Backyard in July...

My backyard looks magical this morning. Ah, July, the start of the slow run up to fall. Yes I know we call it the autumn, but in so many ways it is the fall. My yard isn't going to get much better than this and soon the growth will tip it over the edge.

Oh well, I better make the most of it while I can.

Alcoholic ginger beer recipe...

The brewery in the corner of my kitchen seems to be taking over; in fact some might say it is becoming industrial strength. Bubbling away in various containers and bottles are assorted country wines – carrot, elderflower, honeysuckle – and more alcoholic fizzes than a pop factory.

It hasn’t taken long for me to get into my latest hobby. I’m improvising my equipment; brewing small amounts in two litre water bottles, making the first fermentation of wines in catering size mayonnaise buckets with lids, using five litre water bottles with air locks bought from Wilkinson’s for demijohns.

My latest experiment is alcoholic ginger beer brewed with cheap still water in the water bottle, so no equipment needed. The bottles are food grade plastic and sealed, so no need to sterilise them before brewing. Best of all it’s ready to drink in a week and at 4% proof isn’t a bad beer at all.

If you fancy making some, this is how to do it:

The brew:

- ½ tsp brewer's yeast or a good tsp of general bakers yeast

- 225g caster sugar

- 1½-2 tbsp finely grated fresh root ginger (no need to peel)

- Juice and zest of 1 lemon

- 1 or 2 good tbsp of honey

The brewing:

- Empty water from bottle into a clean (sterilised with boiled water) jug.

- Add the yeast to the bottle* (see warning below).

- With a funnel, pour in the sugar.

- Mix the grated ginger with the lemon juice, honey, and a little of the water. I use a screw top container and give it a good shake to mix.

- Pour the ginger mixture through the funnel into the bottle.

- Now fill the bottle about ¾ full with water, put the cap on and shake the bottle until all the sugar is dissolved.

- Top up the bottle with the still water, leaving a 2.5cm gap at the top, to allow for production of gas (of which there will be plenty).

- Cap the bottle tightly and then place it somewhere warm or in the sunshine.

- Leave it for a day a two but keep your eyes on it. Let out the gas carefully a couple of times a day.

- After five or six days your beer should be ready.

- Place the bottle in the fridge for several hours to stop the yeast working.

- Once the beer is thoroughly chilled, pass it through a fine sieve (if you can be bothered) or pour gently to avoid the sediment.

- Drink and enjoy!

Warning:

Use plastic bottles rather than glass to avoid explosions. A really active mixture can produce lots of gas if left for longer than 48 hours, so do remember to let it off regularly.

Happy brewing!

Urban goldfish...

There’s something about a parade isn’t there? Big or small, throw in a marching band, some singing girl scouts, a decorated float or two and you have the perfect recipe for smiles; particularly if the sun shines.

Altrincham Festival parade has been a bit hit and miss the past few years, but I always stand on the street and watch it and it has to be said that this year’s was better than average.

For me it was the bicycling goldfish; slightly surreal with a bit of Japanesey thrown in for good measure, I almost forgave the cyclist for being on bikes. I stood watching them weave along The Downs, swimming in the air, and almost managing to forget that they weren’t real.

Lost in the moment I was; I seem to do that a lot these days.

A small moment in time…

You can go through life thinking that you’ve seen just about everything and then something tiny occurs that makes you realise that there is so much more to see. New things happen all the time and they don’t have to be big things either.

I’d never heard of the hummingbird hawk moth until a couple of months ago when I saw an article in one of the online papers which reported that this year was a particularly good year for them. The report mentioned that many people were mistaking them for humming birds, which we don’t get in the UK, but of course the moth is much smaller, about two inches across. The newspaper photograph of the moth caught my attention for an instant and then I moved on never expecting to see one of these lovely hovering creatures.

Then yesterday evening, as I sat in my backyard drinking elderflower fizz, I noticed a hummingbird darting around my flowers. A hummingbird moth had appeared from nowhere and for a minute or two sucked nectar from the pink flower I don’t know the name of but which grows everywhere in Wales. I reached for my phone and fiddled with it trying to get the camera to work.

Too late, the moth had moved on.

Thinking that it might reappear for a second sip at my flowers, I fetched my camera and twenty minutes later my patience was rewarded. It only stayed for a minute or so, just time enough manage to get this.

Snap. A small moment in time. I’m really hoping it comes back again.

The smell of summer...

You may have noticed that I’ve been posting a lot about gardening recently. Well, at this time of year it seems to be what occupies my time, this mad seasonal enthusiasm before the end of summer brings it all tumbling down with a final spurt of excessive growth.

Yes, I’m a fair-weather gardener, the type of gardener who, once September at latest is done, hangs up his trowel and hibernates until the spring arrives. I’ve never understood this cycle. I enjoy growing things but obviously not enough to sustain me over the winter months. I really must try harder - which brings me to my sweet peas.

My sweet peas were planted way back in February in pots that overran the kitchen worksurface and got in the way when we were preparing our winter soups and stews; ‘a nuisance’ my wife called them and indeed they were.

Now, over four months later, those same nuisances fill my back yard with a pungent sweet fragrance each day, their colours as diverse and subtle as autumn sunsets. I find myself rising early just so that I can sit outside and breathe in their heady fumes. Their smell reminds me of something, although I’m not sure what, and it probably doesn’t matter. That aroma is enough in itself.

I should have grown more. I should have grown them in strips just two inches apart and three deep in the tray so that I could plant them out in blocks rather than individual seedlings. Ah, the wonder of hindsight.

No matter. There’s always next year.

Vegetables...

Okay, they might not be much, but they are my first.

My first cucumber, tomato, and green bean of the season, small and not quite perfectly formed, the first of many I hope.

Unfortunately, not all of my vegetables are going as planned. The beetroot has some strange disease, the carrots are iffy, the pak choi has bolted before we could eat it all, and so far the courgettes, that were a triumph last year, are a disaster.

Not quite what I planned if I'm honest.

Hopefully things will get better and I will actually get some pumpkins on the huge plants I've managed to grow. Maybe I'll even get a few turnips and parsnips.

To be honest I'm thinking that a trip to Aldi would be easier than the dozens of hours I've spent tending my vegetables. Oh well, at least the peas are growing well.

Telling what it is...

So Rolf, as I feared, is guilty as charged on all counts. Unfortunately, there’s no shadow of doubt and I’m sure that there will be plenty more skeletons to tumble out of this particular closet. I think that generally the nation is shocked that this loveable icon turns out not to be so loveable after all. For my part I can hardly bear to write ‘Rolf’ without putting ‘Harris’ after his forename; as if this small formality will undo the ache of lost faith in a childhood role model.

Rolf Harris seemed, in many ways, so normal; so unlike that other child molesting monster Jimmy Savile. Harris wasn’t a strange, aggressive loner, he was a family man. Away from the celebrity spotlight, he’s been married to Alwen, who he met at art school, since 1958 and both she and his daughter Bindi seem to have been at his side throughout the case. I wonder what they are thinking and feeling now? What will their next moves be? Whatever they decide, he’s ruined their lives as well as his own and who knows how many others? New accusations pour in from the UK, Australia, and New Zealand almost hourly.

Of course, we all have many sides to our natures, multiple personalities, some of which we carefully hide. But most of us don’t get the opportunity to build the person that we’d like to be, rather than the one that we are, in front of an audience of millions. Most of us can’t fool all of the people all of the time and we are pretty well known to those around us, or at least as well known as we allow ourselves to be. Even this is changing though, in this social media driven world it’s easy for each of us to invent ourselves in our own chosen image.

Many of us are fooling ourselves, and everyone else, most of the time. Super celebrities like Harris, with publicists and stylists to help them along; seem to manage it all of the time… almost.

Perhaps that is part of the problem.

They say that you should never believe your own publicity; I think that Harris did. I think that he genuinely believed he was one of the good guys and forgave himself for all the wrong things he’s done. His performance in court, and the insolent honesty with which he answered some of the questions, was that of a man secure in the belief that ultimately his good image would triumph over his awful reality in the eyes of the jury.

Fortunately not even a rendition of Jake the Peg was enough to pull the wool over the juror’s eyes and ultimately they did see past the performance to the thing that lurked beneath.

Can I tell what it is yet?

Yes I can, and it’s not a pretty picture.