Since I last posted on T.F.T. back in October 2024, much has changed, and largely for the better. The date Jade in Chelsea was posted was the day we completed on a house and flew out to Japan for two weeks. Seriously. Mum and her fella were up to celebrate with us, and we went to our local for lunch, awaiting the call from our solicitor. The European was working, disassociating from the realities of leaving our spacious, high-ceilinged palace for somewhere a little less high-ceilinged and not quite as palatial.
The lunch was disappointing, as it often is at The Guardhouse. Where we are (and where we will remain, as the new apartment is in the next warehouse along the road), we have three pubs, listed here in order of greatness. Salt, which is great for locally brewed, ever-changing beers and decent pizzas; The Dial Arch, which is great for beers and nibbles in the sun, with an average food menu that’s fit for mopping up too much alcohol; and finally, The Guardhouse, which is great for working from the pub. It has a food menu that’s pitched a little posher than The Dial Arch but has the consistency of the Lizzie Line. This, for the out-of-towners, means it’s patchy.
Nevertheless, in The Guardhouse we were—no idea why—eating slices of burnt steak and ale pies, when the solicitor called. The European came to join us, and we toasted the moment. She, without a drink, poured a little of my Beavertown into a water tumbler, and the four of us clinked glasses. We then walked to Foxtons to collect the keys. Far from the life-defining moment completing on a house was meant to be, we were awarded the keys in a flimsy cardboard box resembling something more used to containing fried chicken, and made our way to the apartment for a quick show-around.
There wasn’t much time to waste, as that very same evening we were on our way to Heathrow for two weeks in Japan. The food out there was more than a little better than what we ate at The Guardhouse, some of which, motivation willing, will make its way onto the blog. We planned our trip around the nuptials of two dear friends in Kyoto, where the wedding breakfast was held at Restaurant Hiramatsu Kodaiji and was, in all honesty—and no offence to anyone else whose wedding I have attended—the best food I have ever eaten at such a bash.
Other highlights of the trip included spending Halloween in Osaka, rainy walks through the spectacular Aokigahara Forest, spending the night in the Pompompurin Room at the Mitsui Garden Hotel in Ginza, and a perfect dinner at T Nakameguro, the world’s only purveyor of a certain type of Wagyu beef, the Omi T-bone (I will certainly be writing about this). Oh, and we rented a car! Turns out driving in Japan is expensive and requires parking skills I can only dream of possessing.
Back in the U.K., I wrapped up one job and started another in early December, a week before my birthday, opening a hotel in Mayfair that will become one of the best in the world. No hyperbole… seriously.
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is pretty much what I have been doing for the past nine months. Yes, there have been wonderful and un-wonderful meals along the way, but I have never been busier at work, and the blog has slipped again. The hotel opened today, 1 September 2025, and is full of amazing restaurants. For obvious reasons, I will leave their write-ups to others, but trust me, they are unbelievable. Now that the hotel is open, I hope to catch up on T.F.T., speeding through a year of memories. So, in the spirit of new starts and new openings, I have refreshed the theme to something minimal and orange, and will begin a new series of short posts to rekindle my own tastebuds—not to lament a year lost, but to celebrate a year of adventures, chaos, new beginnings, and fond reflections, where food, once again, led the way.
The food thing. 
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