If you'll forgive me...

While it's in my head, and before I lose it.


I know I make life a little awkward  by using the pseudonym "Wheelie". That began when I had a stalker for many years, who after over a year seems to have sugared off. As I'm putting my head above the parapet, slowly, I don't mind telling you that I'm a Yorkshireman called André. Nickname, Dray.


Wheelie is just fine and valid. I'm a reluctant occasional wheelchair user. Doubles as my computer chair.


About the post below.


Heritage Hedgerows. 


If there's a chance that your home was built before the 1930's in the UK, you may have a hawthorn bush or hedge. There's an excellent chance that hedge may have been there for hundreds of years before, and was treated with respect by the house builders. 


Hawthorne is a fiddly and awkward fruit to use because it's small, and has a hard seed. If you're patient, and like to purée a jam, it's nice mid-sweet jam. Personally (and this applies to Roe fruit too)  boil it with cored and peeled crab apples for about 25 mins until it's a mush. Shove the resulting paste through a fine sieve,  into a grease-proofed and buttered tray, and put in the bottom of an oven on a little-less-than slow cook heat (about 60 C, for a few hours - up to 24 hours. :) You'll end up with a fruit 'Leather' that will keep in a dry place for about 2 years.


Cut into thin strips, and give it to the kids as sweets. 


This won't apply to kids. Hawthorne is a natural, very mild, blood thinner. If, like me, you use medication, check with your GP.


  Elderberry. 


Elderberry - heck, can I overload you with recipes from wine from berries to crisped flowers in batter. Low calorie :)


However, it has a much longer history as a device, yup, device, planted near doors and gateways to ward off evil spirits. It was the technology of the time. Well, we're here now. Must be good.....

Talk about an Autumn bounty!


I've been gifted 10 lbs Blackberries, 12 lbs of Apples, 5 1bs of Hawthorn berries, and I've totally lost track of the amount of Damsons and Plums - and they all just keep coming.


I'll have to honest, and tell you it's left me all of a kerfuffle.  My first reaction is one of gratitude.Gosh, who wouldn't be?

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We don't live near countryside. It's a grey estate enlivened by the characters of the people that live here, a goodly and godly mix of young couples with kids and some who've lived here for 40 or more years. It's lucky enough to have a field nearby that only exists because it was too steep to build on.


That's supposed to be managed by The Wildlife Trust as a wild flower 'meadow' that's only fruitful in an obscure kind of way to those who know what to look for. But the older residents have planted apples and pears, blackcurrants and blackberries, Roe and Elderberry, and there's the odd patch of ancient Hawthorn boundary.


The local council started to modernise and redevelop much of the area. So out went some of those ancient Haws, hedgerows and trees - and in went samey walls and railing combo's. Thank the stars, at least for the outside, a few streets away they ran out of money.


That is just fine by me. The young parents taking their kids to and from school, have been taking carrier bags too, and showing them just how much is there for free. The older people have had such a glut, their inviting local children into their gardens to pick whatever they want.


Absolute magic. Knowledge I'd feared was going to peter out is saved, and another generation of purple faced, sticky fingered children from five to twenty are going to have birthright to pass to their children. Phew. That was close! :)

~~~~

Trouble with young kids though, is they can overdo it. Parents get fed up of 'purple' and sticky offspring, towels and furniture, Milk of Magnesia and 'Uffin' Chuffin' Jamie Oliver, and as Brillo Pads and children don't mix, well, usually......

Do you see where I'm going here? "Oo's t'bloke who does Branston and Apple pies and Stuff?"

Uhuh. 5 lb's Apples to the Pickles Bloke is a noble sacrifice. "Ee'does a nice Berry Jam". Indeed. "I've 'eard 'is Plums in Brandy and Sherry is 'smaart". Quite. "Dunt 'ee do Tomato Ketchup too?" 

Apple Pies. Home made Toffee. Cinder toffee (gorgeous), The list goes on. Since it would be immoral to charge, they have little to barter - my second reaction of 'What The Heck Am I Supposed to Do With All That' is easy. Christmas Chutney.

And I'm sorry, those of you who read this who have contributed. My Bear and I are Unanimous on this.  

Long John Silver here (See, I did hear that!) will give in return one Bear Sized (read :- Desperate Dan) Apple and whatever pie, and an honest to goodness 1826 Christmas cake. Deal?

Chatcya! Dray.

Odds and Old(ish) Sods.

Final day of spending a couple of days on my own. Sorta.

Bear and 14 year old daughter (Don't call me Tots) have spent a couple of days with oldest son camping at, er... Ingomells? Where, of course, it being bank August holiday, it chucked it down at least one day.

I was pleased because it was beginning to feel like I was living with Les Dawson. I needed a bit of me time. And ye small gods knows she's earned it.

So I was left under the infrequent care of Eldest Daughter. Who is unfortunately a pretty good mix of her mother and I. Looks like Bear, but... er.... Lets just say there's a little too much of my bluntness in there. She even made ME blush, and that's hard to do :)

Otherwise, it's me, two cats. One elderly female who just wants to sleep and eat, and Smudge the young male wipper-snapper, who is a mad midget who's out all night, and wants to be let in at 04:30.

~~~~

And Sigma the Dog. Oh, Dear. Dogs are not supposed to talk. Are they?

This bugger does. Let him into back garden. He's got an escape route. I'm hearing, and I mean this so sincerely folks, "I WANT MY MUM!". Daughter phones up "Um, dad, Sarah just phoned up, and she says she just walked past your place and all she could hear was "I WANT MY MUM!". He's sat outside the front gate.

So I fetch him in. Put Stuart Little on. He likes Stuart Little. Ten Minutes later, Guess what?

I WANT MY... Y'know the rest. I think he wants his mum. And Stewart Little is ok. For the first couple of times. I'm too old to be a Granddad to Grand children AND a dog.... Whatever Rod Stewart might think

Grey Hedgehog.

I've just had a pleasant shock.

I've posted a couple of times about a restoration I did on a well loved King James Bible from the 1600's?

It was a pleasure and a real labour of love. Had to be. I didn't charge, on principle. There are some things that you have to do, just because you have to.

Of course, I did my research, and took the date on the intro with a pinch of salt. These things were copied, often from necessity because of the social/political and most of all religious climate of the time.

Then there are good old-fashioned forgeries over 400 years that are actually quite valuable in their own right. But I concentrated on the handwritten annotations and and births, deaths and other bits of family history jotted, in often beautiful handwriting, to authenticate it.

Having decided it was probably an early edition, and decided it was ok to do some preservative work - one mustn't get restore (a preservative process) mixed up with renovate (attempt to bring back to standard, which can be destructive) I did what I felt I must. It is archaeology after all.

There was only one condition. No fibs. Well, that's the polite version. I presented it back to the owners with a bit bit of legalise that must be presented if it was to be authenticated by those wiser than I, or sold.

The shock? In May this year it was the 400th anniversary of The King James Bible.

I'd decided it was from mid-to-late 1600's. Turns out there were about 200 known surviving versions of the original 1611 version. You can add one to that I hope. I'm told my work has been described as "thoughtful and loving, that took nothing away"

It'll remain with the family, the ancestors of the original owners, along with a modern family bible that will continue containing the tradition of notes, annotations, births and other family history, continuing 400 years of history. How cool is that? :)

The hairs stood up on the back of my neck, and I broke out in a cold sweat. I mean, wow....

Oh, Tom...

Don't give me any more Damsons :)

Tom has lived around here for over 20 years. When he first moved in, he planted a little Damson tree. Over the years, he and his family just got fed up of eating them, let them drop, and guess who's garden is full of Damson trees?

Then he discovered I made jams, pickles and chutneys. Hurrr... by eck.

He'll do well out of it, tho' the sugar will cost me a fortune. Being constrained by barter principle, I can't charge him for jams. Having said that, I can ask a bit nearer Christmas for chutneys and Damsons in Brandy or Vodka....

Chutneys mature and are much, much, better with age. Between now and the 'C' word I have to work out how much to charge him without making a profit. Heck.

~~~~

The barter system is good tho'. Another neighbour has lots of blackberrys, yet another is having early windfalls of apples they don't know what to do with. Some are picking their 'cookers' - Granny Pippins - too early.

Stuck in the supermarket generation, they don't know what to do about them. Tired now. Perhaps expand later.

Grumbles aside, what a wonderful problem.

Marmalade?

This'll tickle you :)

From, ahem, "The Queen-like Closet or Rich Cabinet / Stored with all manner of rare receipts for preserving, candying and cookery. Very pleasant and beneficial to all ingenious persons of the female sex"

Author Hannah Wolly, Around 1650.

What a wonderful book title!

I'm a big fan of very early recipes. I'm getting a bit overrun with Damsons, so I was digging around my collection for ideas, and came across this :-

127. Marmalade of Damsons.

Take two Pounds of Damsons, and one Pound of Pippins pared and cut in pieces, bake them in an Oven with a little sliced Ginger, when they are tender, poure them into a Cullender, and let the Syrup drop from them, then strain them, and take as much sugar as the Pulp doth weigh, boil it to a Candy height with a little water, then put in your Pulp, and boil it till it will come from the bottom of the Skillet, and so put it up.

With recipes like this, you have to get into the head of the writer and the period they live in.

Pounds are no problem. I refuse to use anything else :) But that 'Oven' could be a problem. What temperature? Without launching in to history lesson, it's pretty straight forward. A 'Goode Oven' is very hot. An 'Oven' is any oven that has been been on for a little while. But cooler than 'Goode'.

In this recipe, the clue is "when they are tender" to get that, slowly, and for how long? "let the Syrup drop from them" so they don't dry and crisp.

'Candy hight' got me for awhile, until I found in 'Book of Simples' by Edited Henry Lewer in 1910.

"Boyle your fugar till it will draw like a thread between your finger and thumbe"

The setting point of jam is around 134 degrees C. Those cooks must have had asbestos fingers.

A modern way, though there's nothing wrong with using a cooking thermometer, is to put a saucer in the fridge. When your jam froths up, and then the froth sinks again, give it a couple of minutes. It should settle to a slow, heavy boil with a slick surface - almost oil like.

Take the saucer from the fridge, and put a spoonful of jam on the saucer, and wait a few seconds. Pull the spoon gently across the puddle of jam. If it wrinkles and springs back, it's a perfectly good, but thin jam. If it wrinkles and stays, it's a thicker jam, but the difference between the two can be seconds of heating.

Oh, and it says Marmalade doesn't it. Marmalade means oranges? Guess not :)

~~~~

For those who have a bit of experience in modern jam making, you may have noticed I haven't mentioned pectin. Pectin is essential in jam making to enable it to set, and nowadays you can add it separately. But they didn't know that hundreds of years ago. But they did know that some stuff did, others didn't, and if they added a bit of stuff that did, it set stuff that didn't.

But everything made good wine....

edit 25/08/2011

As a basic rule, rather than buy commercial pectin, which just adds to the cost, either add sour apples or lemon, or put lemon peel, apple cores and skin in a muslin bag, tie it up and hang it in the pan. The disadvantage is that they may add flavours you don't want, while commercial pectin won't.

Muslin can be hard to get hold of nowadays, since the dearth of local butchers. I bought a pair of tights - hand washed them in diluted lemon juice and salt solution, (a posh Elizabethan method) gave them a good rinse.

Another tip. Add a good pinch of black pepper to a fruit jam, and a tiny pinch of Chilli powder is surprisingly nice. :)

Blimey. I didn't know they could do that.

BT I mean. My internet connection had been playing up. In the end, after checking everything my end and finding everything was hunky-dory, we bit the bullet and phoned Bt's support line.

That's something we avoid like the plague, because you'd normally get a run-around by someone at a foreign call centre following a script on their screen who one can barely understand because they've had their call centre training from watching episodes of Coronation Street and East Enders. And my Punjabi is rubbish.

Instead, we spoke to a terribly nice chap in Glasgow (Ok, so that's foreign) who dispensed with the script once The Bear explained I was "an ancient propeller head (?!) " who knew his stuff. Fair-ish comment.

I should explain my routers code is heavily modified by your truly so it does what I want it to do - and it's not BT. Hence my confidence. So while he was flattering my missus in the name of customer relations, I ran a serial console - non of your SSH nonsense - sat back, and waited.

And was totally gobstruck when my router said to me "Hello sir. If you'll excuse me..." It's never done that before.

What followed was a very thorough and rapid check of the basics of it's functions. Ploughed through my security as tho' it was never there. Even the bit where it plays a bleepy Captain Pugwash to anyone trying to hack it.

Our new Glaswegian friend announced to the Bear that everything was absolutely fine at our end, that it was a line fault, and he'd fixed it. I bet he did :) Guess who's going to be burning the midnight oil finding out how BT did that?

~~~~

Bloody well went hypo last night. All I know is I woke up at silly o'clock under a blanket, with Lucazade stains all over my shirt. Much drama, apparently. I don't remember. Neighbours, Bear, oldest daughter and a card I keep in my top pocket saying "Call an ambulance and I'll chuffing haunt you" getting me a real ear-bending this morning.

I'm a skinny (and getting skinnier) type 2 on tabs, not insulin. Don't ask me. I dunno. Out for the count apparently. That's the second time this year. Tch. Perhaps I should up my carbs?

Tips for preserving a new book.

Tips for preserving a new book. Home Edition.

Tho' I have to say I'm not into that.

A book should be used, abused, read and passed on to be read again. That's what books are for. And yeh, I know that's not much of an up front pay the bills profit for an author? But look at it as an early internet. Reputation, background publicity, spreading the word. It worked for the bible :)

But if you insist, Pear-wood box. Big 'un. Walnut, an oil based wood. If you can afford it, Sandalwood. As a rule, if the wood smells nice, go for it.

Avoid plastic bags like the plague. They maintain moisture. Moisture is bad.

Make sure it has a tight fitting lid, and it's kept in a cool, dark place, like a fine wine. The important thing is to keep temperatures constant/don't open it to check more than once a year. Open/Shut/Ok. Lift them (and if you have more than one) from the bottom of the chest using Balsa wood.You don't want the oily wood in direct contact with the books.

If you have any of those little silica gel bags that come with electrical equipment? Chuck them in.

If it's a leather bound book, ask me. Separate rules for those.

Catchya :)