A sceptic's take on being human – or should that be virtuous?
Outsider wins sourdough barmy race
The 50:1 outsider wins!
Maybe I spoke too soon. I was so pleased that the original sourdough starter hadn’t actually died, I implied – OK bragged – that it was indestructible. However, when I added a feed of dark rye flour to the original batch I also scraped off a few tiny flakes of starter that had dried out (maybe 1/2 gram)and were stuck to the rim of the old fermentation jar, then dropped them into a jam jar with some tepid water and a tablespoon of dark rye flour and left them both on one side overnight.
In the morning the old faithful had thrown a few sulky bubbles but otherwise nothing; however the homeopathic flakes in the jam jar had bubbled up all over the worktop and when I unscrewed the lid there was a healthy hiss. It was so eager to make bread I transferred it into some luxury Tupperware accommodation, fed it again since when it’s been growling at me from above the stove. Tonight I shall make a batter with some leftover organic flour; but I’ve ordered a trial batch of Shipton Mill organic Maris Widgeon flour and I’ll start experimenting with that when it arrives. Baking is such a joyful activity and it annoys me that many so-called experts make it sound difficult. It really isn’t. Sure, the whole process takes maybe 36 hours but of that it takes 10 minutes to make the batter, maybe 20 minutes to weigh out the ingredients and knead, and 35 minutes to bake. Aside from that you can do something useful; make lists, identify plants fill databases and write blogs. What’s not to like?
Oh and sorry – the English insult “barmy” derives from the excited way the yeast bubbles out of its container – the barm pot. There’s one on my stove.
I've spent my life doing a lot of things, all of them interesting and many of them great fun.
When most people see my CV they probably think I'm making things up because it includes being a rather bad welder and engineering dogsbody, a potter, a groundsman and bus driver. I taught in a prison and in one of those ghastly old mental institutions as an art therapist and I spent ten years as a community artist. I was one of the founding members of Spike Island, which began life as Artspace Bristol. ! wrote a column for Bristol Evening Post (I got sacked three times, in which I take some pride) and I worked in local and network radio and then finally became an Anglican parish priest for 25 years, retiring at 68 when I realised that the institutional church and me were on different paths.
What interests me? It would be easier to list what doesn't, but I love cooking and baking with our home grown ingredients. I'm fascinated by botany and wildlife in general, and botanical illustration. We have a camper van that takes us to the wild places, we love walking, especially in the hills, and we take too many photographs.
But what really animates me is the question "what does it mean to be human?". I've spent my life exploring it in every possible way and the answer is ..... well, today it's sitting in the van in the rain and looking across Ramsey Sound towards Ramsey Island. But it might as easily be digging potatoes or making pickle, singing or finding an orchid or just sitting. But it sure as hell doesn't mean getting a promotion, beasting your co-workers or being obsequious to power, which ensured that my rise to greatness in the Church of England flatlined 30 years ago after about 2 days. But I'm still here and still searching for that elusive sweet spot, and I don't have to please anyone any more.
Over the last 50 or so years we've had a succession of gardens, some more like wildernesses when we were both working full-time, but now we're back in the game with our two allotments in Bath.
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