feral

It seems so long ago now that I was out gathering fruit. The flat has taken on its winter chill. Still, the jars and bottles of stuff around the kitchen look cheerful, especially when the sun is shining.

Last week we went along to a sort-of-alternative Harvest Fair at the Cube Microplex, a volunteer-run arts place down town. We'd been asked to come along by Kayle, who makes her own Cola and whom we met up my favourite mulberry tree a couple of months back.

Odd sort of business. There were people with nettle beer, cake, homegrown tobacco, and my stuff- damson vodka, mulberry gin, pickled walnuts and home-made bread with poppyseeds from Brendagh's garden. And there was an urban hunter. And, a late arrival, a woman with a chocolate recipe that I shall describe later. We set out our stuff and people looked and poked and sampled. I had bought a pile of little plastic shot glasses and was offering my damson vodka and mulberry gin at 50p a shot, but ended up giving lots away. And someone helped herself to the gin while I thought, "Shall I say something?" and ended up not doing. Grrrr.



Then we trooped into the theatre bit and a chap called VI did something called 'noodling' on a synthesiser while young K writhed in agony. I bore it with fortitude; I have, in my time, sat through an entire concert by Keith and Julie Tippet, in a Very Hot And Packed Room upstairs at the Albert in Bedminster. ("Someone asked me the other day", said Keith, ""Keith", he said, "where do you draw your inspiration from?" And I paused and said, "I just carve it from the living air.... like sculpture."")

And we did a show and tell, and the Urban Hunter described his year's adventuring in search of truth through food. He has killed and eaten a rabbit and a squirrel.

"It's taught me a lot about myself. About what it means to be a man. And what it means to be an animal"

(voice from the audience) "What has it taught you?"

long pause
(another voice from the audience (helpfully)) "Something you can't put into words?"

"Yes, it's something you can't put into words"


We left early. K felt out of place. I think I did, somewhat, too.

Still, the woman with the chocolate was nice. Shame we didn't get chance to talk properly. She does similar stuff to me, I think. And she'd brought along some chocolate to which she'd added the damsons which she'd had left over from making alcoholic stuff. It was inspired. I went home and did it with some of our damsons. Result!