A White Christmas! And time, once again, to ascend mead mountain. Does doing this more than once make it a ritual or tradition? Whatever it is, the excitement of uncovering a bottle of home-brewed mead, buried at the top of a mountain, really never goes away. This bottle had a full twelve months to mature…
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mead mountain x2
beginnings. . . and endings
Interesting things arrived in the post this past week. First, some owls turned up — they didn’t say so, but I think they might have flown across the water from St Andrews (thankyou, Kristin!). Then a package appeared from Japan containing several Kit-Kats, all lurid packaging and intriguing flavours. None of the fabled green ones…
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