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Monday, October 27, 2008

Pressin' Things

Well - been absent for a while, rushing about.
Bathroom's sinking. Everything bought and paid except the very floor to stand it all on; so there's a lovely suite sitting in the van. Oh dear.

Only one thing to do. Ignore it. So, yesterday, all hands turned to the need to crush the mountains of poor defenseless apples that have been gathering since I mentioned to the neighbourhood that I was building a press. And after a couple of trial pressings, a small posse of villagers descended to process the apples into muslin wrapped cheeses, in preparation for squeezing. Barrels of Bramleys from our tree, mixed with eating apples various. Friends sitting in the dining room, cutting out the bad bits, chunk chopping, minced in the Moulinex food processor, Three drums to each cheese. Five cheeses to each pressing and out flows a gallon of tasty, cloudy, golden brown, juice each time.
Lovely. Five gallons flow between the start of the Archers Omnibus and the beginning of the Food Programme. The bulk of which was added to the three gallons pressed last week and already fermenting into cider, the ultimate apple preserve!

After clearance of the worst of the frenzied apple cull, enough space discovered for a lunch of olive bread, apple chutney and brie - all washed down with a little of the morning's liquid produce.

No time to rest for long, clocks changed, early darkness promised. A barrel of dry apple pulp is taken to the allotment for composting and the empty barrel - and barrow - is brim filled with the sweetest of windfall eating apples. And here we go again...

Two and one half gallons of sweet apple juice squeezed out before the light fades. Working up a sweat in the crisp clear early evening. Some more juice added to the cider barrel, some bottled, the rest sacrificed to a pan on the stove for a slightly too warm attempt at pasturising. Still very drinkable although some of the brightness of colour and flavour lost. Lessons learned. More clearing and cleaning, tea cooked, and what a surprise?

Yet more apple juice.

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Dodgy poetry

Whilst searching for my Blue Peter badge last night, still un-found which is hardly surprising, I happened across some decidedly dodgy poetry. By way of explanation, I once worked soul destroying weekends collecting eggs in a battery farm. The chickens were the brightest creatures there. As the sole member of the workforce with the requisite number of fingers and toes for decimal calculations, I recorded the egg production rates on little slips. To keep myself amused, I doodled on the back of them.

Here's a couple of these recently found archives...

Wherever I go, so does me go.
I hope you never meet my alter-ego.


Dog chews Dog

It's dog eats dog, and Jane eats Peter,
Pat just sits where Peter fell.
Pat the dog has tasted Peter,
Loves his flavour, loves his smell.
But poor old Pat has none of Peter,
Hungry Jane eats Pat as well.

Probably why I don't write songs very often! Hopefully I won't find anymore when I resume the Blue Peter badge search...