I hear that big brother is coming back.
Some days the thought of leaving the woods leaves me cold.
Does anyone know a decent web designer? It is almost time to get rolling with stage one of the World's First Jungle Based Solar Powered Online Travel Guide. We might need a snappier name than that though.
Thursday, 18 May 2006
Helen! Absolutely, fantastic.
Before I start I must just explain that I am not a chemist, I only did one year of chemistry at school and I spent most of that blowing up test tubes, getting throw out and trying to set Nigel on fire. I apologise then if I don’t quite accurately represent thing if this does happen it is due entirely to ignorance. However, if any one requires a test tube smashed, I’m your man. Having conducted extensive experiments I can say with some certainty that Nigels are not flammable, some of them punch very hard. I shall not be setting anyone on fire.
The end is near, it is almost time to fact the final curtain and so I suppose it is only natural for me to turn my attention to what I have learnt and what, if anything, I think I have proved by this adventure. The world, as we know, is in a bit of a state and needs to be sorted out, I have gone into the woods and tried to raise some money to help out a bit. Living in the woods has very much brought home to me that the way we live as a society is very wasteful and destructive – hold the front page – and that something needs to be done to change the way we live before it’s too late. Crikey, nothing like a bit of doom and gloom to start a Thursday morning. I have lived in a largely sustainable way and have thoroughly enjoyed myself, I have carried on working, had a decent social life, been to parties, fallen in and out of relationships with startling rapidity and generally carried on as per usual. In principle at least I believe it is possible to lead life in harmony with nature and still have a cracking good time. If it is possible for one person to do so is it then possible for society as a whole to do so? Not in the way that I have done it, that just really would not work, apart from anything else there is not enough space in the woods. I believe that there is a way forward for society as a whole to live harmoniously with nature but to find how is the major struggle that faces us today, I do believe that the will power is there. What is required is action, everyone needs to start thinking and adjusting how they live in order to minimise the harm that they cause, everything else can be built on top of this framework.
It seems thought that there is an attitude that there is no point for us, as individuals, to do anything. The argument that people give is “what’s the point, what good can I do if everyone else is doing nothing”. Well this argument is self perpetuating and daft. What can one person do? What impact can one person have on the world? Well a little metaphor might be the way to explain my point, and here comes the science. A flood is made of individual raindrops, raindrops are made up of two hydrogen molecules and one oxygen molecule, each molecule is made of atoms and each atom is made of something, jam I think.
Be the jam, make the change.
The end is near, it is almost time to fact the final curtain and so I suppose it is only natural for me to turn my attention to what I have learnt and what, if anything, I think I have proved by this adventure. The world, as we know, is in a bit of a state and needs to be sorted out, I have gone into the woods and tried to raise some money to help out a bit. Living in the woods has very much brought home to me that the way we live as a society is very wasteful and destructive – hold the front page – and that something needs to be done to change the way we live before it’s too late. Crikey, nothing like a bit of doom and gloom to start a Thursday morning. I have lived in a largely sustainable way and have thoroughly enjoyed myself, I have carried on working, had a decent social life, been to parties, fallen in and out of relationships with startling rapidity and generally carried on as per usual. In principle at least I believe it is possible to lead life in harmony with nature and still have a cracking good time. If it is possible for one person to do so is it then possible for society as a whole to do so? Not in the way that I have done it, that just really would not work, apart from anything else there is not enough space in the woods. I believe that there is a way forward for society as a whole to live harmoniously with nature but to find how is the major struggle that faces us today, I do believe that the will power is there. What is required is action, everyone needs to start thinking and adjusting how they live in order to minimise the harm that they cause, everything else can be built on top of this framework.
It seems thought that there is an attitude that there is no point for us, as individuals, to do anything. The argument that people give is “what’s the point, what good can I do if everyone else is doing nothing”. Well this argument is self perpetuating and daft. What can one person do? What impact can one person have on the world? Well a little metaphor might be the way to explain my point, and here comes the science. A flood is made of individual raindrops, raindrops are made up of two hydrogen molecules and one oxygen molecule, each molecule is made of atoms and each atom is made of something, jam I think.
Be the jam, make the change.
Wednesday, 17 May 2006
sleep
One of the things I have got used to as a result of being in the woods is being woken regularly during the night, some of the more memorable reasons to wake have been; the rain, snapping branches, discomfort, hail, snow, damp, exploding petrol storage depots, free range dogs, snapping branches, startled deer, gnawing mice, screeching owls and even police helicopters. On Saturday I was woken by a new and unusual noise, I’m not exactly sure how to best spell it but it was something like “bluryurchk” and it originated from my room mate Mike. I’m quite used to Mike waking me up with snoring and the like and have even offered him excessive violence if he did not curb his snoring. I was not impressed and muttered murderously to myself; Mike must have heard me and explained that he had woken up with a slug on his face. Suddenly I didn’t feel quite so homicidal and began to find the situation rather amusing, I laughed quietly to myself, went back to sleep and woke later feeling more rested than I had for days.
I don’t like Karma, at least not when, half asleep, I lean my head forward to adjust the pile of clothes I call a pillow and find myself lip to slime with a slug that had worked it’s way onto the top of my sleeping bag.
I don’t like Karma, at least not when, half asleep, I lean my head forward to adjust the pile of clothes I call a pillow and find myself lip to slime with a slug that had worked it’s way onto the top of my sleeping bag.
Monday, 15 May 2006
Organised
I am getting better at sharpening my knife, it is getting quite sharp now and it is very pleasing to realise that this is down to my doing. In the past I have attempted many times to sharpen knives, it was one of the things I was expected to be able to do when I was a chef but I could never master it and thought I never would. It comes then as something of a surprise to find myself actually managing it.
I must buy some more plasters on the way home tonight.
Ginger and Honey Duck with Rhubarb
For two duck breasts
For the Marinade
About an espresso cup’s worth of balsamic vinegar
Two table spoons of thick set honey
A few sprigs of fresh rosemary
5g ginger grated or chopped very thinly
For the Rhubarb
100g of rhubarb peeled and chopped
10g ginger, grated or chopped very thinly
1tsp honey
1tbsp water
Score the skin on the breasts by running a sharp knife across it, try to make a nice criss cross pattern.
Put the vinegar, honey and ginger in a pan and slowly heat, scrunch the rosemary in your hand to bruise it and add this to the pan. Keep on a low heat and allow it to gently steam for a minute or two. Try not to let it simmer or boil but don’t worry, the world won’t come to an end if you do. Once the flavours have had a chance to merge pour over the duck breast and allow to marinate for 24 hours. If you keep the breasts meat side down the meat will be lying in the marinade rather than the skin.
Put the rhubarb, ginger, honey and water in a pan and cook until the rhubarb is soft, allow to cool.
Fry the duck breast to taste spooning over the marinade as you go; the balsamic will caramelise / burn and produce a lot of smoke so it is best to do this outside in a non stick pan, if you are doing it inside turn the smoke alarm off and open the windows. Allow the meat to rest for five minutes and serve with the rhubarb, spinach lightly sauted in butter, olive oil and nutmeg and new potatoes.
To accompany might I suggest builder’s tea with little bits of twig floating in the top.
Duck is not the easiest thing to eat with a spoon and a sheath knife.
I must buy some more plasters on the way home tonight.
Ginger and Honey Duck with Rhubarb
For two duck breasts
For the Marinade
About an espresso cup’s worth of balsamic vinegar
Two table spoons of thick set honey
A few sprigs of fresh rosemary
5g ginger grated or chopped very thinly
For the Rhubarb
100g of rhubarb peeled and chopped
10g ginger, grated or chopped very thinly
1tsp honey
1tbsp water
Score the skin on the breasts by running a sharp knife across it, try to make a nice criss cross pattern.
Put the vinegar, honey and ginger in a pan and slowly heat, scrunch the rosemary in your hand to bruise it and add this to the pan. Keep on a low heat and allow it to gently steam for a minute or two. Try not to let it simmer or boil but don’t worry, the world won’t come to an end if you do. Once the flavours have had a chance to merge pour over the duck breast and allow to marinate for 24 hours. If you keep the breasts meat side down the meat will be lying in the marinade rather than the skin.
Put the rhubarb, ginger, honey and water in a pan and cook until the rhubarb is soft, allow to cool.
Fry the duck breast to taste spooning over the marinade as you go; the balsamic will caramelise / burn and produce a lot of smoke so it is best to do this outside in a non stick pan, if you are doing it inside turn the smoke alarm off and open the windows. Allow the meat to rest for five minutes and serve with the rhubarb, spinach lightly sauted in butter, olive oil and nutmeg and new potatoes.
To accompany might I suggest builder’s tea with little bits of twig floating in the top.
Duck is not the easiest thing to eat with a spoon and a sheath knife.
Saturday, 13 May 2006
How To
PUNTING
Punting n. The art of drunkenly propelling one's self along a river with a stick whilst standing on a plank.
There is more to punting than meets the eye, the image of the Oxford Student lazily floating down the river sipping a glass of something is an enduring image but one that belies the strict etiquette that rules the practice.
It is reasonably common knowledge that the consumption of alcohol is compulsary on any expedition, it is less well known that it is mandatory to drink to excess. Once upon a time the only booze alowed on a cruise would have been Pimms, Champagne or at a pinch a dry white but only on the proviso that it accompanied a picnic. Nowadays attitudes have relaxed and it is not unusual to witness the chugging of lager and other such dubious imports from the continent.
It matters not how one boards the vessel and it is even perfectly acceptable for one of the part to take the mandatory 'dipping' at this point in the proceedings. What is important is the end of the plank at which the driver stands. One end of the punt is clearly designed for it to be propelled from, the other clearly is not. Tabs (those poor unfortunate types who went to Cambridge) push themselves about from the wrong end, it does not take a choreographer from the Kirov to spot that punting from the wrong end is an ugly and unweildly affair that does nothing more than bring into question the mental state of the perpetrator.
Having boarded, checked that there is a sufficient quantity of booze to cause the craft to lie dangerously close to the water line it is time to be off. There are three acceptable forms of movement along the river.
1) To spend the entirety of the aloted time on the river spinning in circles and crashing in to the bank / other craft / bridges / low hanging trees and getting a regular 'dipping'.
2) Cruising sedately along listening to a wind up grammerphone, the gentleman wearing a stripey jacket and the lady a white dress and sun hat. These people tend to hire a chauffer, take a picnic and avoid the 'dipping' , treat with intense suspicon.
3) Shooting along at something close to the speed of sound, clambering over low bridges as the punt, unmanned, floats through underneath. If waterpistols are involved anyone from catagory 2 (above) should be targetted. Punts in group 1 should be rammed at high speed, preferably bringing about the 'dipping' of at least one of it's occupants. It is not uncommon for every member on a group 3 outing to get a dipping. I remember on one occasion finding myself on one bank with the three girls from the punt, all of us soaked through. Andy was on the opposite side of the bank similarly drenched and clutching the punt pole. The punt meanwhile was merrily floating away in the middle of the river. Recognising a good thing I left Andy to retrieve the punt and return it to the boat house and escorted the ladies to the Kings Arms for a restorative.
It is perfectly acceptable to board other punts and liberate memebers of the opposite sex and picnics but only if dresses as a pirate or viking.
There are of course hazzards to watch out for along the way. I have been dismounted by over hanging branches, tree trunks, low bridges and collisions. It is traditional for the local urchins to throw themselves from the Rainbow Bridge in the aim of splashing passing punts, they have yet to realise that in the wetness stakes they come off by far the worst in this interaction. By far the worst incident I witnessed was the loss of a corkscrew to the murky depths; if that's not an argument for Corks that fly off with a jolly 'pop' I don't know what is.
Punting n. The art of drunkenly propelling one's self along a river with a stick whilst standing on a plank.
There is more to punting than meets the eye, the image of the Oxford Student lazily floating down the river sipping a glass of something is an enduring image but one that belies the strict etiquette that rules the practice.
It is reasonably common knowledge that the consumption of alcohol is compulsary on any expedition, it is less well known that it is mandatory to drink to excess. Once upon a time the only booze alowed on a cruise would have been Pimms, Champagne or at a pinch a dry white but only on the proviso that it accompanied a picnic. Nowadays attitudes have relaxed and it is not unusual to witness the chugging of lager and other such dubious imports from the continent.
It matters not how one boards the vessel and it is even perfectly acceptable for one of the part to take the mandatory 'dipping' at this point in the proceedings. What is important is the end of the plank at which the driver stands. One end of the punt is clearly designed for it to be propelled from, the other clearly is not. Tabs (those poor unfortunate types who went to Cambridge) push themselves about from the wrong end, it does not take a choreographer from the Kirov to spot that punting from the wrong end is an ugly and unweildly affair that does nothing more than bring into question the mental state of the perpetrator.
Having boarded, checked that there is a sufficient quantity of booze to cause the craft to lie dangerously close to the water line it is time to be off. There are three acceptable forms of movement along the river.
1) To spend the entirety of the aloted time on the river spinning in circles and crashing in to the bank / other craft / bridges / low hanging trees and getting a regular 'dipping'.
2) Cruising sedately along listening to a wind up grammerphone, the gentleman wearing a stripey jacket and the lady a white dress and sun hat. These people tend to hire a chauffer, take a picnic and avoid the 'dipping' , treat with intense suspicon.
3) Shooting along at something close to the speed of sound, clambering over low bridges as the punt, unmanned, floats through underneath. If waterpistols are involved anyone from catagory 2 (above) should be targetted. Punts in group 1 should be rammed at high speed, preferably bringing about the 'dipping' of at least one of it's occupants. It is not uncommon for every member on a group 3 outing to get a dipping. I remember on one occasion finding myself on one bank with the three girls from the punt, all of us soaked through. Andy was on the opposite side of the bank similarly drenched and clutching the punt pole. The punt meanwhile was merrily floating away in the middle of the river. Recognising a good thing I left Andy to retrieve the punt and return it to the boat house and escorted the ladies to the Kings Arms for a restorative.
It is perfectly acceptable to board other punts and liberate memebers of the opposite sex and picnics but only if dresses as a pirate or viking.
There are of course hazzards to watch out for along the way. I have been dismounted by over hanging branches, tree trunks, low bridges and collisions. It is traditional for the local urchins to throw themselves from the Rainbow Bridge in the aim of splashing passing punts, they have yet to realise that in the wetness stakes they come off by far the worst in this interaction. By far the worst incident I witnessed was the loss of a corkscrew to the murky depths; if that's not an argument for Corks that fly off with a jolly 'pop' I don't know what is.
There's this store where the creatures meet
For the last few weeks my posts have been a little uninspired, not really up to much. There is a very simple reason for this; for months life was quite a struggle, it was cold and dark, all my energy was used up with keeping warm; I worked, ate and slept, that was my life. Now it is bright, light and occasionally sunny (admittedly not at the weekends though), I don’t need to eat constantly to give me the energy to keep warm so not only do I feel lively I actually have some free money as I haven’t spent it all on eating. I feel truly amazing, on top of the world even. Not only do I have a sense of achievement for having survived the winter I suspect I am experiencing a feeling somewhat akin to coming out of hibernation. Spring has sprung and I’m feeling springy. All around me in the woods and fields the animals are all jumping about, showing off, singing songs and generally cavorting in a manner best judged to attract the opposite sex. Obviously humans, being of enlightened through our superior conceptual development, are not susceptible to such base whimsy. I have turned my mind in this time of renewed life to the finer things that a civilised society have to offer, fine wines and musical recitals etc. Why on an average night of late I will have been going to the pub or out clubbing a good three or four times. After all it is frightfully important to expand ones cultural horizons. Sadly though I find an evening amerced in appreciating of the lilting tones of both Hip and Hop, or in philosophical debate on such issues as whether table football is a real sport I find myself too intellectually drained to write coherently.
Now I feel that I have suitably enriched my life and am quite happy to be turning my mind once more to blithering on about the niceties of sunshine and the like and spending more time in the woods surrounded by trees, critters and the like.
Tomorrow I think I shall have roast pork with rhubarb and a rocket and cucumber salad whilst sitting under the shade of a beech tree and listening to the birds singing. This will make a nice change from eating out of a plastic box at the discomfort of my desk whilst answering phone calls from Singapore.
Now I feel that I have suitably enriched my life and am quite happy to be turning my mind once more to blithering on about the niceties of sunshine and the like and spending more time in the woods surrounded by trees, critters and the like.
Tomorrow I think I shall have roast pork with rhubarb and a rocket and cucumber salad whilst sitting under the shade of a beech tree and listening to the birds singing. This will make a nice change from eating out of a plastic box at the discomfort of my desk whilst answering phone calls from Singapore.
Friday, 12 May 2006
yesterday
There is lots of heat coming from the sky today, people are smiling and girls are looking pretty. It must be summer or something like that, and here is me stuck at my desk, the closest I get to being outside is drinking an innocent smoothie.
I'm only eating seasonal produce this year, well when I cook for myself. If I have to rely on eating sandwiches or whatever in London I have whatever there is. Today I found a lettuce in the supermarket for the first time this year, something green and fresh at last. An English lettuce, none of this cos or lolla rosso nonsence. It's been a long time since I had a round lettuce, I was lured by the promise of new and exciting leaves some time ago and never went back, somehow the plain old round lettuce seemed dull. Now though having forgone fresh produce all winter the site of an English lettuce on the shelved filled me with delight. I rushed back to the office, hacked two big lumps from a fresh granary loaf, spread on butter and English mustard, put in a slice of ham and as much lettuce as would possibly fit.
So good, the taste of childhood, lettuce and marmite sandwiches, a glass of milk the size of your head, goalposts for jumpers, isn't it?
On the bus on the way home after stopping for a couple of drinks in Mayfair I had an impromptu picnic of lettuce and bread. After so long without fresh food to eat tearing off lettuce leaves and wrapping them around bite sized lumps of bread was a luxury, slowly working my way in from the dark outer leaves to the light green / white heart.
It was 11 by the time I got back so it was dark, it was quite nice getting home in the dark and it reminded me of winter. The moon was full in the sky and the air was still warm, it reminded me of when I started off a year ago. I would just walk off into the woods, throw down a sleeping bag onto the ground and sleep there, the very essence of freedom. Quite why I decided to replicate this without the sleeping bag I do not know, it was possibly because I had neglected to pack the sleeping bag. It was warm enough at first but after a while it became bitterly cold, in the end I even unpacked the space blanket that I had kept for emergencies all winter. I wouldn’t say it kept me comfortably warm but being wrapped up that and a bit of tarp was enough to keep me from being uncomfortably cold. I did find myself having to do a few press ups in the morning to warm up. Stepping out from the woods at 6 I was amazed and pleased to feel the heat of the sun.
The hedge by the bus stop is now so densely leaved that it is impossible to see if the bus is on it’s way until it is almost upon up. No more standing in a line peering like mere cats eager in the expectation of the busses arrival then.
I'm only eating seasonal produce this year, well when I cook for myself. If I have to rely on eating sandwiches or whatever in London I have whatever there is. Today I found a lettuce in the supermarket for the first time this year, something green and fresh at last. An English lettuce, none of this cos or lolla rosso nonsence. It's been a long time since I had a round lettuce, I was lured by the promise of new and exciting leaves some time ago and never went back, somehow the plain old round lettuce seemed dull. Now though having forgone fresh produce all winter the site of an English lettuce on the shelved filled me with delight. I rushed back to the office, hacked two big lumps from a fresh granary loaf, spread on butter and English mustard, put in a slice of ham and as much lettuce as would possibly fit.
So good, the taste of childhood, lettuce and marmite sandwiches, a glass of milk the size of your head, goalposts for jumpers, isn't it?
On the bus on the way home after stopping for a couple of drinks in Mayfair I had an impromptu picnic of lettuce and bread. After so long without fresh food to eat tearing off lettuce leaves and wrapping them around bite sized lumps of bread was a luxury, slowly working my way in from the dark outer leaves to the light green / white heart.
It was 11 by the time I got back so it was dark, it was quite nice getting home in the dark and it reminded me of winter. The moon was full in the sky and the air was still warm, it reminded me of when I started off a year ago. I would just walk off into the woods, throw down a sleeping bag onto the ground and sleep there, the very essence of freedom. Quite why I decided to replicate this without the sleeping bag I do not know, it was possibly because I had neglected to pack the sleeping bag. It was warm enough at first but after a while it became bitterly cold, in the end I even unpacked the space blanket that I had kept for emergencies all winter. I wouldn’t say it kept me comfortably warm but being wrapped up that and a bit of tarp was enough to keep me from being uncomfortably cold. I did find myself having to do a few press ups in the morning to warm up. Stepping out from the woods at 6 I was amazed and pleased to feel the heat of the sun.
The hedge by the bus stop is now so densely leaved that it is impossible to see if the bus is on it’s way until it is almost upon up. No more standing in a line peering like mere cats eager in the expectation of the busses arrival then.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
