Tarantella The Night Away!

Do you dance? No, me neither.

Not until the tarantella found its way into my life, that is. This night was up there with the most fun nights ever since fun nights began.

What better way to stomp away a bitingly cold February evening than by learning the deceptively simple tarantella steps? This fiery, traditional southern Italian dance is unbelievably fun, exhausting and hilarious. A touch of fact – the word ‘tarantella’ is another word for ‘tarantism’ – the hysterical condition following a bite from a grotesque ‘tarantula’ – now your turn for a ‘t’ word.

Let me rewind.

I went with a gorgeous, (more so than enthusiastic I might add) group of friends to what seemed like an abandoned warehouse in nondescript Limehouse, (think distressed, eery SAW shoot location if you will.)

Do not be fooled by appearances!

If the thumping percussion, siren singing and red music doesn’t seduce you then, frankly, I don’t know what will.

I hope the pictures below awaken something tarantella-esque in you enough to get your ‘jeeeeg’ on (as the Italians would say.) If that fails to stir you, perhaps the flowing wine and cosy entertainment might be enough to lure you out of your  70% off GAP pyjamas.

Watch for upcoming events here at the Jamoboree!

























10 Top Stories – Quick 2014 Round-Up


1) Hair cut and a telling off here

2) Eavesdropping, Spanish Steps Style here

3) Overheard amusing conversation on the London tube here

4) 10 reasons you know you live with an Italian here

5) Magazine moment and inspiration ladies here

6) The date, nutella-dilemma and ivy embellished bars here 

aka “Why American boy when you are in Italia?

7) Jazz moment: here

8) Paris, Paris, Paris

9) New years resolutions of 2014 – being flawless isn’t always necessary or all that exciting here

10) Roman Insults, Yoga & a Revelation here


Wintry Snippets of Home/English Countryside – Nostalgic Already

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How To Be The MOST Christmas

9 ways to show your fellow commuters & colleagues you are ready for Christmas

1) Sellotape tinsel to your face for instant Christmas effect

2) Have a wear of a Rudolf Christmas onesie, perhaps in between meetings at work, to make other colleagues smile and know you are the most ready for Christmas

3) Sew a traditional Christmas chipolata down your face so that people will think you are the most Christmas when they are having a look at your face

4) When someone next to you on the tube is reading or listening to music, remove headphones/take book and sing instead to fellow commuter who is ready to enjoy your Christmas carolling

5) Manoeuvre via elvin twirls as you make your way from the bus to the tube station/office instead of dull walking

6) Perhaps there is a delay and you are surrounded by fed up commuters who look a) angry b) tired c) grumpy d) anxious. What better way to lift their spirits and remind them of Christmas than scattering fake snow on the bus/tube floor, where bits may even settle on said commuters hair or, even better, eyelashes causing Christmas cheer

7) Wear a plastic red nose and (cover the elastic band with your hair) to show you are the most Christmas

8) Produce hand-painted crackers to fellow commuters for them to take to work and know Christmas is coming

9) Put flour in your hair and a red Christmas hat on your chin so that from upside down people will think you are Father Christmas

How have you been the most Christmas?

Good luck!



Back To London: Face Lift Friday!

No! Not a real one. Just a bloggy one. Less exciting and life changing but still important if you ask me. If I ever do have one I will certainly turn it into life-changing literature, which I’m sure it would be. There is a … Continue reading

How To Save A Life – You Heard Me

“Imagine yourself strolling by the River Tiber…”

There is a moment in every person’s life when they save the life of another. That time came somewhat prematurely for me one morning whilst living in Rome. You’d think dogs were the easy part of the whole au-pairing deal but you may want to think again.

Imagine yourself strolling by the River Tiber, which chases its way through the city. The late September air is cool and the colours are spicy in the morning, an early sun pouring like honey over the water. It is a pretty abandoned and quiet place down by the river. If it wasn’t for the light and peace it is possibly Rome’s ugliest secret. Additionally, the long and looming Tiber is apparently rat and chemical-infested.

I know.

However, I might mention at night it is a glowing beacon of romance: lovers stroll down the bicycle path lanes, weaved into each other’s arms. It is a place to fall in love, fall out of love, or in my case, fall in the river.

It all happened incredibly fast, as horrific moments do. One minute the dog and I are walking companions. The next, the lead had whipped out of my hand and I spotted a golden head bobbing in the middle of the spinning, grey current. The drowning thing was being relentlessly pushed down stream. I bolted parallel to the river, bumping into a balding, old man. The dog disappeared from view, I asked him if he had seen a floating dog and he said something about the presence of rats creating an underworld of disease on the riverbed.

“The beauty of Rome was peeling away”

Thanking him for his useless response, I sprinted further, noticing buildings around me become more gritty and skeletal. The beauty of Rome was peeling away. As would, I thought, the familial affection the family had for me when I returned with a soaking, dead dog in my arms.

“It all happened incredibly fast, as horrific moments do”

After what felt like a hundred years, I caught sight of the helpless animal, now a yellow smudge in the water. I clambered down the banking of the river and fought down through the steep shrubbery to come level with her. Far down from the pedestrian path, I grated away my voice box screaming her name and, like some bizarre force guiding her over, she reached me.

At that point, I was balancing on a small, godforsaken stretch of ground, slippery from damp. Grabbing the dog as she crawled towards me, I remember laughing, digging my nails into her damp fur in anger, utterly exhausted. The foolish creature looked at me, ears pitched forwards, large brown eyes incredibly soft.
It took a few minutes to realize that not only was I several feet from dry land, but apart from the stupid, sodden dog and gushing river, I was completely alone.

Perhaps night would fall and someone, a week later, would come across a white, frozen corpse with a dead dog clasped in her arms.

My only choice was to yell repeatedly “C’è qualcuno?-Is there anyone there?” at the top of my voice, until some unsuspecting stranger came to rescue me.

Quite to my delight, this unsuspecting stranger came in the form of a rather handsome student who was crossing the bridges. An unshaved, well-dressed figure stared down and gave me a careful and puzzling wave. After seeing the dog collapsed at my side, I think he realized the situation and not that I was just chilling out down there. He waved a phone in my direction and, still a little uncertain as to his heroic plans, I acknowledged him and waited. We talked a bit actually and were we face to face, and I a little less blackened with mud and resembling Mowgli from The Jungle Book, I may have been in the state of mind to flirt – visions of chilled wine in a hazy piazza.

 “Were we face to face, and I a little less… .resembling Mowgli from The Jungle Book, I may have been in the state of mind to flirt – visions of chilled wine in a hazy piazza…”

Fast forward twenty minutes, I heard an “Oi!” coming from the river. A large dinghy full of large, bearded men was bobbing towards me. I waved to make sure they absolutely saw me and didn’t diverge off towards other potentially marooned dog walkers. Before I knew it, I was beside them, dog in tow and grateful that my chiseled saviour had been intelligent enough to call the fire-brigade.
We lumbered off the dinghy at a remote building and following behind I wondered whether to hug them? Gather them round the family’s dining table so we could all celebrate the rescue with prosecco and pizza? Honestly though, I wanted to mutter a quick thanks and leave.
The dog and I were treated to a rather harsh (I thought) spray down with a hose (wasn’t I soaking and humiliated enough?) They thought I had, in my insanity, jumped into Rat River. To top it all off, rather cruelly, I was made to trundle the couple of miles home, damp and weary.

 “Rather cruelly, I was made to trundle the couple of miles home, damp and weary…”

The following morning, the children’s father called me into the kitchen waving several newspapers, telling me about a girl leaping in the Tiber to save her Labrador. With the details of my name and age wrong though, it could have been anybody.

Sunny Summer Reminiscences

It has been a long and beautiful summer. I was lucky enough so spend a lot of it by the sea and so wanted to share some moments with you all.

I love a good breakfast – see below for a glorious first one that is always the most satisfying. Imagine on the left a magnificent view of a sparkling sea and rocky cliffs, a hazy breeze drifting over from the shore.


Sea Food Sunday