Les Vendanges 2019.

Yesterday's date was chosen for our wine-making on account of the amount of Wasps and Hornets that were around. If we'd left it any longer they would have been everywhere.

I'm not sure how many buckets we filled, but it felt like hundreds.

In the absence of a grape mangle, or clean feet, I opted to crush the grapes by hand; a distinctly satisfying task.

And this, above, is our Cuve. A converted plastic dustbin with plastic tap. Everything went inside.

Will it work? Well the principle is the same as in times gone by, so we can but wait and see. If it does work, we should have some wine in about two weeks. What it will taste like is an altogether different matter.

I am reasonably confident. Watch this space!

Mob of pre-war Bentleys attack Goodwood

I thought you might like to see, and hear, a bunch of pre-war Bentleys going around Goodwood. A really unique experience. The sound is delightful.

Veggie guests.

This is a favourite; and well worth considering if you are inviting veggies for supper.

Its official French title is 'Péquillos farcis a la Brandade de Morue'. 

Small 'whole' bottled red Péquillos Peppers are stuffed with 'Brandade' (a purée of mashed potato, salt cod, olive oil, garlic, s & p), then baked in a 200 C oven for about 30 mins. 

3 or 4 each, with a little salad, makes a substantial, and delicious, meal.

This classic of the Spanish Tapas bars is the perfect standby for when veggies call; as long as, of course, you have access to the bottled Peppers and Brandade (which I buy ready made). 

Bon appétit.

Happy Birthday Ten'.

It was Tenpin's birthday yesterday. Here are a couple of pictures of her Bear, Mrs Pins.

This one includes a picture of the birthday girl herself.

Caller Who Used To Run Port Of Dover On What No-Deal Brexit Will Really ...

Poor Iain Dale; the uber doom-monger hardly knew what to say when presented with 'facts' from a sharp end caller. He looks genuinely upset, I love the way he eventually tries to pass the buck to the fragrant Emily Thornberry.

Iain, and other fair-weather-critics, sit back listening to No Deal 'worst case scenarios' (of which they have no first-hand knowledge), as the people who do the actual job simply carry on, and get things done.

"There might be a shortage of Cheddar at Carrefour, but there won't be a shortage of Brie at Tesco" Spread the word Iain!!.... and Pigs will fly.

The world's most beautiful home.

There are certain properties that I covet; and this is one. 

Possibly the most beautiful home I know (and have stayed in) is the above Sussex farmhouse called Humphrey's Homestead. I just wish I could have found a better picture for you. It's a stunning property.

HH is situated on a very quiet country lane, a few miles from Arundel in West Sussex, and is a classic large early stone and flint built farmhouse, with a wavy peg-tiled roof and ancient interior beams. A couple of similarly constructed outbuildings have been converted into houses for family members. It has become a fabulous 'family community'.

It was the home of Wilfrid Meynell and his wife the poet Alice Meynell. Of their eight children two were Viola and Francis Meynell; both writers/poets in their own rights (see Wiki).

The house is a treasure trove of objects and memories. Paintings by Bloomsbury members nonchalantly hang in unexpected places, a portrait drawing of Alice by J S Sargent hangs in the smoky atmosphere of the huge sitting room inglenook. Much of the old antique furniture has been painted-on by visiting artists. I believe that Lawrence wrote his 'England my England' whilst staying there. The ambiance is thick with cultured indifference. 

I presume that my friends, who are Meynell family members, still own this lovely house (I cannot imagine them ever selling it); I've hardly seen them since I was an usher at their Arundel Cathedral wedding back in the late 60's. To me the house is perfection in every way. Their Bonfire Night parties were unforgettable.

I've just found another picture; probably as equally bad as the first. 

Oh to own such a home!

In Limbo.

                                              

It's surprising how little there is to do in September. OK, I could pick more Apples, etc, or IF it had rained enough there would be mushrooms to be gathered.

The grass isn't growing, nor are the weeds; in fact there is very little that needs my attention. All I can remember from yesterday (other than taking Billy to the Vet's) was repairing the mechanism that lifts our pedal bin. Hardly a fulfilling day.

There are small children who require entertaining; Boo Boo and Lady M made chocolate brownies together yesterday. There is Billy to take for walks; but one can only walk so far each day. And there are general 'groundsman' duties that need to be seen-to; raking leaves, etc. Otherwise I pop up to Haddock's several times a day to see if anything has grown, and moan about the constant noise from neighbours' ongoing projects.

The pool temperature might rise over the next few days, so there'll be swimming to do; otherwise it's just a matter of thumb-twiddling, cooking, eating, and drinking. It's a hard life.