Whatever that means
It was a struggle to find a way to adequately convey the sheer scale of the spud hoiked from the bed this morning as we emptied everything and tidied up for winter. Then we realised that it was almost exactly the same size as Ellen’s noggin. Huge.
What else? Some tidying in the brew shed after yesterday’s frustrating marathon of 45 litres of something akin to Bitter and Twisted. Well, 25 litres of something like B&T and then 20 litres of what we in the trade call second runnings – a remashing of the grains to make a proper small beer. Should be about 2% of hoppiness when it’s done. Unless it’s 20 litres of wateriness.
Some construction of raised beds for next year. Some bagels. They’re nice. And some cutting down of big posts found while clearing out the brew shed. They looked like big rotten old bits of wood but once cut, one of them’s a really nice Douglas Fir and the other’s just pine. I think there’s some oak there too. Mind, that was an hour of big noise for the neighbours. Me and my table saw making a heap of saw dust.
All rounded off with a showing of Back to the Future (which I slept through) and a lovely risotto from yesterday’s chicken stock. The best bit is that I have no work tomorrow.