Fire and Stone Pizzeria

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It’s end of the month and I can’t wait until payday.

However I want date night in the City with le husband on a Friday night.

Enter Fire and Stone pizzeria. Located in Covent Garden, it’s their flagship restaurant (there is one in Westfield Hammersmith too), set over over floors.

They were running a special – £15 for 2 courses and a glass of processo, so the bargain hunter that I am, I was very keen to check it out.

The place was buzzing, decor was awesome, and the service was ace. I had a blue cheese & walnut Baby leaf spinach salad, sliced apple, red onion & mustard dressing, and Justin had Hand stretch parmesan flatbread Crushed garlic, rosemary & olive oil, as starters, both of which were delicious. For mains I had a Rustic tomato pasta, and Justin had the Florence pizza.

They aren’t kidding when they say that their pizza is ‘topped with with authentic flavour combinations’ – the Florence pizza was unlike any I have ever tasted – the combination of pepperoni, basil pesto and olives was amazing!

They are running their promotion again, check it out here and book. Alternatively, pop into either their Covent Garden or Westfiled branch.


I don’t need a gym induction to tell me I’m unfit…

Yeah, its gonna snow in August, because, I, purveyor of all things unhealthy (pizza, burgers, beers, chocolate, tirasmisu, you name it, I love it) have joined a gym.

A new health centre has opened up the road from our place, and my husband somehow roped me into joining. It’s quite pricey so now I HAVE to go. So, last Saturday we went to Sports Direct and I bought some workout clothes.

Last night was our induction.. at our old gym, the induction consisted of just being shown around the gym and how to use the equipment.

This gym, however, had something a little different in mind. All dressed up in our gym clothes, off we went for our appointment at 7pm, thinking it will just be about 30 minutes. So, no, we did not bring water bottles. Something I profoundly regret after being on a cross trainer for 15 minutes. I looked over at my husband who was on the treadmill, the poor boy looked how I felt – unfit and exhausted.

We had to do an array of exercises, and I was not mentally prepared for it. Planks, weights, and legs (one leg exercise made me think I was tearing something in my body!). The gym instructor did a very good job at encouraging us two unhealthy, unfit clients! I was told to do 3 days a week – cardio every day and tummy exercises, then legs on one day and arms on the other, with a class called Power Pump on the third day. However, it would help if the Power Pump class wasn’t at 9.30 on weekdays. But Im secretly glad I can’t attend because the description reads: ‘A group exercise class using bar bells and hand weights. It’s intense!’.. and I do not like intense.

I have to say, the gym is amazing – its so new and big and light! There is even a pool. Of course, I probably need to get in shape before I actually get into that pool.

In the end I came home and had fermented grapes in a glass to reward myself.

Here is a link to the gym.

Cauliflower crust pizza


I love pizza. I can eat it all day, every day. But, its not super kind to my hips. I had seen a friend post pictures of cauliflower crust pizza a while back and thought ‘Surely, that must taste gross.’ But yesterday I decided to try making it, and Justin was playing good husband by helping with the process (I think he was very curious), and I must say, it was delicious. No, its not ‘real’ pizza, but the toppings manage to carry the taste. Its seriously worth a try!

Because it was a test run, I did not actually take pictures of the process, but Im making it again this weekend, so I will update this post again then.

Time: 45mins

Serves: 2

– 2 heads of cauliflower
– Passatta
– Mozzarella
– 1 egg
– 2 cloves for garlic, pressed
– Frylight cooking spray
– 1tb spoon of garlic powder
– 1tb spoon of mixed herbs

Preparation (crust):
1. Coarsely chop the florets, and either grate it or put it in a food processor, until you get powdery, breadcrumby cauliflower.

2. Put that in the microwave for about 4-5 minutes.

3. Here is the trickier part – after the mixture has cooled down enough, wrap it up in the dish towel and wring it, in order to squeeze out as much water as possible. This way, the crust wont crumble.

4. Put the spices, garlic and the egg in, and stir until it has all become a dough-like mixture.

5. Lay it out on a baking tray, which has been sprayed with Fry Light, and mould it to the desired shape.

6. Put it in the oven at 210C/420F/Gas mark 7 for about 20 minutes (keep checking it), or until light brown.

8. Take it out and put spoonfuls of passata on the crust (to taste), sprinkle the grated cheese and any other topping you like, and put it back in the oven for a further 5-10 minutes (depending on taste, but 5 minutes was enough for mine).


The day my husband peroxided his hair…

Long ago, before we even met, my husband had peroxided his hair, and he looked good. He wanted to do it again, and we have been meaning to for ages, so I bought him peroxide and a nice share of blonde to put over that, and promised him I will do it this weekend for him.

Not one for patience, he was really keen to do it on Friday night. On a Friday, I am so tired, not only from a week of work but also from cooking, cleaning, and so on, so all I want to do is chill at home with a glass of vino. I had gone to the city for my colleague’s birthday drinks, and had stopped off in Balham for a burger and some more drinks with my husband, so I was already tired when we got home, wanting to put my feet up and watch the football.

I was so relaxed, that I fell asleep on the couch. At some point, my wonderful husband woke me, to get me to go downstairs to bed. I vaguely remember seeing tinfoil on his head, but I was so sleepy, I didn’t care. I now regret this.

Yesterday morning, my husband woke me (but I refused to open my eyes because 10am on a Saturday is WAY too early for me) and said, “I need you to help me.”

“Why? What now?” I enquired.

“Look at me, dudie,” he whinged.

My eyes immediately opened, picturing a huge wound and sitting in A&E for hours.

What I actually saw cannot be described adequately, but I will try. His hair was a light share of orange. To make matters worse, his sides were still their lovely brown colour. It looked… arty.

All of a sudden I had flashbacks of him walking around the house with tinfoil on his head, and finally realised what had occurred. I sighed, “Why did you have to do it last night without me?”

“Well, it’s not my fault you go to bed at 10pm on a Friday night,” he whinged. “I even went out and bought Vaseline for my head, so I don’t stain my face,” he explained proudly. “But I forgot to do the sides, and when I finally realised I hadn’t done them, I tried to scrape off what was left in my mixing bowl-”

I suddenly sat up in bed, thinking, I do not own a mixing bowl for hair dye.

“Wait, back up, what mixing bowl?” I enquired worriedly. I knew that late at night, he might be able to buy Vaseline, but NOT a mixing bowl, so logic dictates that he used one of my salad bowls.

“My mixing bowl, dudie,” he said, looking very confused.

“Where did you get said mixing bowl, Justin?”

“I don’t know, from where all our bowls are in the kitchen cupboard.”

I closed my eyes and repeated I love my husband three times, counted to ten and got out of bed, Justin trailing behind me, not one for missing the opportunity to whinge.

As I walked up the stairs, I was filled with horror – it looked like hairdressers had thrown a party up there. There were towels on every couch (not even draped, just dumped there), and our coffee table was cover in peroxide powder, scissors, foil, and his ‘Vaseline’, which turned out to be ‘Glosheen’s Corn Rows Scalp Treatment with Coconut’.

I almost had heart failure when I turned to the kitchen counter and found my salad bowl, containing peroxide, with my wooden spoon (the very spoon I use to cook Justin his dinner), also covered in peroxide.

“Oh my God, Justin, what the heck have you done?” I turned to him, ready for a fight.

As the day progressed, I found out that he applied the peroxide upstairs in the kitchen and NOT in the bathroom because ‘it made sense, dude’, and some peroxide was now on his shorts (he only has about three pairs of shorts anyways), which he said he will still wear out cos ‘it looks cool’ (he was clearly in the denial stage). I also found out that he had left a treatment out for me to apply on his hair – sadly, when I looked at the label, it was actually more peroxide.

After having three cups of coffee, I took the blonde shade I bought him and applied that. It made a little bit of a difference but he was still quite upset, so I was made to go to Superdrug to get some gentian violet. I couldn’t find it anywhere in our little local Superdrug, and I saw an assistant, so I approached her for help. The conversation went something like this:

“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me. My husband peroxided his hair and now I need a toner to take out the orange and make it blonde,” I said, matter-of-factly, not embarrassed at all, because I knew if she had a significant other, she would understand that men constantly do stupid shit.

“Uh, ok, lets see what we have,” she said and ushered me to the dye isle.

We debated for quite a while, and, as there was nothing suitable, I just got more peroxide. I came home and was given a talking to because ‘how could they not have gentian violet, I bet you just didn’t see it, you are sabotaging me, you are enjoying this’. We put some more peroxide but just for about five minutes, and, I must say, after washing it out, it looked much better, but it still had an orangeish tinge.

This morning, Justin woke up and declared that we will be dyeing his hair back to brown today. This whole experience has cost me about £20 that I could have used for us to go out when we are in Bulgaria, and I just pray his hair does not fall out.

At least it made everybody laugh, but I can’t help but think – if he can do so much damage to our apartment and his hair while I’m asleep downstairs, what will he do when I’m not there??


Best TV title sequences of 2013/2014 (so far)

Because of my husband’s profession as an editor, as well as my intermediate editing training, I’m always looking at the way a trailer/ title sequence has been edited. So I just thought I’d share the most kick-ass ones Ive found…

True Detective

HBO’s True Detective – Main Title Sequence from Patrick Clair on Vimeo.

Black Sails

Black Sails: Main Title Sequence from Caleb Woods on Vimeo.

Masters of Sex

“Masters of Sex” from Elastic on Vimeo.



Orange Is the New Black

Les Revenants (The Returned)



So, my dear friend Cat got married at the beginning of May in South Africa. I couldn’t go, but she did a wedding party for friends here in the UK and we were invited to Birmingham last weekend for the shindig.

I’m really keen to check out lots of places on the island, as I’ve only ever been to Brighton and Corby, so I decided to do a post about it.


Im really cheap when it comes to accommodation – I just want a bed, a toilet and a shower. So I booked us a room at the Ibis Holloway Circus, which is a ten minute walk from Birmingham New Street rail station. The hotel looked like a little lodge, it was really cute, and also had the much-needed coffee-making facilities. Everything was as advertised, and everything worked (ok, well the shower only did mega hot and freezing cold, but of well), and it was only £42 per night!


There was also a cute lil’ bar in the reception and everyone was so friendly. Im pretty chuffed it wasn’t like our honeymoon.

The train tickets were pretty cheap too – I paid £7.50 each way for two people advance. I didn’t think the Virgin train was that good, because on the East Midlands train, they come with a cart and you can buy snacks and drinks, but on this train you have to go to God-knows which carriage, which annoyed me a little but oh well.

Cat met us at the station and, after we put our shite in the hotel, we headed for BrewDog. Nope, I didn’t know we had them in London, so I acted like I’d just stepped inside the Savoy. I obviously had a Punk IPA, can never go wrong with that. I was also so hungry, that I forgot to take a picture of my hotdog. But it was delicious and amazing. Cat also got us ‘beer cupcakes’ with Ozzy’s face on em! Anyways, I love that place. Its quite crowded and its not easy to eat on the tiny tables, but its amazing nevertheless.


For the night’s festivities we went to The Old Library, at The Custard Factory, which is situated in Digbeth, Birmingham’s creative quarter. I’d really have liked to go back in the morning and browse all the shops, but someone had a hangover to sleep off.

The wedding party itself was pretty amazing, and I made some awesome new friends.


Unfortunately, as previously mentioned someone had a hangover to sleep off, so I didn’t even go to the Bullring, but I did drive past it and took a photos.

We will back in Birmies in no time and then I will explore waaaay more.

Off to Birmies

… as I so fondly call it.

I’ve been told it isn’t the nicest place in the world, but I intend to have a good time and have my own opinion of Birmingham.

After finishing a website we are launching on Monday at work yesterday, I decided to go and visit bestie. I feel really bad for her boyfriend, who not only had a toothache, but had to endure HOURS of our chinwagging. We hadn’t seen each other in two weeks, and needed a loooong catchup. I was also fed, which is always a bonus to going to Roxanne’s house (the woman can cook, yoooh!).

Today we have joined a gym (gasp), and we are going to start making our way to Euston shortly. Cannot wait to see my friend Cat, its been too long.

Stay tuned for my review of Birmies.