And it's back to credit crunch battening down the hatches. I have decided that if the worst comes to the worst, then I need to get the storecupboard full. So, like a little squirrel, I have been chutneying everything that is in sight. We have tomato and apple chutney, runner bean and apple chutney, grass and gravel chutney and, my favourite, toast crust and brocoli bake chutney.
I have also been picking up the windfall apples and am boiling, drying and bottling them too. The trouble is, we are already so sick of apples in whatever form they take, that I don't think anyone will be cracking open a jar this winter. The nice bit is that the house smells of drying apples, which is slightly better than what it smelt of before. It also has an apple slick over every surface which is beginning to bring the fruit flies back out of hibernation.
So, basically, don't do me a favour of any sort for the next couple of months, as the thank you is usually a little jar of something- so far most of which I have been finding slung in the hedge a couple of hundred yards down the road.
The appearance of stigmata that I have given myself with the apple-corer have only been slightly out done by the welts that are across my palms from starting to saw up the logs from our recent chainsaw adventure and that fact that I very nearly cut off my foot with an axe this morning.
Hey ho, must go and flip those apple rings,