I love old stuff. Specifically old American stuff. If I lived here my house would be full of old stuff. Old chairs, old dressers, old tables, but unfortunately I don't think I'd get them home to England, so I have to make do with stuff that will fit in my suitcase. Today was distinctly cloudy, so a great day for antiquing. 

Last year we made a decision that this year we would explore a bit more. Some of our best experiences and stories came from stumbling across places only the locals know about and stopping off in small towns off the beaten track, so today we headed out with the map and a rough idea of a direction. 

After climbing back up from the base of the falls, we continued north on Route 16 and stopped at Wildcat to get a drink and take some shots of the magnificent views of Mt. Washington to the east and Wildcat to the west. It was so lovely we decided to take the short hike loop at the base of the mountain and head up to Thompson Falls. The Way of the Wildcat loop is a delightful hike through the woods with markers telling the history and stories of the area including stories of the Abenaki people and the establishment of the reservation area of the White Mountains National Forest. 

The hike off the trail to the falls certainly seemed much further than the half mile it was stated to be, but it was worth it when we arrived. Thompson Falls were a hidden gem up until 2011 - when the Thompson Falls Trail became an official trail of the White Mountain National Forest - the falls had largely remained a mystery. Apart from an appearance on the 1942 USGS North Conway quadrangle and a brief mention in an AMC White Mountain Guide dating to the 1950's. It is still a very secluded, very pretty, picturesque cascade of water over a clam shaped ledge without the heavy foot traffic associated with other falls in the area, in fact we were entirely alone. 

After a somewhat strenuous morning of hiking, we headed north again in search of sustenance. We stopped in Gorham as there appeared to be a plethora of eateries, however as we walked down Main St it looked more and more deserted. Everywhere was closed. I'm not sure if Gorham comes alive in the evening, but it definitely sleeps during the day. After grabbing a Burger King (teenage boys turn into monsters if left hungry for too long), we headed west and back down the other side of Mt. Washington through Crawford Notch, where the scenery is just as impressive. 

For weeks I had been craving ramen; really craving real ramen and whinging about not being able to have it so when my boyfriend said he'd found a restaurant that did ramen, and it appeared to be real ramen, I was over the moon. That restaurant was The Peach Tree in Shrewsbury where Chris Burt and his team bring love, enthusiasm and passion for great food, local ingredients and fabulous flavours together on plates that can only be described as works of art.

I was in love with the food from that very first night and when we returned a fortnight later we had the huge honour of meeting Chris and talking about the upcoming opening of Momo No Ki and the launch of his book. To hear that they were opening another restaurant next door dedicated to the amazing foods and flavours of south-east Asia already had me ecstatic, but to hear and see Chris talk about it with such passion combined with the exquisite pictures of food in the book had me enraptured.

Tonight was opening night and it was as wonderful as I expected. On arrival we were greeted by the lovely Kirstie and made to feel like we were walking into a friend's home. The decor and vibe works perfectly to capture the essence of a more casual dining experience partnered with the exquisite food and service we've come to expect from The Peach Tree. 

The Piggy Bits brought over from The Peach Tree are the perfect fusion of Shropshire ingredients and south East Asian flavours. Crispy and moreish, these little morsels of deliciousness wetted the appetite perfectly; and also gave the boyfriend an opportunity to practice his chopstick skills. 

The Kangaroudon consisted of perfectly cooked kangaroo that melts in the mouth along with a dashi that was packed full of umami. The Taishoken combined the wonderfully crispy Middle Farm pork belly with perfectly cooked Togarashi scallops in a delicately balanced Xo dashi. And the MoMo Mojito is quite simply awesome. 

So whether you fancy ramen or fish and chips, either The Peach Tree or Momo No Ki promises to take you on a multisensory journey of wonderment.

Momo No Ki is available now from all good book retailers

@MomoNoKiRamen and @ThePeachTree1 are both on Twitter 

If when I tell you misogyny exists you retort so does misandry; if when I tell you I get groped in bars you tell me it's because of how I look; if when I call you out on defending a convicted rapist you go on to make a rape joke you are the reason I'm a feminist. 

Whether it was my recent feminist rants and tonight's discussion about misogyny or not, I was acutely aware on my walk back from the station of feeling like a potential victim purely by virtue of being female. I was acutely aware that the clacking of my heels were potentially an advertisement to a possible attacker. 

Booing is an age-old cathartic expression of disapproval that supposedly makes angry fans feel a bit better. But does it?

I can live with a wonky smile. I can live with a Roger Moore eyebrow. I can live with getting Botox. I can live with not being able to pull duckface. I can live with not being able to frown. I can not live with The Fear. 

Copley Square is one of my favourite places in the world. It conjures memories of balmy summer days, fresh squeezed lemonade, dads tossing footballs to their sons, piano concertos, market stalls selling sunflowers as big as your head.

Four months tomorrow I turn 30. When my mother asked what I wanted to do for my 30th she was expecting an answer along the lines of a house party, a spa day, a meal, a weekend away. The answer she actually got was the Blenheim Triathlon.

Playing their first hometown gig in almost twelve months, Pressure Kids once again took Tamworth by storm. Fans packed into the small upstairs room at Em's Bar on Friday night to witness an energy packed, vivacious performance that has become a trademark of Pressure Kids shows.

While everybody was gushing over the sex scenes in 50 Shades, many failed to recognise the damaging message that it is romanticising a controlling, abusive relationship. Not that there is anything wrong with engaging in an S&M lifestyle, but the first book many women and girls, by their own admission, have ever read is the story of a young, naive girl being coerced into signing a contract that blurs the line between consent and control. Not to mention that it is written in the style of a teen romance crossed with a Mills & Boon novel and that most of the sex scenes are more cringeworthy than erotic.

On New Year's Day this year I woke up to the news that Dave Hodgson had lost his battle with metastatic melanoma. I'd never met Dave, he was a friend of my boyfriend at the time and living in Dubai, but we talked regularly on Twitter, mostly late at night about baseball and bucketlists.

There's only one man I am more in love with than Jack Reacher, and that's Joe Pike. I think I may have a type when it comes to my crushes on literary characters - a bit moody, quiet, devastatingly attractive and massive.