August 2006 Archives

"It's probably the beets," said Brendan.

"What?" said Lucy.

"You know. Tom Robbins. Beets. Love potions," he said.

Lucy shook her head. "You've lost me." She took another sip of the punch.

"Tom Robbins wrote a novel that talked a lot about perfume and beets and love potions."

"Jitterbug Perfume. I've got a copy of it in my tent," said Kathy. "It's brilliant!"

Lucy turned sideways on the bench. She brought her leg up so it lay with the length of her shin against his thigh. "You read a book about perfume?" she said.

"Well, it's not really about perfume," said Brendan. "I mean it is. But it's a novel. It's not a textbook or a history of the science of perfume. It's a novel and it just happens to be about perfume and beets. It's quirky. You'd love it. It talks about beets and how they are a crucial ingredient for love potions."

"Sounds like it would go great with the punch," said Lucy.

Kathy threw her arms up in the air. "We should have a reading!" she said. "A dramatic reading. We can all read different parts. It'll be fantastic! It'll be just like karaoke and charades combined!"

"Oh my God," said Brendan. "I can't think of anything worse than karaoke and charades - especially if combined with a punch made of beets and booze. Look, I just want to sit here and drink Scotch and worry about the contract."

"I'll give it a try," said Lucy.

"Perfect!" said Kathy. "I'll go get it." She disappeared into the crowd.

Brendan sighed.

"Come on," said Lucy. "It will be fun. It's party night. You need to relax. Turn around. I'll do your shoulders." She put her mug down and swung her leg onto the ground so she straddled the bench.

Brendan shrugged. "Never could refuse a backrub," he said. He turned to face away from her. Joe shifted over and started clearing up as he did so. He pulled all the map photocopies into a couple of piles. He put these in his office box and rolled up the other two big maps. He put rubber bands around these and pushed them to the edge of the table near the tent wall.

"Think I'll go for a wander," said Joe.

"No worries." As Joe got up, Brendan straightened out his right leg along the bench where he had been sitting. Lucy began massaging Brendan's upper back.

"It feels like you have boulders in your shoulders," she said.

"Oh my God," he said. "That rhymes. Please tell me the karaoke hasn't started already?"

"Not yet," she said. She pressed both of her thumbs on a bulbous lump of clenched muscle in Brendan's back. She moved them in a slow rotating motion from the centre outwards, pushing into his back as hard as she could. Brendan groaned. His dropped his hands to his sides to try to loosen up his arms and shoulders. They fell on either side of Lucy's knees. She worked the knot for a few more minutes then spread her hands out and gently kneaded his shoulders again. She found another knot and pressed down on this one a little too hard. Brendan sat up a bit and involuntarily clenched Lucy's thighs with his hands.

"Sorry," she said. "Was that too hard?"

"No, it's good," he said. He settled back down on the bench. He left his hands where they were and, after a while, casually began massaging Lucy's knees. She ran her hands down the sides of his back and then up along the centre of his back, pressing the flesh from his spine out to the sides.

They stayed there like that with the party swirling around them for about ten minutes -- Lucy massaged Brendan's back and Brendan massaged Lucy's thighs. They stopped when Kathy showed up with the book.

"I've got it!" she said. Kathy sat down on the other side of the table. Brendan swung around to face her. Lucy let her hands drift away from his back.

"Thanks," he said to Lucy. "That felt fantastic."

"No problem," she said. "But you owe me one"

Brendan nodded. "More Scotch?" he asked.

"You can't have Scotch," said Kathy. "We need to drink the love potion. Here, have a quick skim through the pages." The book was a battered paperbook with a purple cover. It was titled 'Jitterbug Perfume' by Tom Robbins. She handed it to Lucy. Lucy opened the book and Kathy got up and went in search of the punchbowl.

>> Farts Like Gold: 40

The office table was covered by two huge maps of the area printed in blue ink. Joe and Brendan had made notes about access on them in red. Both were creased and filthy. On top of these were photocopies of maps of five of the individual cutblocks. Joe and Brendan sat beside each other facing away from the party. They were copying information onto the maps about how many boxes of trees they planned to put in each block and where they planned to put the caches. The bottle of Scotch and two mugs were on the table in front of them.

Lucy sat down on the bench next to Brendan. "Wow, you guys really know how to party." She leaned forward and put one elbow on the table, resting her cheek on her fist. Her eyes glanced at the bottle of Scotch. "Any chance either of you boys might buy a girl a drink?"

"Help yourself," said Brendan. "I think we're pretty much done working for tonight." He looked over at Joe. Joe shrugged but kept copying numbers on to maps.

Lucy put a mug on the table and poured herself some Scotch. She held the bottle over one of the other mugs. Both Joe and Brendan nodded. Lucy splashed some Scotch into each of the mugs and put the cork back in the bottle.

Matt and Paul sat down on the other side of the office table. Paul had a large mixing bowl full of punch with him. He put it in the middle of the table. Matt took a mug, dipped in the punch and set it down in front of Brendan.

"Yo!" said Matt. "Oh great one. He that is all that is noble and righteous. We ask that you pass judgement on this drink."

Paul elbowed him in the side. "Beseech!" he shouted. "Not ask."

"Right," said Matt. "We beseech you to..."

"Try this drink," said Paul. "It's fan-fucking-tastic. Don't ask what's in it. Just trust us."

Matt looked at Paul. "He's got to know what's in it," said Matt. "Otherwise he won't understand the genius of it."

"We'll tell him afterward," replied Paul. He nudged the mug a little closer to Brendan. Some of it spilled on one of the maps. It was red in colour.

Brendan shook his head. "I don't know, fellahs. Lucy's just poured me some Scotch and Joe and I have got work to do. It would be inconvenient if I was blind and or puking."

"Well, what about that?" Matt indicated the bottle of Scotch. "That's just as poisonous as this is."

"More poisonous," said Paul. "Ours is diluted."

"What's in it?" asked Brendan.

Matt and Paul looked at each other. "Healthy stuff," said Paul.

"Fruit." said Matt. "Fruit and fruit juice."

"And some vegetables," said Paul.

"And booze," said Matt.

"But not many vegetables," said Paul. "We put in some beet juice as there seemed to be a certain reluctance regarding the consumption of cranberry juice and we thought camouflaging the colour might make people forget about the cranberry juice. Oh, and some carrots."

"But no potatoes," said Matt. "We discussed it but decided two root vegetables was enough."

"It's basically a smoothie," said Paul.

"But with booze added to it," said Matt. "So maybe more like a daiquiri than a smoothie." Paul nodded and grinned.

Lucy leaned across in front of Brendan and sniffed the concoction. Her hair brushed against his chin. "Smells all right," she said. "I think you should try it."

Brendan picked up the mug and smelled it himself. "Smells mostly like cranberry juice. What booze did you put in it?"

Matt counted them off on his fingers. "Rum, Vodka, Tequila, Rye, and a bit more Rum. Mostly rum, actually."

"And a little bit of beer," added Paul. "But that was by accident."

"Go on," said Lucy. "You know you want to."

"Why me?" asked Brendan.

"You are our leader," said Matt. "We made a vat of the stuff and you need to set an example so the rest of the crew will drink it."

"Thus, the beseeching," said Paul.

"It's for safety," said Matt. "If your worn out old system can take it, then the rest of us will be fine."

Brendan looked around. A number of planters were surrounding the table now. Kathy was one of them.

"I propose a toast," she said. She held her mug above her head. "To Brendan, the bravest foreman in the land."

Everyone near the table raised their mugs. Brendan reluctantly held aloft the cranberry, beet, and rum concoction. "To me," he said and knocked back the contents of the mug.

Everyone laughed and drank.

Brendan put the mug down on the table. He looked puzzled. "That may be the oddest drink I've ever had," he said.

"But damn tasty, don't you think?" said Paul.

"And safe, right?" said Matt.

Brendan stood up and surveyed the group surrounding the table. "I hereby declare the Matt and Paul beet, carrot, and rum drink to be safe for public consumption and not unpleasant tasting. Pour me another!"

The crowd cheered.

Matt and Paul jumped up. "Success!" said Paul. Matt refilled Brendan's mug and the two of them carried the improvised punch bowl into the heart of the party.

Brendan sat down and retrieved his mug of Scotch.

"How was it?" asked Lucy.

Brendan picked up the mug of punch and handed it to her. "Not bad. It's somehow sharp and mellow at the same time. Kind of like if you mixed a bowl of borscht with a pina colada. But I think I'll stick with Scotch."

Lucy sipped the punch. She put the mug down on the table. She turned her head sideways and peered at it on an angle. "It's definitely a little odd-tasting, but I think it could grow on me. It's exactly what a love potion would taste like if there was such a thing as a love potion."

>> Farts Like Gold: 39

Another Sunday deadline has just passed with that terrible whooshing sound that deadlines make. I’m beginning to get a bit worried about the whole novel-writing work ethic. As always, I have excuses at the ready though. One is a good excuse and one is piss-poor really, but kinda cool in a geeky way so stay tuned.

I took this week off from work to try to catch up on the novel-writing as well as a few other non-work commitments. One of these commitments was building the supporting website for a charity cycle ride I’m embarking on in the first week of September from London to Amsterdam. Check it out. It’s lovely: http://www.ibcbikeride.co.uk/. This, then was the first noble excuse and it is tied to the more selfish but arguably cooler second excuse.

Actually, there’s a third excuse, but it’s an excuse for next Sunday, not last Sunday. It’s me and the missus’s 8th wedding anniversary on Friday. Fortunately all three excuses come together as you are about to see. And they come together in three little letters: GPS.

I kind of bought my own anniversary gift, which I admit isn’t a very romantic way to go about things, but hey, it’s better than letting your spouse choose. My poor, long-suffering wife got nothing but a pair of bicycle tires for as her anniversary gift.

Anyway, with the same aforementioned spouse’s approval, I bought myself a little gps receiver that connects via Bluetooth to my phone. There’s quite a variety of free software out there that lets you connect your phone to these types of gps units. The coolest service I’ve found so far though is a free online tracking service. I set this up for the charity ride to Amsterdam but I’m just testing it out in general as well to see how it works.

This is potentially very exciting for you gentle reader as tomorrow the missus and I are cycling from Richmond to Marlow along the Thames, and you’ll be able to follow us in real time! How romantic is that? We both get to put our anniversary gifts to good use.
Just go to http://free.3dtracking.net/home.aspx and login with:
username: bbc2ibc
password: bbc2ibc

Cool or what? The best part is if you have Google Earth installed, you can follow us on Google Earth and the aerial photography google has for the area we’re going through is fantastic. You’ll be able to pretty much ride along with us as we go. Check it out.

Tomorrow (Thursday) we take the train to Richmond and then cycle to the Danesfield House just past Marlow. Friday we lounge around and get all loveydovey. Saturday we cycle home again.

1 lime 1 shot of rum 1.5 shots of sugar syrup several crushed penquins

A Caipirinha is a cocktail made with cachaça (Brazilian rum), limes, sugar syrup, and crushed ice. I made some fantastic ones when we were on holiday in Italy, but a week ago I made a batch which were far from perfect. I've done some experimenting lately and have decided to share with the world my recipe for making the perfect Caipirinha.

Sugar Syrup

Some people think the rum is the most crucial ingredient in a Caipirinha. These people are fools. They have tiny tiny brains and are only one evolutionary step above trout. Do not listen to them. Sugar syrup is the key to a good Caipirinha.

Fortunately, sugar syrup is easy to make. The key is to wedge as much sugar in the water as possible. And this is where we need something called science. You can't just go about shoving grains of sugar into a cup of water as you would clowns into a tiny car. Water and sugar are completely different states of matter. One is a liquid and one is a solid. Clowns and cars are both solids, and, in fact, both begin with the letter "C". This makes it easy to combine the two.

In order to get sufficient sugar into the water you need to apply heat. Do this carefully, without arousing suspicion. Pretending to make tea is a good ruse. Pour yourself a big mug of boiling water. Simply omit the teabag and milk. Just keep adding sugar and stirring until no more sugar will dissolve. This will probably be far more sugar than you think. Recently, through careful science, I discovered exactly the correct proportions. I started with 150ml of boiling water and began adding sugar in small increments, one tablespoon at a time. After four tablespoons of sugar, it looked like the rate of dissolvamentation was slowing so I switched to adding sugar in 1/2 teaspoon increments. This turned out to be premature. I finally reached the saturation point 18 measures later by which time I was well and truly bored and my wife was convinced I was insane.

Anyway, you need roughly 2 parts of sugar to 3 parts of water. I.e.
150ml of water
100gm of sugar

Now that you've made the sugar syrup, put it into the fridge to cool.

Limes

Remember to wash your limes! It may be less of a hazard for some of you, but for me, living as I do with the crazy landlord, I can't be certain that any fruit in the house hasn't been involved in some kind of filthy sexual highjinks.

You should only need one lime per Caipirinha. Cut it into eighths. You can do this with a hatchet or a knife. Chainsaws are not recommended. Place the eight pieces of lime in a large sturdy mug. Add one shot of tasty rum, preferably cachaça. Add 60.13ml of chilled sugar syrup. Then take any large lump of wood (once again, make sure it is very clean) and muddle the limes with it. The technical term for muddling is "smushing".

Ice

You need shaved or crushed ice. I like to use ice in interesting shapes like penguins or pieces of lego. It's a bit pointless really because they get smashed beyond recognition. Maybe I just harbour a secret hatred of penguins. I don't know. It's just more fun.

Note that shaving ice can be quite tricky. I advise against whittling. For one thing, to properly whittle, you need to be in a rocking chair on a porch in the deep south of America. The heat in such an environment will make your ice melt in your hands and you will cut your thumb off. There is also a danger that the Caipirinha will be tainted with the smell of hound dog and engine parts.

On alternative method that works quite well is to put the ice in a plastic bag and wrap it in a clean piece of cloth such as a towel or evening gown, and then smash it with something heavy like a tuba.

Finally, fill a glass about three quarters full with crushed ice and pour the muddled concoction of rum, lime and sugar syrup over it. Hold it up to the light, sip it, and smile. You have just made the perfect Caipirinha.