Sloe Day

We broke our record today: 1.1kg of sloes in about 10 minutes.  Granted, we did have 3 pickers, but 2 of them were very slow (one through fear of thorns and the other through trying to psych himself up to eat one).  By my calculations, that's officially "a lot" of sloe gin for this winter.  The berries are now shivering in the freezer to mimic a Scottish frost.  For those wondering why I don't just pick them later, once there has been an actual frost, they all shrivel up if you leave them until then (Jan/Feb). 

Anyway, this bush is rather delightfully on the communal land just outside our garden, and is festooned this year.  I think I could comfortably pick another few kilos without troubling the birds' supply.  But as Mr B helpfully pointed out, we only have a tiny bit of gin left...  Sloe vodka anyone?

As you can tell, little to report on the day.  The gardener was round this morning, though he says he will have to give me a discount as we spent most of the time just chatting (including a story about a late night Oxford post mortem so gross I nearly threw up).  And this evening the mason came round to introduce the new carpenter, which was nice.  And he put on a good show of being terribly impressed with the wood we have chosen for the terrace, with the work I'm planning for our broken staircase, and our mad chaotic house.  He can come again.  (Like maybe tomorrow to finally lay some boards on the terrace that should have been finished a month ago...)

This evening, a very long chat with Mr B, who was astonished to learn that I had worked out he spent the day buying a new suit (this on the basis that he hadn't bothered me by email all day - what else could he be doing?)  And then a double-bill of Great British Bake off (we laughed, we cried "how do you fan your plums?" Classic.) and Pitch Perfect 2.

The kids both have terrible colds.  But they are manfully (TallGirl) and weepily (CarbBoy) ignoring them as much as I am ignoring the tickle in my throat.  Can't be ill.  Busy day tomorrow.