I live to share the places I love with anyone who may feel the same.

But I suppose that’s pretty obvious from these travel blogs, eh?

Nonetheless, I have so many destinations on my hit list I very rarely allow myself to visit the same place twice. Weekends away are the one opportunity I am able to turn a manic work schedule in my favour.

With just a weekend to spare and my passport burning a hole in the pocket of my Winter coat, a trip to Jersey promised to be the perfect escape.

Short flights practically ascend to descend from London and – after falling in love with the Channel island during a Christmas getaway – I knew Jersey had an intimate, foodie-friendly offering that felt just right for my loved one’s introduction to Saint Helier and beyond.

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warhammer quest whq
It was 3am, the room was thick with adrenaline, and Warhammer Quest had taken hold of me.

Had I been asked prior to my first twelve-hour marathon, the dungeon-based RPG – now twenty years out of production – would have been the last thing I expected to consume my bank holiday.

Yet, there I sat. Filled with caffeine, whisky, and an incredulous sense of collaborative competition.

It was an arguably ridiculous scene; four proper adults frenetically rolling dice to move plastic miniatures around Old World dungeons so old their haggard cardboard floors struggled to slide into their respective plastic door frames.

Except we weren’t proper adults anymore. We were a barbarian pit fighter, a wizard, a wardancer and an elf ranger. Embarking on a tabletop Tolkien tirade at the fate of dice mortality. With a lantern-wielding Level One leading us through the calculated corridors of a mathematical god.

The itsy-bitsy warfare is exhaustively human. Our wild warriors stood no and every chance from the outset. We could fumble our way through new experiences, discover our individual strengths, armour our weaknesses, do everything we can to defeat evil, and only truly survive by doing so together.

Ultimately, you’re fighting to stay alive. And Warhammer Quest has a knack for harvesting hell in a playbook. You could be potion-rich and heavily weaponed – even magical – and lose everything in the appearance of a single black dot.

But you survive. Sometimes, you even thrive. You save your ambushed friends, you share your wealth with those in need, and your proactive resilience leaves you stronger than ever.

As the thirteenth hour of gameplay set in, I looked up from my Adventure Record Sheet at my sleep-deprived comrades and smiled. We had all fought through pain. We had all forged glory.

We were warriors.

(Thank you to the inimitable Josh Thornton for being the best drunk photographer of all time.)

warhammer quest whq
warhammer quest whq
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spring fashion
One of my favourite things about moving is rediscovering my wardrobe. Especially the things that never end up in my weekly dress-reliant rotation. The faux fur gilets, the suede shoes, the jeans.

After a week of box-hauling and inevitable yet unforeseen expenses, I hopped out of the shower and straight to the wardrobe to shake things up from the norm; untamed hair, that ‘difficult’ wardrobe item that never seems right for the day’s occasions in the morning, and a wine-phobic pair of white jeans that managed to survive the day.

What I Wore:
White skinny jeans from Paige
Faux fur gilet (I’ve had for three years! Similar here)
Gold heel boots (similar here)

spring fashion
spring fashion
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It’s time I talked about my stint in the clink.

The CliffsNotes version of the story? I’ve considered leading a life of cocktail-intended crime ever since I escaped the joint. For my two-hour sentence, Alcotraz Penitentiary huddled a room of booze-smuggling strangers together to bring our respective Orange Is The New Black/Shawshank/Bad Girls dreams to life.

Alcotraz is the world’s first immersive prison cocktail bar; starchy orange jumpsuits, jaw-dropping convictions, unstable wardens, cell shakedowns and all. With carefully-hollowed bibles and 70cl-friendly pillowcases to support the inebriation of its inmates, Alcotraz is as good as immersive theatre gets.

Though they’re putting an applaudable spin on your everyday tequila slammer, the experience won me over with a dedication to absolute madness. This crowbar hotel would be the perfect precursor to any East London night-out.

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lami malo london

As a food writer I am quick to respond to restaurant suggestion demands across every corner of London, but Liverpool Street has always stumped me. While there are the obvious choices, great independents are swamped by chains and nondescript watering holes until you get closer to Shoreditch.

New restaurant L’ami Malo is an exception to the rule.

Nestled past the boozing bankers of Artillery Passage, this contemporary French crêperie has taken inspiration from the traditional French town of St Malo (famous for its high quality galettes) and executed the cosiest of culinary concepts.

We’re talking crepes and galettes pushed to their limits.

To start, my date and I split buckwheat goat’s cheese croquettes (atop roasted heritage
beetroot, and kasha seeds with a honey & thyme dressing) before delving into their similarly galette-inspired ‘maki rolls’; ham hock (his favourite – with gherkin, watercress, and piccalilli) and smoked salmon with capers, shallot, dill, keta caviar, and crème fraîche (obviously my favourite, but rich enough to warrant sharing).

Though the menu ran the risk of galette overkill, their star interpretations were so incredibly well-cooked I almost forgot buckwheat had anything to do with them. My own main, confit duck leg, included braised red cabbage, a caramelised pear, tenderstem broccoli, and a red wine jus in a way that could truly only have been heightened by a bottle of 2015 Château Coudray-Montpensier Chinon.

(A herbaceous and heavily-berried choice which, of course, they had.)

I would order the confit leg or slow-cooked red wine ox cheek (with confit baby onion, heritage carrot, buckwheat polenta, and crispy kale) again in a heartbeat.

With the recommendation of our l’ami-personifying waitress, we ordered their take on a vanilla cheesecake (a delectable arrangement of cakeless ‘cheese’ with baked dutch rhubarb and crispy crepe swirls) to end.

L’ami Malo is a restaurant I would recommend to anyone. Without hesitation. And I never do so lightly.

lami malo london

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