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Today is Bond day, as the 22nd James Bond motion picture, Quantum of Solace, is released. You can’t fail to have noticed that the film is out what with every radio brodcast, television programme, and magazine seemingly having a Bond feature, so here’s my contribution to the 2008 007 dossier of hype.

This morning, The Guardian highlighted songs that could have been Bond themes (note they weren’t should-have-beens). Among the rejected songs by luminaries such as Blondie, Johnny Cash, the Pet Shop Boys, and unbelievably, Ace of Base, is this easy-listening groove from UK poppers Saint Etienne.

I’d forgotten that this song existed, even though it was on the band’s fan club release, Built on Sand, re-issued in January as part of the group’s four-disc collection, Boxette. Recorded in 1997, and submitted for consideration as the theme song for Pierce Brosnan’s Bond flick of the same name, this version is a demo (there was another tune, too, on the same long player, called Blofeld Buildings).

In the sleeve notes for Boxette, Bob Stanley states that the master tape was stolen by Brosnan, who claimed it was ’seven times better than Sheryl Crow’ (Crow eventually sung the theme for the film). See what you think. It may not have been sharp-shooting enough for 1990s Bond, but it would have made a fitting opening credits theme for any one of the Connery-era 007 pictures from the 1960s.

Our laying ladies have been popping out eggs for almost two months now. And, as we have three, we should have had at least three eggs some days – one from each of Barbara, Gerry, and Margot. But, we’ve always had two, and though we think they’re all laying now, we suspect Gerry took her time, and was a late starter.

So, imagine our surprise when four eggs were waiting for us on Tuesday morning; the first proper cold snap day of the winter. As two were fleshy white in colour, we’re guessing that Barbara was the busy bird, popping out two reasonably sized eggs in less than 12 hours.

We’ve had 40% larger eggs, barren days with none, and we rarely have two eggs to collect at the same time, so how all four ended up being laid in the same space of time (and overnight, too, it would seem), we just don’t know.

In egg related news, I am now the proud owner of four novelty VW camper van egg cups. Bought for me in celebration of our second year together, they’re bright in colour, have different registration numbers, and are by far the most faithful to the real thing of all the designs on offer from the various internet retailers.

Never before will egg eating have been so much fun, as we can now make traffic jams on our plates (using toasted soldiers as roadblocks), and pretend that any over-running yolk is a serious oil leak, just like the egg cups’ real life counterparts. Egg-citing and egg-stra cute special egg cups indeed. Happy Anniversary!

We should not be defining ourselves simply by the logo on our cars. In doing so, we hand our identity and our self-worth over to companies whose existence are geared not towards quality of life, but towards profit.

Source: Neil Boorman, Bonfire of the Brands

We’re all attracted to a certain product because of its brand. My allegiance to Volkswagen is a long-standing one, and I don’t really know why, for me, the German company’s products stand wing mirrors above cars offered by rival manufacturers. It’s even more of a brand thing when other, cheaper, VW Group products from Skoda and SEAT are as good as the more expensive offerings from their parent company. You are, quite literally, paying for the badge.

It can be argued that Neil Boorman’s book, Bonfire of the Brands, is more relevant now than when it was first published. A story of one man and his quest to live a brand-free, and arguably more ethical life, it hit the book shelves last year.. But, the values and self analytical quests contained within it fit snugly with the credit crunched and unnecessary spending world of 2008.

Boorman was a brand charlatan before writing these 244 pages, with logos plastered over everything he owned, and touching every part of his life. Of course, they appeal to all of us for all sorts of different reasons, but believing that brands had come to stand for much more than the quality or origin of the products as they did when the first branded goods were sold over a century ago, Boorman set out to find out why.

Arguing that although advertising messages bombard us from every street corner, every TV and cinema screen, and every magazine and newspaper, Boorman states the obvious in that we don’t have to adhere to the ‘consume more’ and ‘this will make your life better’ messages. And that’s before the non-ethical values that perpetuate from the ‘more, more, more’ and ‘got to have that’ society are brought into play.

Boorman’s analysis of the effects brands have on society is well-researched, and it turns from a quest searching for the answers to how brands work, the effect they have on the consumer-driven society, and how they control us, to a deep-thinking self analysis. He discovers his brand addiction manifested itself at an early age, and is something he has almost hidden his real self behind for most of his adult life.

Anecdotes and entries are interspersed with brand histories, Boorman’s own therapist reports, and his research, which turns up some interesting theories and questions. One such thought is that consumers believe the lies and messages beamed out from advertising so much that it almost brainwashes them into buying that product or service. With similarities to propagandas of war, that product or service may enhance your life, but did you really need it until you saw the commercial on TV or in the press?

As the title suggests, in the ultimate act and the last stage in his branded life, Boorman burnt £20,000 of his logoed goods on a high-profile bonfire in central London. From then on, he pledges to live brand-free for at least a year, untouched by the empty promises most branded goods offer. As well as the preparation for the sacrificial fire itself, the reader is taken on the author’s journey to find more ethical ways of buying clothes, sourcing food, and even mixing homemade cosmetics.

Some would call Boorman’s burning of his branded possessions and this subsequent book headline-grabbing voyeurism, but it’s not only enlightening, but engaging, too. Largely written as diary entries pre and post-bonfire, Bonfire of the Brands equips the reader with at least some of the tools he or she should need, if a brand-free or brand-reduced lifestyle appeals.

Starting as a blog at the beginning of his self analytical journey, Boorman’s book is mostly an easy read, and while buying brand-free T-shirts and food at overpriced markets won’t make a difference in the bigger picture, the book is at the very least an insightful and thought-provoking essay into the world of commercialism and sociology.

• Bonfire of the Brands: How I Learned to Live Without Labels by Neil Boorman, Canongate Books Ltd 2007, ISBN 978 1 84195 987 0

The roasted peppers and tomatoes in this hearty soup make you think of butternut squash, but the orange vegetable is not included. Ideal as a starter, the ingredients below make four small servings, so increase the quantities to make larger and more filling bowlfuls.

Ingredients
4 peppers (green, red, or yellow)
525g of tomatoes
1 teaspoon of olive oil
1 onion
2 carrots
568ml (1 pint) of vegetable stock
3 tablespoons of half-fat crème fraîche
12 basil leaves
Pepper to taste

Method
Core, de-seed, and halve the peppers. Halve the tomatoes, and arrange the peppers and tomatoes on a baking/grill tray (peppers skin side up, and tomatoes skin side down) and cook under a preheated high grill for around 10 minutes, until the pepper skins are charred. Remove the roasted vegetables from the grill, and put the peppers into a clipped plastic bag and leave to stand for 15 minutes. Leave the tomatoes to cool for the same amount of time.

Peel off the pepper skins by rubbing until all removed, and chop up the flesh. Peel the skins off the tomatoes (which should be easier than the peppers which can take a while, but persevere – it is worth it). Now chop up the onion and carrots.

In a large saucepan, heat the oil and soften the onion and carrot for five minutes. Make the stock as per the instructions on the tub, and add to the pan, along with the roasted peppers and tomatoes. Now reduce the heat and simmer for a further 40 minutes.

If you are making the soup ahead of serving the following day, leave to stand in a covered saucepan. When needed, add all the mixture into a food processor and blend until smooth. Transfer back into a large saucepan, and reheat on the hob. Add the crème fraîche and stir through. Season with a little pepper to taste and serve into bowls, adding three leaves of basil for decoration. Serve with crusty French bread, or Italian focaccia.

This soup can also be bagged and frozen to eat later if you have a glut of homegrown ripe tomatoes that you would like to use.

I don’t know what it was about them, but at spare moments during the weekend, Bart had his head in a magazine or an old book, reading about the relationships between tyres and wheels. He and mum had just returned from two weeks in Majorca, and were down for the weekend, you see. Arriving on Saturday afternoon, they stayed through until Sunday, and even though it’s now Tuesday, I think we’re still suffering from a morning of baking and making on Saturday.

As with similar occasions and stays, it was an enjoyable two days, with a frantic start. While Nik made the insides of a vegetable lasagne, and an Eve’s Pudding (adding apricots to our homegrown apple), I blended, heated and stirred a roasted pepper and tomato soup. As usual, we didn’t trusted our recipes; the preparation time was much longer for everything we cooked. But, it was all enjoyable, and we have a few more dishes to now offer up when visitors dine at the house.

We had fun too, though. As Saturday afternoon soon became Saturday evening, we taught mum and Bart dominoes, as they’d never played for points before. We hadn’t for a while either, and while Bart looked for strategic and point-scoring lays, we just tried to grasp at the game’s basic concept once more.  With Oscar curled up on the magazine mountain in the corner of the dining room, it was a cosy and enjoyable evening in. When he wasn’t asleep, the cat hopped from lap to lap, stopping at whoever he thought would give him the best tickle.

Sunday dawned cloudy and a little wet, but did brighten up enough for us to venture out to Hylands House, where we enjoyed hot drinks and cakes. Clearly enjoying the previous night’s activities (we also played cards), the dominoes had been asked for again, and packed in a coat pocket, were brought out again so that we could all get in some more practice. After an early lead, I was winning, until Bart found a strategy from somewhere, and leap-frogged his way to an easy 100-point score.

I wonder if, after all that reading, he’ll be equally as strategic in his next choice of tyres for his car?