life etc.

Baklava tales and Marilyn moments

Today I really wanted a baklava, I’d been wanting one since I had it two weeks ago from Waitrose. But today I really, really REALLY wanted one and I was determined to get one by any means necessary. I’m a pretty determined woman when I want something whether its a cupcake, a handbag or Lovehearts…all three different elements which have varying degrees of importance in my life, but the bottom line is I’m a go getter, I want and I go get. Today’s want was a Baklava and nothing was going to stand in my way of getting one.

One of my favourite things to do on a Saturday is to hang out on the Kings Road, either take in an exhibition at the Saatchi gallery, shop or buy my favourite Jamaican meal; curry goat and rice with run downs or a pattie, cop a squat and eat whilst indulging in a good book or listening to music or just doing nothing, I love it there, its so unexpected and cool. Today however, mother nature had other plans of her own. Other grand and very wet plans. No sooner had I bought my lunch than the grey, swollen skies let rip an almighty wail, which killed the buzz of my routine. It rained down angrily, as if we were being punished for something we did or didn’t do. Big, thick drops fell hard and fast…it was a legendary rainfall with all the elements; thunder, lightening, wind, that had us all cowering. And as the wicked winds blew, up my dress flew. No thanks for the solidarity in helping preserve some dignity Mother Nature. It rained and rained and rained and we thought it would never stop. Putting my Baklava dream on pause, I sought shelter beneath a bus stand, barely, outside an M&S. I waited there for ten minutes before dashing down to Waitrose in search of this much needed Baklava, I could already taste it. I all but skipped to the bakery section once I made it safely into Waitrose.

But…STOP. SHOCK. HORROR. An accident happened in the bakery aisle. My Baklava was smack, bang in the middle and the area was cordoned off so I couldn’t get to them. I could see them and they could see me but we just couldn’t be together. Life sucks!!

Then hope sprung when I remembered that M&S also make Baklava, (I already did the, duh!) I dashed back down to the M&S where I’d been standing earlier and scoured the shelves like a lunatic for 20 agonising minutes until an attendant took pity on me and inquired as to what I was after.

“Baklava. Please tell me you have some.”

‘Sorry ma’am but we stopped doing those.”

Bloody hell! “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Even so, I looked around once more to satisfy my curiosity…this was a conspiracy against me. Surely.

And in the aisles of lovely M&S I got an Aha! moment; Harvey Nics has a Baklava bar…of course they do. I legged it to the bus stop, I must have run a mile by now and stood impatiently waiting for the bus. I must have irritated everyone with my constant fidgeting; tapping my feet, craning my neck looking out for the bus as if this was a matter of life and death, (well to me it very nearly was) only to be told by a good samaritan passerby that the rain caused some kerfuffle so buses were not making it down to my end of the road just yet. I had one of those Miranda Priestley moments; its just a drizzle of rain, a touch of thunder and sparkle of lightening. Seriously! WTF?! My inner child threw a tantrum but I couldn’t give up. Not now, I’ll much rather be damned. I walked, all the way to Harvey Nichols in pouring rain, battling the elements as I flashed all of London along the way, my brolly had lost the battle against the wind, my shoes goodness knows they were struggling to keep up and my hair…forget about it. But I was a woman on a Baklava mission.

Eventually, I got to Harvey Nics, 5th floor food-market, Baklava section and there they were…ah.

Nothing ever tasted so good. My best friend had the audacity to ask for a bite and with a straight face, I said; HELL NO. This was one set of calories I wasn’t willing to share. I may have lost the battle against Mother Nature but I do believe won the war and that is all that matters.

It was worth every agonising, traumatising moment. Sweet Success.