Trekking the polar ice caps

I'm off to Sweden! 

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The Raspberry Field

Beside the River Spey in Northeastern Scotland there are lots and lots of wild raspberry bushes, growing all along the bank of the river. I went for a walk along the river at Aberlour today and I wasn't really prepared for the berry harvest. I got about 30 berries in the pocket of my Barbour jacket, and managed not to squash them! 

Fruit really is the best straight off the plant. When I was young, in the industrial north east, between the textile mill and coal mine we had a few fruit trees in the garden, pears and apples and a couple of strawberry plants too. The fruit you buy in the supermarket is nothing like the stuff which comes off the plant, the raspberries today were so sweet and intense, you couldn't buy that flavour.

Foraging is excellent fun, there are fewer things more rewarding than heading to the great outdoors and finding delicious things to eat. Tomorrow I'm planning to head back out to the river, pick some raspberries and use them as a topping for a cheesecake using my home made soft cheese, delicious. 

(I made some more cheese using cows milk, it's draining ready to be used tomorrow)

Forays into the world of cheesemaking

In my ever expanding quest to become as self sufficient as possible I decided to give cheese-making a shot.  My first cheese was a soft goats milk and double cream cheese, made with vegetarian rennet, and it wasn't too shabby. It was soft, white and slightly salty, everything it should be, but it was lacking something, it needed to have a contrasting texture and some sharpness. 

The perfect thing to do, in my opinion, is to roll the cheese into a cylinder shape, then roll it in pinhead oatmeal. The pinhead oatmeal gives it a nice rough texture, and serve it on oatcakes with a little bit of fresh lemon squeezed over the top. 

The countryside is beautiful right now, but they are building a house next door, so that detracts from the glorious nature outside. The garden is partly Scots Pine forest so we have lots of excellent animals scurrying around in the trees.  Up in the north of Scotland we're quite lucky to still only have red squirrels, none of these nasty grey invaders from the New World.  In the garden we have quite a few, they sit on the bird feeder and race around the branches, quick as lightning, just a ginger blur against the trunk of the tree. They're cuter than grey squirrels with their fluffier tails and tufty ears, however the cats also love them, so we have a super soaker to warn the cats off if they get too close. 

We also have lots of rooks, but I think they have moved on for the summer, they're very pretty birds, but incredibly loud too, always shouting at each other, and wake you up at 4am.

There are also lots of deer about, red and roe deer. I swear I saw a White Stag a few weeks ago, a rare white red stag. They are supposed to herald a great change in the lives of those who see them, though I'm still waiting for it. 

Pheasants are my favourite though. They're so dim. Up here I think a lot of them are the lucky escapees of the intensive farming for shooting trade. They raise them like battery hens, which is shocking for battery hens, but even worse for game birds who can fly very fast and long distances. They raise them in shocking conditions then release them so people who generally can't shoot can then kill them, often not on the first attempt, meaning they need to be bludgeoned to death. Not nice at all.  http://www.independent.co.uk/environment/millions-of-pheasants-subjected-to-cruelty-698455.html

We have lovely pheasants round here, with no one to bother them. We did have a nest, but the foxes got it before they hatched. Sad, but the fox has to eat too! They also think that you can't see them if they can't see you. Therefore they hide their heads behind plant pots, shrubs, long grass etc leaving the rest (and most noticeable) parts of their bodies exposed. They strut along like kings, but they are very handsome. There are loads of them round here, and it's wonderful.

More on the Elderflowers

Edinburgh got a bit too much for me, a flatmates family friends came to visit, and whilst lovely and gracious they made me feel a little nervous. I like to maintain a little bit of chaos, I can't stand everything being perfectly tidy, and I like things to be a little out of order. Now then, I cleaned the flat from top to bottom, save the spare room, which I still haven't unpacked, but seeing as I've been there just over a week things are still getting moved about. I have loads of books, and left some of them in the kitchen on the bench, not getting in anyones way, and I like having  books in the kitchen, far better than having a telly in there. 

I don't know if it's an American thing, or if she was trying to be helpful, but the woman staying moved all my things around, moved things out of the spare room (including my gardening things!) and was re-cleaning everything I had already cleaned that morning.  I don't know why, but this made me feel exceptionally uncomfortable. Maybe it's just having someone I don't know going into rooms in my house they were not invited to go into and move things that they have no reason to touch. It also made me feel like she was critisising my efforts. People shouldn't make you feel uncomfortable in your own home, and she has no idea why I saved the fruit boxes she threw away (they were to plant seeds) or why certain things were in the spare room (such as a watering can, seed packets etc) before she moved them. I don't understand why people take the liberty to be so fucking nosy and do things they were not invited to do, and were certainly not welcome to do. I would never dream of going to their house and moving things from room to room, so why should they do that to me? 

I didn't say anything, I just decided to go to the countryside instead. Hopefully they will have left everything alone. 

An update on the elderflower brews, made some, needs yeast, though smells perfumed and amazing, will hopefully become booze soon.

Tyne, Dogger, German Bight...

Right now I feel somewhat despondent. The weather is fabulous outside, yet I'm stuck inside revising for an exam in August. I know it's far away, but I cannot for the life of me get my head around it, hence why I'm doing it in August, having failed the first time round. 

It's about Tax law, and I really really really fucking hate Tax law. I'm sorry, but it's just the most uninspiring pile of tods I've had the misfortune to encounter. It's for boring twats who like boring twatty things like Paulo Nutini and Emmerdale. I suppose it's important, but it's so boring, and I'm terrible at it. I can't do maths, and the whole thing is structured like mathematical problems, and it just goes into my brain, gets muddled up with various things and then pathetically flops out again like a jellyfish caught in a childs fishing net. I'd rather just not do it, but if I want to finish my degree I have to. Bollocks.

There was some thunder and lighting earlier, that was quite good, it was really gloomy and overcast, more like November than July, and then the heavens opened, and we were treated to a good display. I love that kind of weather, it's so emotive and well, atmospheric, I love thunder storms and would gladly sit through more of them. 

The Shipping Forecast is now in BBC iplayer. I personally adore the shipping forecast. I grew up spitting distance from the wild, open and cold North Sea, so it was natural curiosity which drove me towards it.

I could never sleep as a child, so started listening to BBC Radio 4 and The World Service from a very young age, mainly as my parents despaired as to what to do with me. The Shipping Forecast is on every night just before 01:00, preceded by Sailing By, and it's the last thing on before the Anthem and the switchover to TWS. Back then I had no idea what it was like at sea, and the names sounded wild and strange to me, and I wanted to go there. I've done a fair bit of sailing in my time, and raced to Norway with a group of other teenagers in a tiny little boat when I was 16 . So now I know what it looks like when the rain batters against the window and Charlotte Green is reading out those strange names and numbers. 

Some people find it comforting, I don't, the sea isn't comforting, it's big and cold and wet and dangerous. I find it more romantic, as I associate it with freedom and some of the best experiences of my life, and I want more than anything a little boat to take out  there.

Recently I've been being domestic, I just made rye bread, and it's yummy. I always find it helpful to add a handful of dried fruit, it really adds to the flavour.

The art of home brewing

This is something I am yet to master, the ancient art of brewing. No matter how I plan it, my hedgerow brews just fail to materialise. My neighbour has an elderflower bush in the back garden, and finally, after some covert activity I managed to sneak out under the cover of darkness (at these northern lattitudes, that's quite late) and pick some, only to discover they were too old and wouldn't survive the journey upstairs, nevermind being brewed. So, no elderflower champagne for me. My parents are having considerably more success and their brew should be fizzing along nicely by now. 

Next idea, nettle beer. Seemingly simple, but for the life of me, I can't find nettles! This may sound ridiculous, but it seems that even nettles are beyond me right now. I'm not squeamish, but I think that it's taking it too far, even for me, to scour the overgrown front gardens of central edinburgh for nettles.

A highland friend taught me about Gorse wine, now that grows all year round, hopefully we should have more success with that!