PURPLE TSUNAMI & MARROW RUM

My dear ladies and occasional gentleman, please bare with me as these little jottings are an attempt at thedrunkencyclist.com ‘Wine Writing Challenge’

Oh dear a magpie has just flown across the window, that doesn’t bode well for Jeff’s wine writing challenge, not that I am superstitious. But I did salute him, right hand to forehead, whilst saying, “Good day Mr Magpie how are you today? How’s your wife and children on this fine day.

Perhaps it was a crow, after all I did get excited this morning when I saw a hare out of the window, until I peeked through the binoculars and noted that it was in fact a pheasant!

What has this all got to do with wine you may ask and the answer would be, nothing!  So I had better get on as I have used up 142 of my 1000 words.

What do I know about wine I am sorry to say not a lot but I do enjoy drinking it. When I was a child there wasn’t any wine drunk or kept at home.

My father had a spell of making elderberry wine and it was maturing in the pantry in a wonderful old stoneware barrel with a bung in the side.

One memorable day my brother accidently knocked the BUNG out. It was like the ‘LITTLE DUTCH BOY’ trying to put his finger in the DYKE. As fast as we tried whilst slipping and sliding in the brilliant purple juice, we could not get the bung back in. The ELDERBERRY tide washed over our white socks and sandals on its way to spread across the kitchen floor like a PURPLE TSUNAMI covering everything in its path.

We stood and stared as it seemed like twice as much liquid had come out than could ever had been inside the barrel. We were THUNDERSTRUCK WITH FEAR. This was big! Bigger than the MARROW RUM incident!

My dad’s forays into home brewing had started with a net shopping bag, an extremely large marrow, some brown sugar and an airing cupboard. Apparently this is all you need to make marrow rum.

Having previously cut the top off the marrow, he scooped out the seeds, filled it up with dark brown sugar and put the top back on. Then he placed said marrow inside the net and hung it in the warm space in the AIRING CUPBOARD between my mother’s pristine WHITE COTTON bed sheets.

The MARROW RUM dripped from the bottom of the netted marrow into the waiting receptacle nestled below. We were instructed not to open the airing cupboard door as a constant heat needed to be maintained.

My sensible mother ignored this rule of course as she went about her housewifely duties, not amused about the miss-use of her laundry aid as she slapped her linen down huffily.

A few weeks later we were sat at the table at tea-time when there was a strange WHOOMPH from upstairs. The smell was INTOXICATING as we all trooped upstairs to the landing to find liquid seeping from underneath the airing cupboard door.

As my father gingerly opened the airing cupboard door, my mother’s face was a picture and on my father’s face was FEAR.  The MARROW had exploded! You cannot imagine the mess it had made.

My brother and I were just glad that this mess for once was nothing to do with us.

Which brings me back to the PURPLE PERIL, there was no way we were going to be able to conceal our crime. Our only chance was damage limitation but as fast as we tried to mop it up, more seem to appear. We had a growing pile of purple tea-cloths and towels but a never-ending supply of ELDERBERRY JUICE, so there was only one thing left to do.

My mother had been hanging out the washing but as we heard her footsteps approach the back door we both spontaneously burst into TEARS. With the MARROW RUM incident seared into our mother’s memory and her soft heart, we knew crying was guaranteed to extricate us from a potentially sticky situation with our father.

So that was my introduction to ALCOHOL but I am happy to say that my adult experiences are a definite improvement, although that MARROW RUM did taste delicious, licked off a sneaky finger.

My favourite wines are WHITE. I still haven’t managed to educate my palate to a red, although my husband is always trying to convince me of their merits.

A couple of years ago we cruised down the RHINE and oh how I enjoyed the wines of this wonderful region. The wine from German is particularly LIGHT and DELICATE. Unfortunately because of the market flood of CHEAP SWEET WINES in the 70’s people are a bit SNIFFY about GERMAN wines and won’t try them

REISLING is the KING of white wines from the RHINE and the most important grape. It is thought to have originated from various wild vines on the Upper Rhine in the 11th and 12th centuries. The grape  “RHINE REISLING” was first mentioned in the 15th century and the heat-storing mineral slate soil of the RHINE and MOSELLE gives the wine its UNIQUE TASTE. The wines are striking for their fine crisp, tangy, elegant and fruity flavour; though often thought of as sweet, most are either dry or off-dry.  

Reisling has now found a home in the New World, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa where it is proving to be well-suited.  You may not know that the famous ICE-WINES of Canada are mostly made of Reisling.

I went through a dodgy period of drinking ROSE but you need to buy wisely as some are too sweet for my taste.

I am finding it difficult to tear myself away from the German wines so as yet I have not sampled the New World wines.

But my dear ladies and occasional gentleman let us set forth together, and sip a few like the HUMMINGBIRD MOTH, then share results.

SPRING FAYRE, GLOSSY MUMMYS & DAISYS

SPRING FAYRE, GLOSSY MUMMYS & DAISYS
What fun my dear ladies and occasional gentleman, Ronald and I have been spending a few days in the COTSWOLDS, with my lovely daughter-in-law and son.

On Friday we attended a SPRING FAYRE in the garden of a very lovely lady, who opened her home and garden for the event in aid of the local CHURCH.

What a lot of YUMMY-MUMMYS and how LOVELY, GLOSSY and BEAUTIFULLY dressed they were. Tripping about amongst the flowers and over the miniature MOAT. Dangling their ROSY-CHEEKED babies and watching their DARLING CHILDREN chase amongst the DAISYS.

PONY-RIDES, name the twin LAMBS and a RAFFLE plus a lovely lunch or TEA and CAKES were on offer, all whilst the SUN was thankfully shining.

Enjoying a lively chat on the lawn with some of the LOVELY LADIES, whilst waiting for the RAFFLE to be drawn, I heard the magic words “I THINK IT’S WINE O’CLOCK” , as WINE GLASSES, ICE-CUBES and WINE appeared. It was only 3 O’Clock perfect.

Yours Springily

Celia

FALLING OVER JUICE, DAD’S FROCK & MY HOOCHIE-COOCHIE

FALLING OVER JUICE, DAD’S FROCK & MY HOOCHIE -COOCHIE
My dear ladies and occasional gentleman, I apologise for my absence, I only hope as the saying goes ‘ABSENCE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER”.

In my defense I have been up to my HOOCHIE-COOCHIE in the pantomime. “OH NO YOU HAVEN’T!” “OH YES I HAVE!”.

We start at 6.00 putting on the MAKE-UP and there is nearly always a RUGBY SCRUM between the men as to who gets in the MAKE-UP CHAIR first. What is it with men and make-up, it is always the same whatever production I am in or DIRECTING.

TO be perfectly honest we all love the DRESSING-UP, the make-up and becoming a different character but the men just cannot wait to put a FROCK AND MAKE-UP on and heaven forbid you try and put a different eyeshadow colour on them!

It makes for some interesting conversations such as “Chloe if you bring your DAD’S FROCK up I can do the alterations”. “Stuart, you have BLUE EYESHADOW or PINK ?”

They are an amazing bunch of people and their AGES RANGE FROM 4 YEARS OLD TO 90 YEARS OLD. It is a joy to watch them come together over the 7 weeks of rehearsals bonding into this enthusiastic cast. They support and help each other and we all have so much FUN which is a commodity worth its wait in gold. A great VILLAGE EVENT and we have our last performance this evening.

There is a quantity of ‘FALLING OVER” juice consumed throughout the week’s run (only by the adults of course) so next week I shall be ABSTAINING. This may make me a little GRUMPY so I apologise in advance if I am a little ACERBIC.

Yours Applausingly

Celia

POTATOS & PATIENCE

POTATOS & PATIENCE

Oh my lord, how many instructions and discussions does it take to BAKE  TWO JACKET POTATOS?

On my way home yesterday afternoon, I popped into LIDLS and bought two large POTATOS, a bar of SWISS CHOCOLATE (they don’t sell MALTESERS) and a bottle of WINE. A nice easy supper I thought and I expect you my lovely ladies and occassional gentleman, thought the same.

That is until Ronald decided to cook said potatos.

It started well.

“I’ve scrubbed the potatos and PRICKED them, now what tin shall I use?” said Ronald, holding out his new square pan with ridges and his round pan

“The round one”

Five minutes later. “I’ve put them in the oven and set the timer for 30 minutes”

“Well done”

“After 30 minutes I’ll turn them over”

“OK”

“When I’ve turned them over, I’ll put them on again for 30 minutes”

“Tthey will take quite a while”

“Yes perhaps I’ll check them now they’ve been on for 20 minutes”

“OK”

“No they’re still hard”

“OK”

“Alarms gone off, I’ll turn them over”

“OK”

“I’ve turned them over, I’ll put the alarm on for 30 minutes”

“OK”

“They’re getting softer”

“OK”

“Everythings ready, just waiting for the potatos”

“OK”

“They’ll be ready in about 17 minutes to put the oil on”

“OK”

“I’m putting the olive oil on now”

“OK”

Ten minutes later “Here we are all ready” Ronald places potatos on the table.

“Are you sure they are ready? You have only just put the oil on.

“Yes” confidently

I sit, I cut through the SOFT skin, oh-oh, they are hard in the middle and I don’t know about you but that is why I put OLIVE OIL on my potatoes because it makes them crispy on the outside not SOGGY! 

“Ronald you have no patience, you just have to put the potatos in the oven and forget about them”

“Well mine are fine, I’m hungry” Ronald eats his potato, casting moody glances at me, whilst I wait for mine to finish cooking in the oven.

It’s tough being a CHEF.

Ronald’s still in a huff and his new CERAMIC PANS haven’t arrived yet.

Yours Hungrily

Celia

 

 

 

 

 

 

PHYSALIS

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PHYSALIS

Whilst shopping with Ronald,  unfortunately TESCOS not WAITROSE as it was the closest; I felt in need of a little boost of POTASSIUM. So I popped into the trolley next to the ‘BLACK TOWER’ Fruity White, (fresh, smooth and fruity just like me) a packet of mixed dried fruit and nuts. Fairly innocuous I hear you say, well you would think so. Ronald and I stopped on the way home in a quiet spot and indulged ourselves and I must say it did leave a tangy taste in my mouth.

On arriving home as I went to dispose of the empty packet I noticed the ingredients, one of which was Physalis! To say I was shocked was an understatement, it doesn’t take a genius to work out the anagram!

I write this as a warning CHECK THE INGREDIENCE OF YOUR NUTS BEFORE YOU INDULGE!

Yours Tangily

Celia

BIKERS BIRTHDAYS BALLOONS LEOPARD PRINT & FARTS

2013 biker gnome bristol

BIKERS BIRTHDAYS  BALLOONS LEOPARD PRINT & FARTS. As you know my friend Veronica and I went to the Theatre to see young William Young in ‘Kabaret’ (very dissappointed not a HANDKNIT on stage)  We had a little pootle around the CHARITY SHOPS, we do love a good rummage and then popped in a WEATHERSPOONS for some lunch. Unfortunately Veronica inadvertantly locked eyes with the wierd man on the adjacent table who appeared to be looking at something questionable on his laptop!

We studied the menu and Veronica said” I think I’ll have the 5 INCH WILLIE”. To say I was shocked ladies and the occasional gentleman is to put it mildly and  the wierd man became very excited and started giving poor Veronica ‘THE GLAD EYE’.

“Celia!” she shouts “I said I’ll have the 5 bean chilli” really she does need to speak up. Unfortunately having captured the lust of Mr Weird poor Veronica had to put up with his laser stare all through luncheon, until he sidled up requesting she looked after his things for a moment before disappearing.

We decided to make a speedy retreat after downing our WINE & GIN we sped past the bar towards the exit where Veronica ran straight into Mr Weird OOPS!

On leaving the Theatre we decided to have a drink  and called in at a public house next to the train station. Outside there were a number of motorcycles obviously on a touring holiday. Outside the entrance we were greeted by two men clad in LEATHER TATTOOS AND CHAINS  (see picture above) how friendly. Inside there was a jolly bunch of similar chaps and their ladies who it seemed were celebrating a birthday as there were balloons and streamers what fun! I do like the smell of leather don’t you? There was wall-to-wall black leather, it was difficult to order a drink but Veronica can be very forceful.

Whilst waiting for the train a lady in a LEOPARD PRINT ensemble started chatting to us. She had a leopard print suitcase, leopard print hand-luggage, leopard print handbag and a leopard print dress, how wild!  She suddenly delved into her hand-luggage and pulled out an enormous book which she thrust into my hands telling me she thought I would enjoy it; the book is about witches! How random!

Settled on the train Mark our HOSPITALITY MANAGER announced “I will be passing my  trolley through  (cough cough) with a selection of drinks including white wine, red wine (cough) oh no we have’n’t got any red wine but we do have rose and that’s nice.  Also I can make you a delicious bacon roll (cough, fart, cough) don’t be shy, give us a try”

I am sorry ladies and the occasional gentleman but we were both crying and helpless with laughter although our fellow passengers failed to see the funny side; all too busy with their phones, pads and lap-tops. They do not realise they are missing out on real life and how funny and wonderful it can be, especially sharing it with good friends.

Yours hysterically

Celia

JOCOQUE & FRIJOLES!

JOCK-COCK & FRIDGE-HOLES? Why would you?
Dear ladies and the occasional gentleman, Veronica & myself decided to venture out on a late summer’s evening for a ladylike supper by the sea.
“Sounds lovely” I hear you say, the idea certainly was the actuality was slightly different.
We arrived at the restaurant and I secured a table outside on the decking, looking out over a perfect azure sea, dappled with early evening sunlight.
Veronica at the bar requested two glasses of wine to be put on the bill and the menu.
The young woman (definately not a lady) abruptly told her ” You carnt ave a tab, you’ll have to pay for those drinks”
Veronica politely pointed out that we would like to enjoy a drink whilst perusing the menu and would pay altogether at the end of our meal. Veronica paid for the drinks!
We sat with this glorious view but with the monologue from what can only be described as a ‘RICHARD HEAD’ booming from the next table.
We surreptitiously whilst pretending to look at the view moved to the other end; bliss, silence. Which was then rudely interrupted by a FAT COMEDIENNE bursting into ‘I AM THE MUSIC MAN’ from the function room next to us.
I downed my chilled Rose, Veronica concealed her white wine spritzer and we proceeded down the back stairs and along the promenade, Veronica sipping as we went to another seaview restaurant.  Meeting on the way a  WHITE POODLE, rather handsome who was taking a tattooed skinhead who wasn’t, for a walk. He attempted conversation we just smiled and petted him, clever poodle more articulate than it’s owner.
We arrived and climbed the stairs to be greeted by SOMBREROS and “hello ladies it’s Mexican Night”
Veronica muttering “I don’t feel like a Mexican”
Me: “Can we have one of the tables by the window please?”
Sombrero: “No, I can give you a table at the back”

Ladies what would you have done? I am sure the same as us.  We DID NOT want to eat something called JOCK-COCK or FRIDGE-HOLES and we did not want to sit at the back without a view when there were two tables by the window free. We declined in a ladylike manner and found a comfy seat downstairs with seaviews and no sombreros; well not until the SOMBREROED young man who brought our meal turned up.

We may plan our next foray for a ladylike supper more carefully.

Yours Guacomoled

Celia

 

 

 

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I must apologise for yesterdays title, I of course meant to say a TIP from Ronald.

Assembled in the picture are the ingredients to make a WEDDING CAKE, I kid you not!

Last week whilst walking with Gloria we were accosted by the lady who is organising the local church’s FLOWER FESTIVAL ‘A CELEBRATION OF MARRIAGE’. Before I could say I was going on holiday to Patagonia, Gloria and I had been given a window each to decorate, a deadline for producing our framed WEDDING PICTURES and I was on a promise to bake 4 dozen scones for CREAM TEAS!

I have many talents, FLOWER ARRANGING is not one of them. I have to somehow turn this little lot into a wedding cake. I requested Ronald’s help but he grunted and retired to his shed with a beer and the paper.

Yours Nervously

Celia

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