The Concrete Jungle

This year I've been attempting to do a better job than I've previously managed in producing edible goods. With a tiny concrete yard this is problematic, but armed with a magical self watering thing kindly given to me for my birthday last year, I seem to be doing okay-ish.

At the side I've got a rogue tomato plant I started growing indoors, but had to put outwhen I buggered off on holidays. It went a bit mad and I'mhaving to support it on our broken washing line. Look - it even has some actual tomatoes, which is a great improvement on my fruit-light-foliage-rich effort from last year!

The tomato plants at the back are just mental. They keep collapsing under their own weight and I've had to rig up a ridiculous string support system. Same goes for the runner beans, which are actually starting to be real beans. Not sure I'll have enough to make this fabulous stuff though.

I thought I'd try something different alongside the standards, so I planted some patty pan squash, which are HUGE and starting to flower.

I also found some potatoes trying to become a new lifeform in the back of my kitchen cupboard so decided to plant them. It's a bit late in the season, but I've already hilled them a bit and they seem to be doing okay.

Meanwhile, indoors, my chili and pepper plants are going for it. The chili is nearly three feet tall. Here's hoping for spicy goodness.

A day in the life...

Yesterday I took part in the Day of Archaeology. This was a great project and I've really enjoyed reading the posts. It was also nice that folks I've met at various points in my life: Rome, Canada, etc, turned up as contributors.

In case anyone wants to hear about the sorts of things I get up to of a day, my post is here.

Things I have learned in the last six months

I have learned that bin liners are waterproof but not breathable, and that Northern Jutland is very windy indeed.

I have learned that I have an unhealthy love of Ukrainian disco pop.

I have learned that, if I were a character in a zombie movie, I would be the one that so nearly made it, but died tragically just metres from safety.

I have learned that a magical world of labyrinthine wonder exists in North Yorkshire.

I have learned how the Asturians pour their cider: po-faced and from a great height.

And, finally, I have learned that I can get vertigo whilst sitting in the gods at the theatre whilst watching Dylan Moran, but not whilst standing on a roof.

Another new addition

January was a bit of a spending frenzy, first Maud then 'Czarrna Malgorzata' (Black Margaret).



I'd been keeping my eye out on Ravelry for a second hand spinning wheel, and when this lovely lady came up in Leeds I couldn't resist. She's Polish - a Kromski Mazurka - and so she had to be called after the only Polish Goth geologist I know.

It's taken me a while to get the hang of it, and here are my first wobbly attempts. You can see them getting progressively better... I hope.


1. My first attempt - plain orange merino plied with an orange/brown/yellow mix. Looks fine until you take it off the bobbin!




2. Duck egg merino, navajo plied. The plying was hard, but it didn't turn out too bad considering.





3. My latest effort, jacob humbug top plied with pink and brown merino. It's definitely getting a wee bit more even.





Now I just need to spin enough to actually make something!





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Meet Maud

She's pretty, though it's a bit disconcerting having something your exact shape and size loitering around the house.

It's even weirder when she's dressed.

If in doubt, pour some booze on it

I have to admit that I have a default setting when it comes to foodstuffs. If I have no idea what to do with something, I make it into an alcoholic drink.

This year I've done a few (including my ginger beer and and some experimental elderflower champagne), but it all culminated in a Christmas-inspired liqueur frenzy. I get most of my liqueur information from this excellent site but tend to ignore all their advice and just make it up as I go.

The two main recipes I made this year were an odd concoction of elderberry and pomegranate liqueur plus the filthy-sounding milk liqueur.

I picked some elderberries from the tree at the end of my road, and having never actually tasted them I was loathe to commit a whole load of vodka to its cause. To counteract any possible issues I popped to a local greengrocers and noticed they had pomegranates on sale. Bonus! So two pomegranates, 135g of cooked up elderberries in sugar (it's all I could pick) and vodka sat in a bottle for a few months. I fished out the elderberries after a couple of months, leaving the pomegranates for another few weeks. In hindsight I should have separated them in some sort of bagging device, rather than spend hours individually picking them out of the mush. Still, turned out ok in the end.



For the milk liqueur, I found this bizarre-looking recipe on my travels around t'interwebs and thought I absolutely had to try it. It's really not as disgusting as it sounds! I had a few coffee filter-related accidents, so the final result was a triple filtered amber nectar. Sadly, I didn't really get to try it as it went to other people for Christmas presents. I'll have to get reports back. It certainly looked and smelled good, despite how grim it looked before filtering.

Review: National Trust Dark Chocolate Ginger Truffles

We were initially suspicious on first opening the box - the chocolates just looked too shiny, freshly buffed. We put our fears to one side and braved a taste.

The first reaction was one of perplexity. What was that overriding taste sensation? It was narrowed down to a strong taste of Milton sterilizing fluid, with notes of urinal cake. Strangely, the taste improved with chewing, bringing out the supposed ginger flavour. Some of us, having thought to ourselves that they couldn't possibly be as bad as we'd originally thought, gave them a second go. After the same initial flavour, we tried to convince ourselves that they were improving, or maybe our taste buds had been irrevocably bleached into submission?

None went back for a third... until ten minutes later when one valiant soul ventured again, in the hope that the upward trajectory of flavour improvement would continue. Sadly he'd left it too long and the quality had plummeted back to square one.

No one could bring themselves to finish the last three in the box, and we'd thought that was the end of it. How wrong we were. A few moments later and the Milton urinal cake began its repeating hell.