Bell Noise

In self-imposed isolation to, in turn, isolate the Covid-19 virus, it was time to show how appreciative we all are of those who risk their lives to save others. It was 8 pm o'clock on a Thursday evening that we ventured to open our front door to clap - not that many would hear us but the gesture was a good one.
As we only clapped our hands, a TV presenter living nearby was making far more noise with the help of kitchen utensils.
So when the following Thursday came around, I intended to make more sound, this time with a bell from the garden, used to tell birds in freezing conditions that food was being put out for them.
And true enough, my bell made a wonderful sound. But the handle had rotted away, and after a few rings, I was left with the handle in my hand and the bell part rolling down the road. I de-isolated myself to retrieve it.
It is a strange bell, with the striker hitting the inside and the bell itself rocking on a now rusted and broken spindle in the handle - a double action. So how to mend it? Difficult.
I tried to rejuvenate the old handle with nylon cord, waterproof glue and bits of wood. It was not possible.
So I cut a handle from some broomstick-size dowel rod, used a bow saw to cut a wide groove in one end, and drilled holes to accommodate a brass screw that would pass through the wood and a hole in the bell's casting. Then it was a case of adding glue, inserting the casting and screwing it all together.
Now it is just a bell, screwed and glued to a painted handle. It is certainly not as fancy as before, but it makes a good sound and will, I hope, last for many a "noise of appreciation".

Wine Blends

I have been writing on wine, growing grapes and making wine for some years. Many wines are blended at source, so we blend wines as well - mainly in a two-bottle carafe.
In our last virus-related delivery slot some "near" substitutes were included, one being a recently-harvested Australian Shiraz. We found that it was too sweet for pleasurable drinking.
In our bin of "daily wines" was the final bottle of Hammersmith, Triomphe d'Alsace red of our 2010 vintage. This we knew to be a bit too dry for pleasurable drinking. The blend of the two was excellent - most pleasurable.
When so much blending goes on in foreign wineries, why are we, as customers of it, so loath to, in our turn, do some blending as well? We should. 

Mistletoe

It is usually with apprehension that I have written in past blogs on my desire, since childhood in the country, to establish mistletoe on an orchard tree. All my attempts had been failures.
Now I have come to the final episode of this saga. It goes like this.
Trying to get mistletoe to grow on either or both of my London apple or pear trees in pots has been a constant quest, but a fascinating one.
In about 2008, I used fresh mistletoe seeds from Christmas decorations, forcing the berries into the base of fruit spurs, using tape, and combinations of string, glue, rubber solution, roofing sealant and earth. Hoping for a sign of any "taking", I had no luck. I tried the same in 2009 - still no success. I gave up.
In 2010 I was passing a rubbish skip in March and saw a bunch of discarded mistletoe that was covered with dried-out berries. Why not try them?
Using what I thought was the most natural-looking method, I tied them in to the base of many spurs, using string, rubber solution and earth. This surgery blended in well with the trees' bark and was almost invisible. 2011 came and went. 2012 passed. I had failed again. I gave up once more. 2013 came around, and to my utter disbelief a mistletoe sprout appeared at a topmost spur on the apple tree. We drank Champagne. For me it was a gardening triumph.
Next year, 2014, another sprout appeared halfway up the tree. And in 2015 a third growth appeared low down.
But there were no berries to be seen despite the flower-like new growth at the tip of each twig. However, in some 12 years I had achieved success. That was enough.
Then, just in time for Christmas in 2019 two berries appeared on the lowest bunch of branches.
I'm so happy, and rather pleased with myself.