000 . Terraces, £325,000-£450,000 , up to £600,000 in posher areas. Flats: three-bed period conversions, £260,000-£360,000; two beds, £205,000-£315,000; one bed , £180,000-£235,000.Bargain of the week Three-bed terrace, close to the North Circular, but close to Ikea, too , £299,950, with Haart (haart.co.uk) . Tom Dyckhoff Live in Harlesden? Join the debate at guardian.co.uk/letsmoveto

FROM THE STREETS

Michael Goss “Harlesden has London’s best Galician tapas bar, Centro Galego de Londres , situated between Harlesden and Old Oak Common. Plus Gostosa Pizzeria . ” Sophie Rena “Up and coming, but not come yet. The high street is being pedestrianised, though, so maybe next year .” Do you live in Beaminster? Do you have a favourite haunt or a pet hate? If so, please write, by next Tuesday, to [email protected]

GR

AH

AM

TU

RN

ER

FO

PR T

HE

GU

AR

DIA

N

IN THE COUNTRY

Nambol, near St Keverne, Cornwall. £550,000. Jackson Stops and Staff jackson-stops.co.uk . Because... It’s in 0.25 acres of valley gardens with a spring running through. The enormous living room is softened by beams and an inglenook.It’s a shame that... If you want a fourth bedroom you must sacrifi ce the second reception and sleep off the kitchen/breakfast room.

AROUND TOWN

St Ann’s Place, New King Street, Bath. £350,000 Hamptons hamptons.co.uk .

Because... It’s a three-bedroom duplex in a Georgian building set in a courtyard of mews houses with parking.It’s a shame that... There’s no garden. The bedrooms are on the lower ground fl oor.

WRECK OF THE WEEK

Kearsney, near Dover, Kent. £300,000. Tersons (tersons.com) . What? A six-

bedroom detached 1930s house.Condition £75,000 to renew electrics, windows and to install heating.Why you should There’s planning permission for a detached house alongside it .Why you shouldn’t It’s on a private road so residents have to share the cost of upkeep. Anna Tims

Snooping around


SPACE


ON THE ROAD

Sam Wollaston‘I’ve made more friends through the Twizy than I have through the baby’

We’ve lived where we do for more than fi ve years now, but don’t really know

anybody round here. Well, we didn’t until recently; then a couple of things changed that. First we had ourselves a baby, and suddenly we knew half the street. Then I g ot a Renault Twizy for the weekend, and suddenly we knew the other half.

I think I’ve made more friends through the Twizy in a couple of days than I have with the baby in six months. It’s like one of those tests magazines sometimes do – what’s a better pulling tool, a baby, a puppy or a Twizy? I’m not sure about actually pulling (and anyway, I’m not interested obviously, being very happy with the mother of the baby), but a Twizy is a good ice-breaker.

Everyone wants to stop and chat. What the bloody hell is that, they

want to know – a vacuum cleaner, a printer cartridge, a roller skate, Wenlock ? (From behind, it does look a bit like Wenlock, or possibly Mande ville.)

What it is is Renault’s new urban electric vehicle , with room for two (the passenger goes behind), a range of about 60 miles and a top speed of 50mph. You can’t really call it a car – it doesn’t have windows, and even the doors are optional. It’s a go-kart, basically, with a roof. It’s a bit like a go-kart to drive, too, quick around the corners and fun, if a bit fi rm on the bumps. Ow!

I make more new friends on the road. As a famous motoring journalist, I’ve driven a lot of fancy cars, but none has created a stir like this. It’s like being a celebrity. And the response is almost universally positive. It’s like being a celebrity people actually like. It’s like being Clare Balding , I imagine.

There are problems; the usual

ones associated with electric vehicles. If you don’t have off -street parking – as most people don’t in cities, where these cars belong – you can’t charge them at home. I can’t charge at work , either, so I’d have to go somewhere else, and sit around for three and a half hours while it charges up. Which is clearly useless. I can’t even fi gure out where these places are, because the map of charge places I download is also useless. Suddenly the lovable Twizy is looking like an expensive toy.

There’s another problem. It starts to rain, proper British rain. It’s not so bad for me up front, but ’er indoors (well, outdoors) in the back, trying to balance two shopping bags on her knee, is getting soaked. The omission of windows is starting to look like an error. Fine on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice maybe, not fi ne in Angleterre. And it’s not even winter. Luckily, we left the baby with one of our new friends.

RENAULT TWIZY

Price From £6,690Top speed 50mph Acceleration, 0-60mph NoRange 60 milesCO2 emissions 0Green rating 9/10Cool rating 9/10Practicality rating 2/10

SIM

ON

ST

UA

RT-

MIL

LER

FO

R T

HE

GU

AR

DIA

N (2

)


Tri ple letter Double letter Trip le word Double word

PUZZLES

1 Where did Larry register his fi rst kill in August? 2 Which was the fi rst family to have three generations of Oscar winners? 3 The Wassermann reaction was designed to test for what? 4 In US politics, what is a PAC? 5 What were “the chances against anything manlike on Mars”? 6 Wisent is another name for what animal? 7 Which states dispute Nagorno-Karabakh? 8 Stoke Poges golf course featured in which Bond fi lm?

What links: 9 Mollie King; Una Healy; Rochelle Wiseman; Frankie Sandford; Vanessa White? 10 International Stud; Fugue In A Nursery; Widows And Children First!? 11 Toe loop; Axel; Flip; Lutz; Salchow? 12 CM Hallard (fi rstly, in 1935); Simon Ward; Timothy Spall; Albert Finney; Robert Hardy? 13 Kisangani; Mbandaka; Kinshasa; Brazzaville; Boma? 14 Lady Sarah McCorquodale and Lady Jane Fellowes? 15 Brilliant!; Freeze; Sensation; Modern Medicine?

THE QUIZ, BY THOMAS EATON

A1

A1

A1

O1

O1

B3

P3

C3

D2

D2

D2

D2

R1

R1

E1

E1

E1

E1

T1

T1

T1

G2

H4

I1

I1

X8

Y4

Z10

SCRABBLE, BY STEWART HOLDEN

Crossword, Scrabble and the QuizAnswers on page 83

A1A

1P

3R

1E

1U

1M

3

With the rack of letters (right), fi nd a way to score 48 points in one move

GU

AR

DIA

N@

STE

WA

RT

HO

LDE

N.N

AM

E

AL

AM

YSC

RA

BB

LE™

IS A

RE

GIS

TE

RE

D T

RA

DE

MA

RK

OF

JW

SPE

AR

S &

SO

NS

LTD

, UN

DE

R L

ICE

NC

E F

RO

M M

AT

TE

L E

UR

OPA

BV,

A S

UB

SID

IAR

Y

OF

MA

TT

EL

INC

, © M

AT

TE

L 20

09.

ALL

WO

RD

S T

O B

E F

OU

ND

IN C

OLL

INS

SCR

AB

BLE

WO

RD

S 20

12 E

DIT

ION

GENERAL KNOWLEDGE CROSSWORD, BY SY

Across1 Alan ...., star of the TV sitcom M*A*S*H (4)3 1937 Picasso painting about a Basque village bombed by German and Italian forces (8)9 Biscuits made by McVitie’s (7)10 Former province of South Africa (5)11 Picturesque stretch of French river on which Nantes, Orléans and Tours are found (5,6)13 Trade union representing actors (6)15 HMS ......, nuclear submarine ; its name means “clever” (6)17 Gorge cut by Colorado river (5,6)20 Pretentious person

consigned to a corner of Private Eye (5)21 ....... Grundy, born on Monday and buried on Sunday (7)22 C apital of Cuban province whose name means “massacre” (8)23 The Young ...., 1961 musical , 80s sitcom (4)Down1 C haracter in Homer’s Iliad, whose weakness was his heel (8)2 City /emirate in United Arab Emirates (5)4 Dawn ......, opera singer best known for her vocals on the 1993 recording of Górecki’s Symphony Number 3 (6)5 Cartoonist best known for his St Trinian’s and

Molesworth drawings (6,6)6 He’s Just Not That .... ..., 2009 movie starring Ben Affl eck and Jennifer Aniston (4,3)7 .... Lang Syne, poem by Robert Burns (4)8 Area of London associated with Royal Opera House (6,6)12 Waylon ........ (1937–2002), American country music singer (8)14 Soothing preparation spread on wounds (7)16 Crimean port, home to the stairs seen in Battleship Potemkin (6)18 Country in Middle East, capital Sana ’a (5)19 Unwanted mail, usually electronic (4)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

8

9 10

11

12

13 14 15

16

17 18

19

20 21

22 23


Next topic: Windswept (to appear 6 October). Email a hi-res image (one per entry; all submissions must be your own work), plus a sentence describing your photo and a daytime phone number, to in.pictures@ guardian.co.uk by noon on Wednesday 25 September (conditions apply – see guardian.co.uk/theguardian/ weekend/in-pictures-terms-and- conditions). To suggest a future theme, email [email protected]

Your picturesThis week’s theme: layers

1 Tatiana Heise“I spotted these sheep in north Wales. The telephoto made them appear to be standing on top of one another, but they were in fact quite happy .”

2 Amy Moran“Climbing the layers in the rice paddies, Ubud, Bali.”

3 Peter Jackson & Hannah Mackay“The Gum Wall at Pike Place Market, Seattle – the sickly-sweet smell greets you before you reach the alleyway .”

4 Chas Hallett“Taken at Norbiton station while waiting for the train to Waterloo. ”

BACK

1

2

3 4

Weekend_282012-09-22_29

Documents

Transcript of Weekend_282012-09-22_29