Wine

As I predicted, tradition has determined the less than regular updating of my blog. However I’m writing this now, which serves as a much-needed breath to prove that it is still alive.

   Since my last post I haven’t done much to brag about. I’ve have been keeping myself busy though; doing odd jobs, applying for actual jobs, making wine and hanging around with the fellow unemployed.  The making of wine has been one of my favourite vocations, as it required outdoor exploration.  Precarious paling, lacerating brambles and waterlogged loam were just a few of the obstacles that lay between me, and the wine I hoped to make. After cycling, hiking and climbing, to, through and over various areas of Horwich I eventually gathered enough elderberries and damsons to create a gallon of wine (how manly).  However, the primal gathering of the berries was just the first step on this demanding journey. Next I had to acquire a demijohn for the wine to ferment in. This involved browsing ebay and going on a drive to a primitive town known commonly as Chorley.  Here I bartered with a strange and solitary gentleman of around 50. In and around his small home was an abundance of diverse and unusual objects, leading me to believe that he belonged to the category of people many television channels seem to be infatuated with, often referred to as hoarders. I’m no slick haired, Italian psychoanalyst so mine is a poorly informed suggestion; he might have been a savvy and cunning entrepreneur.  What I do know is that he had an old ford fiesta, which was being used as a shed for some of his various items. The front passenger seat and footwell of said vehicle had been reserved for the demijohns I had journeyed there for.

   Next, I threw around 2kg of berries into a bowl with, several pints of water, some sugar and a bit of yeast. This was then left for 5 days to bubble away, spewing red pungent liquid onto the kitchen worktop at intermittent times. After 5 days I strained and filtered my viscous crimson creation into the demijohn. At this point there was definitely alcoholic fumes being emitted from, what I could now confidently refer to as wine. Now all I had to do was secure an airlock and find a suitable spot for the wine to ferment in for the next 6 months. As a precaution I placed it on top of a towel in a large plastic box. Satisfied with a job well done I then lounged around until my mother arrived home. Noticing that the wine was no longer desecrating the kitchen worktops she asked if I had bottled my wine and to see how it was looking. On climbing the stairs to the attic, where the wine now resided, we both noticed a suspiciously strong smell of alcohol. Despite this, any potential disasters didn’t cross my mind. Then, Disaster! The box was full of wine. And the once white towel was fully saturated. Looking at the glass I was confused, the airlock was still on the top and the glass appeared to be intact. I lifted up the bottle to take a closer look, leaving behind half of it in the box. For some reason the glass had cracked leaking out it’s precious contents. I was devastated.  I was resolved to dispose of the now contaminated wine and hang my head in sorrow for an arbitrary amount of time. Though after conversing with my cousin, who had been crafting his own wine and assisting with mine, I decided to say ‘fuck it’ to the Internet with its forums preaching sterilisation and instead salvaged what many would call ruined. This involved wringing out the towel until it had released what it had drank back into the box. Then carefully I poured all I could into one of my contingency demijohns I had cleverly acquired, ha ha. This time the glass held, and the airlock begun to bubble away as clear evidence of fermentation. However, I won’t really know if it’s a success until I taste it in 6 months time.  Hopefully it’s not awful.

Back in Britain Blogging

Well, well, well. Here I am, ever present within ‘the real world’. The world of obligations, anxiety and the hour-glass. Thrust into the world of tomorrow, before I even had a chance to think. The world, (dramatic pause) of the postgraduate. The world… Ok that’s enough use of the word ‘world’. As a graduate in English I should be able to come up with some suitable synonyms such as ‘land’, ‘planet’ or perhaps even ‘zone’. No, actually I don’t like zone I retract that one.
   Regardless of the label I am here, in the ever expecting, ever neglecting, ever erm deprecating? Jesus It’s been so long since I’ve written something I’ve practically forgotten how to do it. Not to worry, I’ll figure it out along the way.
     Back to the point in hand, I’ve now returned to my childhood home after an all too brief interlude living in Manchester as a student. In all honesty this is something I expected and accepted. After temporary employment in the early summer, I flew to another continent and spent most of my earnings and most of my summer there. Even without my cross continental excursion I still think I’d have ended up here trying to save up cash to move out, so my holiday (if nothing else) was a welcome delay to assimilation into the real world (sorry there’s the word world again).
   I suppose I’d better give a brief summary of my escapades and jolly journeying in the continent commonly known as North America. As my lovely lass is technically one of them it seemed only civil and proper that I travel over to see her in America. Up until this point she had done all the leg-work/plane work in keeping this relationship going by travelling to the UK, whilst I, often stayed in bed. On more than one occasion I failed to meet her at the airport due to the inseparable bond I had with my mattress.
    Being a Southern Gal my first stop was her home state of Tennessee, specifically the city Chattanooga. All in all it was a surprisingly awesome city. Nestled within a mountain range, it’s the perfect mix of cosmopolitan convenience and rural wilderness. As I quickly learned almost everywhere seems to be a considerable drive away in the states. Next to nothing is in walking distance. Having said that Chattanooga truly has the best of both worlds. Within the parameter of an hours drive you could be on top of a mountain gaping at the wide and all encompassing vistas; rolling hills, winding rivers, pilasters of woodland stretching far into the distance, or you could be downtown getting hammered in a pub called ‘the hair of the dog’ that strives to be authentically British. Whilst my brief and somewhat turgid description might not seem that inviting or awe inspiring there are few places in the U.S.A (in my experience) where you can go from forward thinking student town to uninhibited serene wilderness within the space of an hour. 

A question we all ask ourselves at some time or another.

    I spent a good few weeks staying in the pleasant climbs and furrows of Chattanooga, basking in the sun, gorging myself on smoked barbeque awesomeness and basically experiencing the ‘murican way. However there was adventuring to do as well as lounging and lunching so after some travelling around the state of TN we decided to head west.
   First we flew out to Las Vegas, an offensively hot and ridiculous place. Why anyone decided to build a city in the middle of a vast and unwelcoming desert is beyond me. Putting the seemingly senseless geographical location aside, the city itself was amazing. It’s what I’d describe as a Disney land for grown ups. All your favourite indulgencies that have to be moderated and enjoyed sensibly in the closely monitored world of the everyday are in excess and encouraged in the Vegas.

 Sitting at table trying to get rich from the losses of your fellow man your fed as much free liquor as your slurring tongue will let you order and are free to be wildly intoxicated on any illicit substance of your choice without consequence. Although I personally was not under the influence of any illicit substances I saw plenty of characters who were; wandering around in a state of semi consciousness, grasping at imaginary figures, retreating from waitresses and all without refute. Vegas, a truly magical place.

I didn't have words for this place or picture, but I would thoroughly
recommend  seeing the Grand Canyon to everyone.

      The next location we stayed a few days in was L.A, a dirty place. Although there were some places I enjoyed wandering through, I left this city thinking about how so many homeless people live at the bottom of a hill where some of the richest people in the world reside. Universal studios were pretty awesome but L.A was by no means a nice city. From there we went to San Francisco, which, in comparison to L.A, is beautiful. Again there were large parts of the city where crowds of homeless people lay dejected in the streets. Strangely a portion of the city really reminded me of Manchester. As well as the homeless population the Victorianesque architecture was startlingly similar and the greyness that day made me feel quite at home. After wandering around the city extensively we got to seem some pretty cool areas such as Haight, the golden gate bridge and a tower I forget the name of. All in all we managed to see a large portion of the city. However the poorly treated homeless was also a lasting impression here. There were many who seemed to have mental health issues and obviously needed help, but you often seem to find the wealthiest areas treat the poor population the worst. It seems a tragic symptom of the system.
   This was essentially the end of the holidaying, after San Francisco we flew out to see my cousin in Syracuse, Northern New York. It was refreshing to see a familiar face and have a conversation about family members and such. From here we took a train to NYC where we spent over twelve hours at JFK, and from there we flew back to Chattanooga. I’m not sure if its because it’s genuinely a terrible airport or I just wasn’t in the mood for being in it for twelve hours but fuck JFK airport, Kennedy would be ashamed they used his name for such a awful place. 
     Although I’ve missed out many deets, that was an outline of my five weeks stateside. Though that was about three weeks ago now, since then excitement has been intermittent and less dramatic. However there are a few things I have been getting up to and blogging is a hobby to keep me occupied so there might be a few posts this month, then as is tradition non for about a year.