Monday, May 22, 2006
I woke up this morning with a distinctly sort throat. The thing is, I seemed to spend most of the weekend shouting. I was part of the team running Fort Rocky, YFC's weekend residential for 11-14 year olds. It was a whole load of fun, not just for the kids but for the team too. Who cares if it rained non-stop for the whole weekend? There was climbing, a zip wire, loads of food and random games involving mexican secret agents, jam donuts and an inflatable fish. Where else could I get to dress up as a sumo wrestler and get 200 kids to execute a karate chop, while screaming 'ATTAAAAAA!!!!' (Possibly the most politically incorrect thing I've ever done, and almost certainly the reason for me feeling a little hoarse today.) We also saw a bunch of kids become Christians. Blinding weekend.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
I'm actually beginning to enjoy food shopping. I never thought I'd hear myself say that, but it's true. You see, a couple of months ago, Jo and I joined a 'food cooperative' with some of our neighbours. We order a lot of staple foods from an organic supplier, buy in bulk, and get the stuff for wholesale prices. And the beauty of it is, shopping basically consists of sitting in our neighbour's kitchen for 2 hours on a Monday evening, guzzling wine, and picking what we want from a catalogue. Now tell me that doesn't sound better than trudging round Tesco's. You can even get a case of Samuel Smith's Best Organic Ale for less than £20. And very tasty it is, too.
The downside is the buying-in-bulk bit. Usually, it's possible to split an order of, for example, a 20kg bag of chick peas, with another member of the cooperative, but that doesn't always work. Last night, Jo and I ended up ordering 12 tins of chopped tomatoes. Hmmm. Firstly, what are we going to do with them all? (Can I look forward to chopped tomatoes on my organic muesli?) Secondly, where are we going to store the bloody things? For anyone who's read Catch 22, I'm beginning to feel like Milo Minderbinder with his warehouse full of Egyptian cotton.
You also find some slightly off-the-wall items in the catalogue. Tom last night ordered in a job lot of 'Sea Vegetable Rice Cakes'. What on earth is a sea vegetable? Seaweed? Or the salad from an ill-advised late-night kebab, which was chucked into the sea off Brighton pier? And what on earth does one do with a sea vegetable rice cake? 'Do you just eat them on their own?' Helen asked. 'I've got no idea!' Tom replied. An adventurous man. I hope he's got an understanding wife.
The conversation turned to jam. Gina mentioned a friend who makes 'Hedgerow Jam'. Apparently this means scouring the hedges of SE26, making jam from what she finds, and selling it on. But the range of items on display in the hedges of SE26 is quite mind-boggling. Plastic bags, empty Special Brew cans... They'd give the jam an interesting texture. On any given Friday night, it's highly probable to find a courting couple if you look in enough hedges. Not sure I'd want them pureed and spread on my toast. Does seem a harsh punishment even for pre-marital sex.
Really though, I love all this. It's adventurous. It's flicking a big, fat V-sign at evil, nasty multinationals. And it's gloriously English. Where else on earth could you possibly find an arrangement like this?
The downside is the buying-in-bulk bit. Usually, it's possible to split an order of, for example, a 20kg bag of chick peas, with another member of the cooperative, but that doesn't always work. Last night, Jo and I ended up ordering 12 tins of chopped tomatoes. Hmmm. Firstly, what are we going to do with them all? (Can I look forward to chopped tomatoes on my organic muesli?) Secondly, where are we going to store the bloody things? For anyone who's read Catch 22, I'm beginning to feel like Milo Minderbinder with his warehouse full of Egyptian cotton.
You also find some slightly off-the-wall items in the catalogue. Tom last night ordered in a job lot of 'Sea Vegetable Rice Cakes'. What on earth is a sea vegetable? Seaweed? Or the salad from an ill-advised late-night kebab, which was chucked into the sea off Brighton pier? And what on earth does one do with a sea vegetable rice cake? 'Do you just eat them on their own?' Helen asked. 'I've got no idea!' Tom replied. An adventurous man. I hope he's got an understanding wife.
The conversation turned to jam. Gina mentioned a friend who makes 'Hedgerow Jam'. Apparently this means scouring the hedges of SE26, making jam from what she finds, and selling it on. But the range of items on display in the hedges of SE26 is quite mind-boggling. Plastic bags, empty Special Brew cans... They'd give the jam an interesting texture. On any given Friday night, it's highly probable to find a courting couple if you look in enough hedges. Not sure I'd want them pureed and spread on my toast. Does seem a harsh punishment even for pre-marital sex.
Really though, I love all this. It's adventurous. It's flicking a big, fat V-sign at evil, nasty multinationals. And it's gloriously English. Where else on earth could you possibly find an arrangement like this?
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