To describe New Street Station as a blight on the face of Brum is probably being a bit unfair to the unpleasant things in the world that are merely blights. At best, you could describe it as a necessary evil - an awful lot of us use it (140,000 every day, double the capacity it was built to deal with) but I don't imagine anyone likes the experience much.

It will come as no surprise when I say that I can't wait until it looks like this (the first half of which will be open at the end of this year):

So, imagine how chuffed I was when, before Christmas, I was able to be shown around the construction site. I was particularly impressed to see all the work going on out of public view whilst keeping the station up and running with little (if any at all) disruption.

Had it not been a breach of healthy and safety, I would have taken my hard hat off to the team from Network Rail and Mace who are delivering the project. As of the time of my visit, most of the work had been in relation to the new atrium (roughly the size of two football pitches) in what was the second floor of the old NCP car park.

However, over Christmas, the project went into overdrive. Between Christmas Day and 27 December, engineers used a 700 tonne crane to lift out an old section of the Navigation Street footbridge and install the new parts which extend it all the way to Platform 12.

Christmas also saw a new tower crane at the front of the station, the removal of the old Pallasades link bridge and escalator above Station Street, preparatory work on platforms 1-7 to construct the foundations for new public space and construction of new train crew accommodation above Platform 1, all achieved whilst Brummies hit the sales or went to the panto at the Hippodrome (which, if you are reading this before 29 January, I would wholeheartedly recommend seeing).

In what are troubled times for the construction industry, the project is also keeping a lot of people gainfully employed between now and 2015. It will also provide 350,000 sq ft of new development to the south of the station and, once completed, is anticipated to deliver 3,200 new jobs (650 in the John Lewis store alone).

We are also going to get a transport hub fit for the 21st century; one which will not only help make the daily commute a lot more pleasant but will provide a far-more-welcoming first impression for visitors to the Second City. It's good to have some good news to look forward to.

But, every silver lining comes with a cloud and I must admit to one reservation about the project: that pesky John Lewis. My good lady has intimated that it is going to result in the hard-earned Pemble shekels being spent on never-knowingly-undersold household knick-knacks that I (no doubt foolishly and incorrectly) suspect we could do without. I suppose I shouldn't complain too hard: I have been given 3 years' advance notice.

I am a bit surprised that more hasn't been made of this story. In case you missed it - and, given the lack of fanfare, it wouldn't be surprising if you had - November's issue of olive magazine voted Brum as Britain's foodiest place. We beat Ludlow into second place with Melton Mowbray and Edinburgh sharing the bronze medal position on the, no doubt tastily-constructed, podium.

What little coverage I have seen ranges from this article by distinguished food writer Matthew Fort, who, whilst acknowledging Brum's strengths, manages to cast some aspersions on the impartiality of the judging to fighting talk from some Ludlow foodies who seem to be a bit peeved about their town being knocked off its perch after it had enjoyed something of a monopoly on the number 1 spot over the past few years.

Compare this lack of fuss with how worked up we can get about whether Brum or Manchester is really the Second City (for example, see Karl Edge's excellent blogs from the summer - here and here - or how Digby Jones's views on the debate were reported in the Red Rose County). To repeat a question asked by Karl, who really wants to be known as 'second' anything?

Whilst Brummies are undoubtedly a self-effacing bunch, perhaps now's the time to indulge in some well-deserved shouting from the rooftops. Because, when it comes to matters foodie, we are second no longer.

And it's not as if it's Visit Birmingham saying this. It's olive. Whilst I must admit that I'm not a regular reader of the "stylish, monthly magazine for food lovers who enjoy cooking, eating out and foodie travel", I've no reason to doubt its impartiality and it seems to have its finger on the fashionable foodie pulse of the nation. Indeed, it is sufficiently trendy not to have a capital O at the start of its name, something which seems to be the height of contemporary chic to a 40-something lawyer and aspiring pedant when it comes to grammar.

So, here's to Birmingham: the First City of Food. Whether it's fine dining restaurants you can actually book a table at, wonderful food shops (a special mention for Steve and his excellent team at Rossiters Butchers in Bournville, the regular suppliers of tasty morsels to family Pemble as well as photographic stars of the article in olive), Moseley Farmers' Market, our great and diverse heritage (the balti and the creme egg were both invented here; what's not to like about that?) or anything else that we or our foodie chums at olive care to shout about, it's official - Brum is best. Let's celebrate that fact.

It's perhaps not the most auspicious of starts to my first blog in a few months that it should begin with a health warning. But this one does: beware the lawyer called Stuart who starts pretending that he knows something about life at the sharper end of our justice system.

But all is not well in the legal profession and it's a serious issue that affects us all. As part of the Government's austerity measures, the budget for legal aid in civil cases is being cut by £350 million.

Brummies take note!

No less an authority than the Post itself has suggested that Birmingham "risks being branded a city of party poopers" because only 12 applications have been made to close roads so that people can hold street parties to celebrate the royal wedding.

This compares unfavorably with those street party animals in Solihull (where double the number have applied) and ranks Brum alongside Dudley (again, only a dozen applications have been received). Mind you, and given the difference in sizes between the two places, these statistics suggest you're way more likely to find a street party in 'Swinging' Dudley on 29 April than you are in and around the no doubt gloomy and miserable streets of the Second City.

Or are you?

Last week, our elected representatives - or rather those not themselves in prison or on trial for expenses fraud - blew a metaphorical raspberry in the general direction of the European Court of Human Rights regarding the vexed question as to whether or not convicted prisoners residing at Her Majesty's pleasure should be able to vote. The issue is certainly divisive, and the recent comments from the Court's President comparing the UK to the Greek military dictators of the late 1960s probably hasn't helped.

Much of the debate seems to be polarised along strongly-held ideological lines. Those to the right of the political centre consider enfranchising convicted prisoners to be an extreme and dangerous idea which attaches more importance to criminals than it does to their victims. The Prime Minister has said that even having to contemplate giving the vote to prisoners makes him physically ill.

In the run up to Christmas, Laurence Simons (a legal recruitment firm) produced a report highlighting (to quote Jason Horobin, a director at Laurence Simons) the "disturbingly regressive picture of the opportunities open to those wishing to get into the law". The report's title says it all: "Educated the expensive way: legal profession's elitism gap widens". Mr Horobin concludes, in pretty bleak terms, that "Social exclusivity is rife in the industry" and that "the under-representation of those who can't afford a silver-plated education is getting worse, not better".

I should come clean at the outset; I've been to Sweden. Twice, actually. Although both were school holidays in the dim and distant past - staying with the good friends of my Mum and Dad whose existence I feel I must own up to in the interests of full disclosure - I still have warm memories of the country. Stunning scenery, very friendly locals most of whom spoke great English and I went on my first-ever roller coaster there; that final revelation alone surely being enough to show why I think fondly of the country and its people.

But, and in order to stress my objectivity, not all of my Swedish memories are great. On the first trip, family Pemble got caught in the worst rainstorm of any of our lives. Rain drops were bouncing back above my (admittedly not that tall) 10-year-old head and I was literally soaked to the skin. On the second trip, our home got burgled; something I (illogically I admit) still blame the Swedes for (because that was where we were when our neighbours phoned with the bad news) as opposed to the unfriendly Dundonians who actually committed the crime. And, worst of all, in 1987 IFK Gothenburg beat Dundee United in the final of the UEFA Cup, denying the boys in tangerine our best shot at European glory.

And I imagine most people probably have favourable impressions of the place. It's seen as liberal and tolerant of minority rights, with excellent health and education systems as well as a generous welfare state and a hard-won reputation for neutrality in its foreign policy. The reaction of Fredrik Reinfeldt, Sweden's Prime Minister and leader of the very Swedish-sounding Moderate Party, to the recent car bomb in Stockholm, seems to sum the place up quite well: "We must safeguard the open society where people can live together side by side".

It is also (along with Denmark and New Zealand) ranked as the least corrupt country in the World. To quote from the Heritage Foundation's freedom index report:
"Corruption is perceived as almost nonexistent. Sweden tied with Denmark and New Zealand for 1st place out of 179 countries in Transparency International's Corruption Perceptions Index for 2008. Comprehensive laws on corruption are fully implemented, and Sweden has ratified the 1997 OECD Anti-bribery Convention. The constitution and law provide for public access to government information."

What's more, it has incredibly strong laws protecting press freedoms, which Julian Assange has acknowledged is why WikiLeaks hosts its servers there in the first place (although it does have to be said the main base for the server looks like a Bond villain's lair).

All of which makes me question the conspiracy theories about the attempt to extradite Mr Assange. Mark Stephens, Mr Assange's solicitor (who is, like me, qualified to practise in England and Wales, countries rated as being less transparent and more corrupt than the one he is resisting Mr Assange's extradition to) has said that "It is unlikely that even if convicted Assange will go to jail, so in those circumstances one has to ask oneself why are the Swedish authorities so dead-set that he will spend Christmas in jail? Do they have the genes of Scrooge?" Another supporter, the writer Tariq Ali, has gone further suggesting that "The Swedes are acting on behalf of a bigger power".

Am I the only one who thinks these allegations are somewhat harsh on Sweden and its citizens? All the evidence suggests it's just not that sort of place.

I graduated over 17 years ago. It's not false modesty to admit that the fact that I managed to get a degree at all still leaves me somewhat (albeit very pleasantly) surprised. I spent the first 3 years of my course doing just enough work to get by, whilst spending as much time as possible failing to make any impression whatsoever on the student debating circuit, playing Sunday League football very badly indeed and realising that I just couldn't drink as much beer as medical students.

My final 2 terms were spent desperately researching and writing a dissertation I should have started sooner, cramming like crazy for my final exams and worrying about the imagery in the Bayeux Tapestry (there's a very strong argument that Harold wasn't killed by an arrow in the eye) whilst noticing that the onset of finals didn't alter the behaviour of medical students one little bit. Along the way, I made some wonderful friends, did (I hope) quite a lot of growing up and learned more about the legend of Robin Hood than is necessarily healthy given how often it is misrepresented in popular entertainment (if Robin, or someone like him, did exist - and the jury's out on that - he couldn't have lived during the reign of Richard the Lionheart; why not?).

To pay for it all, I enjoyed the generous support of the Bank of Mum and Dad, had a series of stereotypical student jobs (freezing raspberries on the nightshift being the toughest) and took out one of the first-ever student loans. I also managed to persuade a firm of solicitors to sponsor me through law school (with yet more help from my friendly parental bank plus as much money as I could make washing dishes) until, in 1995, I woke up one morning as a commuter with a suit, a briefcase and a training contract to become a solicitor.

All of the controversy surrounding the Browne Report, the proposed changes to student funding and the recent fees protest in London has got me thinking whether a 21st century version of me would have made the same choices; assuming, that is, that the changes in funding envisaged in England will be replicated in Scotland (where I happened to study) in due course.

On balance, I think I would still want to go to university and I would probably still like to study history on the basis that it was the only subject I got decent marks in at school. However, the key decision for 21st century me would be whether or not I thought getting the degree would be worth the debt I would incur in the process. And, if I did still go, would I adopt a more mature and grown-up approach to studying or would I still be led astray by medical students?

If I'm honest, I'm not sure that I know the answers, even with the benefit of hindsight. I can't pretend that I had a surfeit of wisdom or maturity aged 18, and 21st century me faces a far more difficult set of decisions. The one certainty is that I will graduate significantly poorer than I did first time around; I can only hope that I would emerge from the process somewhat wiser for the experience.

The telly has been put through its paces of late at Pemble Towers as my infinitely better half and I have been captivated by the BBC's Battle of Britain Season, marking the 70th anniversary of a truly remarkable historical event.

To anyone reading who might be wondering what the fuss is about (of which more later), there was more at stake in the summer and autumn of 1940 than whether Paul Daniels or Anne Widdecombe will be the first person kicked off the new series of Strictly (if you're interested, my good lady - who leads a double life as Strictly's answer to Mystic Meg - has her money on the magician).

I received a Father's Day card this year. Not, I admit, the most groundbreaking piece of news ever; and I'm prepared to concede that it's not an obvious link to a blog on the most misunderstood bit of punctuation in the English language.

But there is method to my madness. The card had been prepared with the help of Pemble Junior's nursery. Junior was the creative one. You can describe the wee one's input as either "an interesting study on the colour red with differing blocks of shade and texture complementing a challenging approach to the use of space on the canvas" or "some arbitrary splodges on a bit of card", but then I think you can reach similarly opposing conclusions about much of Jackson Pollock's work, and he's generally considered to be one of the most innovative artists of the last century.