October 5, 2014
Earlier this year, I spoke at the Boring Conference. Amongst the many great talks, which you can watch here and here, I particularly enjoyed Ali Coote on ice cream vans, deputy editor of Mojo mag Andrew Male talking about Eric Clapton’s bookshelves, Rhodri Marsden exposing the monotony of national anthems, and of course my husband Martin Austwick banging on about eggs.
Here’s mine. It’s about my collection of mid-20th century cookery books, and the grimness therein:
September 18, 2011
I’ve just returned from a few days in Vienna. My husband was busy at a data conference most of the time, so I was left to amuse myself. Where can a lone lady find both amusement and lovely chilly marble to keep one cool in 30C heat? Museums!
Along with beautiful baroque buildings, horses and carts, and cake, Vienna has an excess of museums – museums of undertaking, Esperanto, The Third Man… I didn’t make it to any of those, because I was too busy filling my brain-pan at the Museum of Globes, the Natural History Museum, the Leopold Museum of modern art. In the Kunsthistorisches Museum of fine arts, I spotted this cheeky bitch ripping off the Breughel:
At the Neue Berg, we saw some very impressive armour, including suits for kids:
And this chatty pair of warriors:
And this show-off:
To counterbalance its surfeit of art and culture, Vienna has the grossest museums I’ve ever been to.
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