This is Ollie. He came to visit us last Friday. He's like an understated version of Gambit from X-Men.
Ollie is a confidence trickster. An illusionist. A bloke that's good with rabbits. A magician. You know, cards and stuff. No rabbits though. Bit disappointing. But cards are pretty cool. Especially when they go jumping all over the place in front of your eyes without actually appearing to move at all. Most of the time they're just still. But they're jumpy creatures, cards - one click of a finger and the jack of spades has shot out from under the bottom of the deck, zapped itself through some invisible vortex (the same one missing socks end up in?) to find itself residing, casual as you like, in your back pocket, paper in one hand, cup of tea in the other, wondering what took you so long to find it.
And all you can do is go 'whoa, that is chicken oriental' and look around to others for confirmation that they too missed the invisible vortex, the unseen card and sock carrying highway, to check that you are not the only one who feels like an eight year old again - giddy with excitement because something strange and cool is happening that you don't understand.
It's all way beyond us. But then, so is the tube on a Monday morning. Ollie, however, sees the vortex highway. Actually, he is its traffic controller, ushering card after card up and down it at his making. He's not seen our socks though (where's the practical application of your skills man, we ask?)
Check him out making us go 'whoa' (and before you ask, no, it's not fake).
This is a picture of me with my dad. My dad is a town crier, and you may have seen him crop up on our blog from time to time. He used to come to parents' evenings at my school dressed as a pirate. And he once performed a town cry in the nude on Studland nudist beach.
Growing up was hard.
Today he rocked up to Fruit Towers with a little cry he'd written just for us, dedicating it to Gurdeep (who had his birthday yesterday). The camera work is a little shaky, and the battery cuts out halfway through the cry, but like my dad always says, a man in weird clothes ringing a bell and shouting loudly in the middle of an office in London is definitely worth a watch.
Have a listen and if you're feeling creative, get guessing as to what the two and a half missing lines could be and the person who comes closest, or makes us laugh the most, can have some freebies (keep it clean, mind).
Just post your ditties below by Friday 14th August and we'll announce the winner (in the style of my pa) next week.
The development team from The Fat Duck came in the other day to see us. They're the people who invent all of the groundbreaking new dishes that eventually make it onto the menu of what is arguably the world's finest restaurant. Our Lucy (Head of Products/Chief Smoothie Inventor) recently spent 3 months working at The Fat Duck, learning lots of foodie tricks and techniques, so she thought she'd invite her new friends over to ours for a day.
"Mmm, dog food"
The highlight of the day was the sensory challenge. Blindfolds were donned (blue for The Fat Duck, pink for us) and a range of weird smelling things were passed around, with points being scored for guessing what the 'thing' was.
"But is it Pal or Winalot Prime?"
"I'm more of a Whiskas girl myself"
We can confirm that dog food, garden herbs and some other tricky items were on the menu, but modesty forbids us from revealing which team won the challenge. That information will remain strictly between us and losers.
Olympic rowing champion, Steve Williams, popped in this afternoon for a cup of tea and a chat with our Sally.
As well as coordinating his outfit with Think Pink day, he also brought his gold medals along with him.
On closer inspection, my tip for the London 2012 Olympics would be to make the ribbons out of proper hardy stuff as the ribbons get frayed really quickly, what with all the people wanting to hold them and pretend they've just won gold at the Olympics.
Steve keeps his medals in a sunglasses bag in his pocket, rather than constantly round his neck, and when they're not on his person, they tend to be on the windowsill or in the glovebox of his car.