Hardeep Singh Kohli: Toe much for sandals

Tag : Women's Sandals
that the open-toed Birky (as I affectionately call it) can look awee bit "jessie" if not properly chosen. One would think thatknowledge might serve me well in life. If only. On Thursday, as Ialighted the plane in Inverness, in the rain, my sodden foot gentlycosseted by the leopard skin leather of the thong-type sandal, Irealised that in Scotland the summer sandal has limited uses.

A love affair with the stage that has been reignited

I've been very lucky in my life to have been able to watch a greatdeal of theatre. At university I performed and watched someinteresting work, having studied theatre under the inspirationalProfessor Jan McDonald and the late great Alistair Cameron. Aftergraduating I was employed as an usher at The Citizens' theatre inthe Gorbals, watching seminal productions such as Travels With MyAunt and The Crucible and not so seminal shows like Macbeth (withmountaineers) and a 1950s Manhattan take on The Alchemist.

In my later years I reviewed London theatre for a Scottishnewspaper. Having spent so much of my life loving theatre I'mafraid the constant and continual exposure to badly produced,ill-conceived drama left me exhausted and unsure as to whether Icould ever truly enjoy theatre again. I took some time away from itall and allowed myself to slowly re-introduce theatre back into mylife.

And I'm glad to say that having been to The Barbican in London onMonday night I wish to inform the world that I am very much back inlove with theatre. The production in question was Black Watch, thebrilliant and troubling opus presented by The National Theatre ofScotland. The show opened in Edinburgh to rave reviews and theLondon production is no different. People who wonder what the pointof theatre is should get themselves to see this play. It is utterlyastonishing, powerful and poignant. It is a physical, aural, oralassault on every sense. It combines song, movement, comedy, tragedyand drama.

For nearly two hours I found myself completely transfixed. Afternumerous ovations at the end I was unable to speak, so spent was Iby the passion and the performances. There was free drink on offerbut I was unable to string a sentence together. Such theatrereminds me of the power of the live performance, the elegantsimplicity of a space, some words and some music. I'm very muchback in love.

My summer salads come with a side order of testosterone

Summer is well and truly upon us and, like my fashion sense, mycooking abilities are much better suited to the colder autumn andwinter months. I am rubbish in the sun. I struggle to find decentfood to complement the blue skies and warmth. My hearty soups andpie-based main courses seem wholly out of place; nothingslow-cooked ought to be considered and red meat seems to languishin temperatures over 22¡C.

I am forced therefore to turn my attentions to salads. Havingstruggled with the leafy, healthy salad for many years, thinking itunsuitable for big boys like me, I believe I have finally managedto adapt it to my food needs. My breakthrough was realising thatchicken, bacon or duck (my three staple flesh offerings) can beeasily combined with a fruit accompaniment in and amongst thegreenery. Duck and pomegranate; bacon and fig; chicken and mango.There are variations on this theme, and all should be explored,with the notably exception of raspberry and smoked chicken. (I makethese mistakes so you don't have to.)

Embellish this couplet of flesh and fruit with unusual herbs, usingthe herb as a salad leaf rather than as a plain herb per se. Forinstance, two good handfuls of mint in with the bacon and fig makesfor a taste explosion in the mouth. Flat leaf parsley and basillend themselves equally well to this more ubiquitous treatment.Some shaved fennel, de-seeded and skinned cucumber or halvedradishes add some crunch. All that remains is for a cheeky weedressing. Limes, lemons and vinegars are all good and can beenhanced with passion fruit, capers or chilli. Follow these simpleinstructions and you too can enjoy the muscular taste experience ofa big boy's salad. Unfortunately I can offer no advice on how tosummon the sun.

Born winner Murray is an inspiration for us all

I'd like to take this opportunity to express my profound pride in ayoung man called Andrew Murray. Growing up I loved tennis. It wasone of the few sports both my mum and dad played and the only sportthat we would gather round the TV to watch. I grew up in the heydayof McEnroe, Borg and Navratilova. Many summer afternoons were spentat the Bishopbriggs Sports Centre trying desperately to serveand/or volley.

Never, in all those hours, days and months did I ever think a youngScot would find himself playing in the middle of the second week atWimbledon. Every year Murray matures and improves. He looks fitter,healthier and more of a threat. And he carried within his heart theability to win. Obviously this year he came up against theimmovable object of Nadal who looks only too able to break theerstwhile monopoly
Federer has on the SW19 title.

One wonders how many kids across Scotland have been inspired byMurray and his single-minded determination. Perhaps we may become anation of tennis-loving, tennis-playing individuals.

We are similar in size to Serbia, which is disproportionately wellrepresented in both the men's and the women's top 10 seedings.

Andy Murray is exactly the sort of role model our nation needs. Awell balanced, well brought up young man with an unbelievable workethic. He is a born winner. And maybe one day Murray will make itbeyond the quarter-finals, beyond the semis and go on to lift thetrophy.

Every year that hope becomes more of a reality.