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.