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Olympic medal winners on ice, Mr Depp in town and the Britney drama romps along

The welcome return of Dancing on Ice to Sunday night telly may have given many of you the urge to don your skates and head to the local ice-rink. If you have tried your luck on the ice this year, you’ll know how difficult it is just to keep upright let alone to execute a Dancing on Icestyle routine… So spare a thought for Kyran Bracken, winner of series two of the show and the DOI Champion of Champions who is starring in Romanza – this year’s Holiday on Ice extravaganza.

Kyran’s routines have been choreographed by local resident and Olympic and European gold medallist, the dashing Robin Cousins. Robin, who is of course a judge on the DOI panel, was spotted at the Brighton Centre this week, watching his protégé at work. Love the show Robin and in case you’re interested, I’m voting for Greg Rusedski.

Brit fix

This column comes to you direct from sunny Miami, where I am on holiday to escape the British weather and avoiding my imminent birthday! No prizes for guessing that the hottest story among US showbiz writers right now is Britney’s very public meltdown. Every day there are new reports of her depression and a blow-by-blow account of her struggle for custody of her children, with estranged partner Kevin Fed-Ex. The latest twist in the tale, we all hate to love, is that the pop princess has allegedly been spotted visiting chemists to buy pregnancy tests with her new Brummie photographer boyfriend, Adnan Ghalib. I for one hope Britney gets the help she needs to recover soon.

Where’s Johnny?

My all-time movie heart-throb, Johnny Depp who is currently receiving critical acclaim for his eponymous role in the new Tim Burton movie, has been spotted out and about browsing the shops of the North Laine. Why am I never in the right place at the right time?

Selling out Spears

Mind you, at least Britney’s shenanigans are taking the pressure off her 16-year-old pregnant sister, Jamie-Lynn, who I saw yesterday, advertising merchandise from her TV series, Zoey 101… Expect sales to be slow guys!

Making it

We hear that Brighton based Kathryn Rayward has been commissioned to do another series of ITV1’s 60 Minute Makeover. Kathryn is currently splitting her time between her new home in the south of France (trés chic) and her design clients in Sussex. Well done Kathryn!

Jo Brooks is director of Brighton-based PR company JBPR Ltd
01273 622555, www.jb-pr.com

Sandra Omo talks size and the beauty of being yourself

Models with curves, they say, are very rare these days. It is not true at all. There might be many skinny models out there, but there are also many models that are not skinny. It is pathetic to see young girls starving themselves because they want to be models.

I am not here to discuss the size zero debate, it is such a cliché and one that I am not interested in at all. I am here to make it clear to anyone who has fallen into the wrong track of thinking that to be sexy or a model you have to be skinny. You are so wrong. As a matter of fact, there has never been a time when modelling has been associated with thinness. It’s true that one needs to be in good shape to be a model, but good shape does not in any way involve being skinny – there are plus size models out there. However, I am not here today to talk about plus size models, it is young models and those who want to be catwalk models that I am talking about here.

“I know Brits love their Kate Moss, but if you are trying to make it by pulling a Kate Moss, think twice, because there already is one”

There is no such thing as a model ‘look’. Kate Moss, for example, didn’t change the way she looked to be a model – she was born that way. In fact, there was nothing special about her looks until she became famous. It is not the look; it is the success. Do you think that Kate Moss would be referred to as sexy if she were not a supermodel? Different folks, different cups of tea. My point here is not to say who is sexy or not, but to show you that being sexy is about being yourself. So, also, is being a success.

There are no two models in the world that look exactly the same. There are often many similarities in models, as we are all vying for the same jobs and there are certain qualities one should have in order to be to a model. But to be a success there must be some thing that goes beyond the general rule – something that sets you apart from others. So why try to make it by looking like someone else? I mean, who needs a fake when there is an original? I know Brits love their Kate Moss, but if you are trying to make it by pulling a Kate Moss, think twice, because there already is one.

Back to the issue of size. How boring and unreal the modelling industry would be if all models were all the same size. There would be no 7up factor, and uniqueness is a necessary tool for success, as well as sexiness. Don’t ever get this wrong; human beings are not animals, we have taste, and we differ in shape and size. I have yet to see a designer who designs clothes for only one size, or a catwalk show with models of one size only.

The modelling industry needs variety and that is where we all come in. I am proud to be a curvy size eight, and I realise I love it, because this is me. I am confident like this and would not change for anything; because I know that makes my looks, my looks don’t make me.

So being sexy, I say again, is being yourself. Try originality and I promise you will love it.

Andrew Kay finds that things are buzzing at La Galleria in Shoreham-by-Sea

On a dismally cold January evening the drive through Hove towards Shoreham was less than inspiring. The post Christmas blues had set in, the wind was icy and every restaurant we passed on the way was desolate. It was culinary tumbleweed season.

Shoreham still twinkled with lights as we arrived and we parked easily before making our way against the chill breeze to La Galleria. I expected to find the same desolation but I was wrong. In Hove all were safely gathered in, in Shoreham it was still party season and the place was buzzing. We were found a table in a corner, my favourite kind with good views of the whole room, and before long we had menus and soft drinks. Yes, soft drinks, both Kevin my guest and I were doing that no booze in Jan routine. Ha ha, I hear you laugh, how long will that last? – and you’re right. Only the next night I drowned my sorrows in a can of beer and two bottles of Cherry B that Santa left in my stocking – Lord only knows where he found them.

“My platter of salamis and meats with punchy pickles hit exactly the right spot. A carnivorous treat fitted the bill perfectly”

The menu at La Galleria is stacked with old Italian favourites, nothing scary or wayward in sight and we were both glad of that. Mr E started with mozzarella in carozza, a classic that I also love. It came in huge proportions too, two globes of crumbed and fried cheese with a ramekin of tomato sauce. He cut one open and the inside simply oozed across his plate. I confess that I was envious, it looked delicious and he was more than happy with his choice.

My platter of salamis and meats with punchy pickles hit exactly the right spot. I was in fighting mood and a carnivorous treat fitted the bill perfectly. I was also delighted to see mortadella on the plate, it’s a favourite of mine that is rather neglected here in the UK. Perhaps because it looks a bit Spam like, but then again I am not averse to the occasional slice of Spam.

Garlic bread was an indulgence that we could not resist but one that perhaps we should have as all the portions were generous to say the least.

For mains Mr E went all trad on us, a spaghetti carbonara that he declared perfectly eggy rather than creamy. I like the fact that we were as one on the need for that dish to be egg based and not cream. To often it arrives as a creamy sauce with no evidence of egg. I know it may be easier to keep in a stable condition in the kitchen but without egg yolk it simply ain’t carbonara.

My lavish choice of skewers of fish and seafood were great, chargrilled and tasty with a good variety and generous quantity. They came on a bed of spaghetti simply dressed in olive oil with garlic and chilli, a no messing dish this, and one that packs a punch. At £12.95 it was also great value.

Mr E was too full for pud but I bravely ordered a cremé caramel. Now I say brave because all too often this simplest of dishes is ruined by being wrongly constructed or too rapidly cooked. This one was just right, soft, sweet and slippery – I loved it.

Coffee was hot and strong, as I like it. My double espresso perfectly right with a swirling crema on top, the late evening kick that I so needed.

I loved La Galleria, the staff were charming but not over-bearing and the atmosphere was great. A constant flow of people came and went, romantic couples, large parties, old, young… and all were treated with the same care and attention. Next to us a pretty girl celebrated her 18th birthday with her family. The waiters sang to her and she blushed but we all warmed to the real sense that this was a family restaurant lacking in pretense but not without style.

When we finally put on our coats to leave the staff seemed genuinely disappointed that we were not staying longer. We arrived at 7.30 and it was now half past ten. Time had flown, we had never felt that we had been kept waiting but somehow had spent a happy three hours in Shoreham-by-Sea. It’s easy to see why this place has become such a fashionable place to live.

La Galleria, 22 East Street, Shoreham-by-Sea
01273 440404 | Map
www.lagalleriarestaurant.co.uk

Dani takes a step into the dark side and ponders whether she is haunted by forgotten dreams

I don’t go to the cinema very often, sitting in a big dark room surrounded by secret speakers kind of freaks me out a bit. But if there is something I really want to see I will make it.

As I sit there, surrounded by strangers all looking at the same thing, I become overwhelmed by an uncontrollable urge to cry. And not just a little tear, it’s proper racking sobs, they try and push themselves out, and I have no idea why. I sit and bite my lip and instantly insert a cigarette into my lips when I leave but the feeling stays with me. Perhaps it’s the strange idea of a hundred or so people all experiencing the same thing, fear, laughter, emotion, boredom. Sitting there gives you a feeling of being so alone while almost comforted for knowing that at that moment, whatever it is your experiencing, others are to. Or perhaps it’s because I become so small in front of a screen so big, showing such feats of imagination. Beautiful images of worlds that can only exist on a screen or more importantly in a mind only add to my imagination and take my hand whenever I’m in need of an escape. And if people can create these worlds, I must not be the only one who has these things swimming around, ready to pop out at any moment.

“Perhaps it’s sheer jealousy, I always wanted to be an actress, I had wanted to go to RADA”

Perhaps it’s just sheer jealousy, I always wanted to be an actress, I had wanted to go to RADA but I’m not and I didn’t and maybe the tears come because I feel sour at the fact that these people get to experience all this and I just get to watch them do it. But I think I mainly get the feeling of being so small and unimportant and a failure that I don’t know whether to cross my legs or bite my nails. I tend to get that feeling a lot – big screen or not. I haven’t necessarily failed anything I was supposed to have completed but I get the impression I’m failing as a 20-year-old.

I had a recent invite to go a party where loads of people I went to secondary school would be, if I hadn’t been busy already I still wouldn’t have gone. I know I have achieved a lot more in my few years out of the school sweater than nearly everyone there, but because I haven’t traveled across Australia or Thailand, because I haven’t spent every Friday and Saturday in some night club, I don’t belong with them.

The fact of the matter is that I am 20, I can crochet pretty much anything, I can bake pretty much most things sweet, I moved out of my parents when I was 17 (all be it to move back in and then out and then in again) I wrote a weekly column from the age of 17, I hosted a radio show, I interviewed Noel Fielding for heavens sake. Yet, at the same time I have achieved nothing, because if I had I wouldn’t have to stop myself crying when I go to the cinema.