Easter Weekend Round-up

Hello again! So much has been happening and I want to get you all caught up and current with all the stories and happenings before my MUMMY and DADDY arrive on Thursday and the fun really begins.

Easter Weekend started quietly - I was still aware of my physical limitations, given all the excitement and medical complications of the week before, I just went to church on Good Friday evening and took it pretty easy. On Saturday morning I did my first run since the half Marathon. Just a little 7km, and for the first couple, my legs were a bit shakey. But towards the end I was really feeling it, comfortable and happy and keen to get training again.

On Saturday lunchtime, Jasmin, the hood-rat that she is, text me about an event that I had promised to go with her to. Feining my illness and near-death experience, I tried to back out... but she called me a flake. For all of my nearest and dearest, you will know if there's one way to get me to do something it's to imply that I am being a bit flakey. Because, I may be a lot of things, but 'flake' I am not. If I say I'm gonna call you, I will call you. If I say I'm going, I will be there. And if I say I'm going to run a half-marathon (okay, promise this is the last reference for today)... then food-poisoning or no food-poisoning, you will find me at the finish line. Which is how I ended up at the:

Tunisian B-Boy Championships
Oh yes.
So Tunisia has a lot of dis-used churches. From what I have been led to understand, indiginous and coptic strains of Christianity in Tunisia were persecuted, assimilated and wiped out by the Catholic church, so that at the time of independence, the Catholic faith was all that remained. At this time, French settlers intending to stay in Tunisia were counted and a proportionate number of churches were kept for them to worship in. All of the others were demolished.
The Saint Louis Cathedral on Byrsa Hill in Carthage is one of the defunct survivors, but it is now used to host the odd concert, theatrical event, or street dance competition.

A heady smell of tobacco, testosterone and pure swagger greeted us as we entered. Dance groups from all over the country were battling with precise rhythm, intense attitude and the kind of stomach muscles that dreams are made from. I left with real inspiration to do some core stability exercises, and some headspins.

After this and on to:

Ladies' Moroccan Night

The sweetheart Moroccan intern at my office was hosting a special culinery journey through Morocco (if you will) with a night of tajines, cous cous and mad gossip. I was really alarmed when she told me that she had invited sixteen people, and I wondered how she would handle all that cooking, but from further questioning, I established that her femme de ménage was doing it all and I really have no clue about how people actually live here at all.

The food was completely spectacular. I am a complete sucker for sweet things and so I was delighted with the Lamb and Prune Tajine. Absolutely gorgeous. My friend has promised to do a cooking night so that I can come over and learn to make it. It's the contrast of the sweet, sticky prunes and the super tender, buttery lamb. Oh my. Sorry the picture is a bit naff, justice has not been done.

There were also lots of beautiful Moroccan pastries, fresh off the plane. These ones were in the shape of fruits, no bigger than a fingernail and tasted of almonds.

We had the loveliest of evenings, the time flew by and we were still eating at 1am - this is how the North Africans do it. Massive sugar high all night and I had no chance of sleeping.

Easter Sunday
Easter Sunday was a gem, church and the gym, followed by a massive lamb roast at my friend, Penny's, house. Yes, more lamb. I can't get over that fact that lamb is the "standard" meat here, like chicken is in the UK. At home, lamb is such a treat, and usually the most expensive thing on the menu. But here, especially after Eid al-Adha, you'll be lucky not to eat lamb everyday (or unlucky, if you're like me, and adore lamb)

I used Easter as a further opportunity to develop my fruitcake making skills. I made a Simnel cake, which is a traditional British Easter cake covered in Marzipan with an extra sneaky layer of marzipan in the middle. It was extra Eastery as I used loads of dried figs in the mix (in Mark's gospel Jesus gets a hankering for some figs on the way into Jerusalem, and is narked off when he realises it's not fig season yet - Mark 11). You have to decorate it with 11 marzipan balls to represent the 11 faithful apostles (Sorry Judas, that's how it goes sometimes).

Fruitcakes are my strength.  Fruitcakes are where I am at. Yeah, not everyone may like them, but it's what I'm good at. Like the London 2012 Olympics Logo, they don't ask to be liked. Cupcakes may be more cute and twee and girlie and fashionable and Cath Kidston apron on a rainy day, but they are not me. I'm about the big, rich, brandy-laced Grandma Fruitcake. And it's a pretty nice place to be.

Happy Easter x