If you had enough money, where would you choose to live? I've lived in big cities (New York, Johannesburg) and now live on top of a hill on a farm in Northern Ireland. I love the peace and quiet here, but looking forward to visiting Johannesburg and its buzz at the end of the year. C'mon, let's have it. What's your dream?

I hope you agree when I say that drinks are a natural extension of food writing. I once wrote a series on cocktails for the Financial Mail. Here's my piece on the Martini. Comments would be hugely appreciated. A CLASS ACT America has given us more varieties of cocktails than you can shake a swizzle stick at. But for reasons purely selfish the martini, now seriously back in fashion, is my focus. Because a martini cuts to the quick, so to speak. No stupid little umbrellas to deal with, no fruit syrups in outlandish colours. I discovered the venerable martini when I lived in Manhattan and fell in love with Grand Central Station. I’d mosey down to the Oyster Bar and watch business people take a detour on their way home for some oysters – and that perfect martini. It was during the Prohibition in the early 1900s that the martini became the darling of the in-crowd. And, fashion often being born of necessity - and since gin was easier to make than whiskey - bathtub gin became the order of the day. According to Roman Slepica, owner of Blind Tiger in Jo’burg’s Parkview (an eatery and bar for grownups) says, “The drink is seemingly simple but can go so wrong, too. Always keep in mind that the less Vermouth, the drier the martini.” Aficionados are very specific about the degree of dryness. For instance, an extra-dry martini begs for the Vermouth bottle to be waved, very briefly, across the top of the shaker. (It is said that Winston Churchill enjoyed his ice-cold gin after bowing briefly in the direction of France in homage to the source of Vermouth). If you’re at a self-respecting cocktail bar – such as Blind Tiger - and yearn for a martini, the questions you should be asked are, whether you want gin or vodka. Then, shaken, stirred, or straight up (only if the glass had been chilled). Then, a twist (of lemon peel) or olives. Unless you want a dirty martini: the olives in this case aren’t washed, and a splash of the liquid in which the olives arrived, are added to the mix.

I'm obsessed with a number of things. Among them are: food, and words. So I came across a Jamie Oliver post about the words he's banned from his staff members using. Then I dug deeper, and found more. Some of them are indeed eeek-inducing. But here's a question: which word do you find a bit, erm, unlovely? I'd sincerely love to know - and I'll add them to my list! Oh, and here's my so-far list: moist crevice rimming gush encrusted, minge (it's a baking term 😁) flange stuffed gash smeared proper rustic scrummy

@Julie Nelson - and wow! Everyone, Julie is a witch, Botanical Perfumer, Astrologer, Artist, Speaker, helping Women tap into their magick to rise unaplogetically in their truth Such a magickal mouthful! Julie, I look forward to your comments, especially my free module about how to write using all the senses.

This isn’t just content… it’s your cue. 👇 Can you describe it without saying “nice”? I'll respond to each one ...