You'd be missing out.
From without in the chilly night, the Hovel – which is a maisonette above a shop – looked cosy; I could see lamplight and books ranged on shelves.
In the spirit of festive generosity I would like to offer a helping hand when it comes to surviving the onslaught of hot plonk. Here, food, as in so many situations, is your friend.
Real Meals by Will Self.
The Drink Column.
Once upon a time, the food of Venice was considered the finest in Europe, “specialising in wild boar, peacock, venison, elaborate salads and architectural pastries”.
Will Self’s Real Meals.
We are now in the thick of what you might call “the bonfire season”, which runs from mid-October to the weekend after Guy Fawkes Night.
What does the term mean, other than that the wine is big, probably red, and certainly unaffordable?
Do you dislike Jamie Oliver because you’re ideologically opposed to his pasta dishes, or is it because the idea of a working class man who has acquired the privileges of middle class life pisses you off?
Scott Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Wicca in the Kitchen, “a practical guide to food magic”, promises, rather thrillingly, that from now on, every “munch of celery will resonate with new meaning”.
Twenty years ago, Labour won a landslide on a tide of optimism. Where did it all go wrong?
Find out in this week’s New Statesman. Subscribe now from just £1 an issue.