Still Alive

Hello blog!
I'm a little shocked that people are still reading and commenting here, especially as I am a poor and inconstant blogger. So what have I been up to since last I wrote?

In July we moved to a new brewery! A bigger, better, shinier new brewery. Isn't it pretty? No more fiddling around with a paella burner, or using a pump from a coffee maker to transfer hot wort. The new brewery is also around twice the size of the old one, and instead of being in an industrial unit somewhere in Scunthorpe, it's actually in the Isle of Axholme, at a Holiday Park. So at the end of a hard days brewing, we get to sit in the Lakeside bar overlooking 7 Lakes, drinking our own beer, out of our own fancy glasses (we still have to pay for the beer).
We are also bottling beer, which can be bought from us at several Farmers Markets and Food Fairs, and also from shops!

(If you fancy actually drinking our beer, you can order it from http://www.yorkshireales.co.uk/breweries/axholme-brewing-co.html).
It turns out that Setting Up Your Own Damn Business takes time. All your time. You will crawl out of bed cursing, you will drink more than you should. You will fall asleep on the sofa to repeats of QI on Dave most evenings. Your love of spending hours making traditional Mexican food will be a distant dream, as on the days when you actually have the time to do it, you'll just want to sit on the sofa and drink your own bodyweight in tea. And, weirdly, it will be worth every damn minute.

Also having a ferret helps. This is Custard in his Fortress of Doom (aka several boxes stuck together and connected by plastic tubes). He's a rescue. We also have a goldfish that I obtained in a fight with a Carny.

But enough about me, how are you?

Dig, Lazarus, Dig

Perhaps it is because I am, as has been previously noted, Peculiar, but I enjoy digging.

No, really. I'm not making it up.

Ever since I was old enough to wield a spade without the threat of chopping off a toe* digging was something I loved to do. As a kid it was an excuse to get muddy without reprisals**, but as I got older, and had my own garden, it became a way of connecting with the soil I was working with. Getting my fingers in the dirt & learning the peculiarities of the land. This area is prone to frost pockets, careful what gets planted there, that area gets waterlogged & needs organic matter incorporating into it. Building a relationship with the soil, learning its needs & tending to them. Gardening has always been a spiritual pursuit for me (I heard a theory once that shepherding societies were prone to monotheism, of the belief of a solitary deity that wanders with them, whereas societies based on agriculture were more inclined towards polytheism, and a deity for everything), the contact with the earth grounding & centering, even in my vaguely Pagan crackpot view of the world.

Over the last few weeks when I haven't been involved in the making & selling of beer (which, rather surprisingly, involves a lot of digging), I've been digging. A lot of digging. new muscles have formed in my back & shoulders purely for the purpose of aching (the Random Twinge in the trapezius & the Dull Ache in the Latissimus dorsi are my personal favourites), what started out as a few blisters on the hands have become spectacular calluses. Having said that, if you're doing any digging proper posture & Not being An Idiot should keep any back pain to a minimum. To quote Alice Cooper - back straight, lift with your knees. If you're not accustomed to a spot of digging, take a break every ten minutes or so & do a few stretches, preferably while grumbling within earshot of loved ones.

Tiger balm is a pungent, dark red ointment made with camphor, clove & cinnamon oil in a petroleum jelly base available from Chinese supermarkets & some chemists. It is an excellent, soothing rub that relieves muscular aches & pains, and all the ills that come with overdoing it (there is a milder white version, if the red stuff is too pungent for you. A dab of it on the forehead or temples works wonder for hangovers & tension headaches). A hot bath with a few drops of lavender & tea tree essential oil will soothe aching muscles too.

There is still much more digging to be done, preferably (but not bleedin' likely) before winter sets in. I prefer to dig in the autumn, or early spring. Digging in the summer is a miserable experience. heat, small creatures that find me delicious, sweat & chafing. Ugh. But cold weather means heading out with your shovel & gloves in sixteen layers of clothing, knowing that pretty soon you'll be in your T-shirt and overusing the term 'Soft Southern Shandy' at passers by. Plus there's the occasional break for a cup of tea and quiet admiration (or loud, if there's other people to hear it)

Until next time, which will probably be about parsnips. Or beetroot. Or something.

*And other parental paranoia's experienced when seeing your barefooted, semi-feral youngest child arsing around in the mire

**Any other situation that got me that filthy; falling in the canal (which happened with distressing regularity), hiding in the coal store, attempting to dig a bomb shelter etc all got me called a little diddikai and sent to an early bath.