I spent Halloween in the pub at Walthamstow. I've stayed at Sam and Lucy's for the past few Thursdays, making use of their hospitality while they are still in the UK.
There was an excited group of trick-or-treaters going along Priory Road as I walked down and they were only a few doors away from Sam's. I told him to expect a knock on the door fairly soon and Sam was a bit worried as he didn't have any treats. I sorted out some 5p coins for them, but they must have his house marked as one to miss because the knock didn't come.
It was Lucy's last day at work (Imperial) and we'd arranged to meet her in the pub. We walked up to The Village, which Leigh Ellerby, a Walthamstow native who works with me in the new business team, rates as one of the best pubs in the town. We went there when Sam and Lucy first moved in and it was full of tiny little flies. I've not been back since until Thursday. There were no flies, but worse, it was acoustic guitar night and some chap was unzipping a case and setting up a microphone and amplifier in the far corner.
On the streets, there were lots of children dressed as monsters and ghouls, but all in groups supervised by adult zombies and devils. Middle-class Walthamstow seems to really have embraced Halloween.
We tried a restaurant just down the road, but it was full and the table they offered us right next to the door was politely declined. We ended up at The Castle, where we'd eaten the week before and eating the same meal - burger and chips. I like The Castle (it has Timothy Taylor's Landlord) and a nice atmosphere, but the menu is a bit restricted. A bonus was a nice dog called Willow a small (for a lurcher) lurcher who had lovely soft fur. Sam met him at the bar and Lucy was jealous because she wanted to stroke him too. As we were leaving, Willow was outside with his owner (who was having a smoke with her friend) so we all have a chat and Willow had lots of attention.
Topic of conversation in the pub was memory and early childhood memories in particular. Sam said his earliest memory was being weighed in the Bedford Hall, but he said that couldn't be so because no-one had any memories before the age of four.
Lucy said her earliest memory was definitely before the age of four. She could remember her child-minder in Swansea and being fed Smash instant mashed potato. There were lots of disgusting memories of Smash - why did people use it?
Sam's other early memory was Peter Milnes putting a snowball down someone's back in the school playground and getting punched in the face. Sam remembers Peter's snowy hands holding his nose and the blood making the snow all red.
Sam couldn't remember his first day at school, but both Lucy and I could. Well, I suppose, on relection, my memories are of early school, possibly first day, but not sure. I think that on my first day, we were given some paper and crayons and a little girl called Denise Bowyer picked a big 'crow' out of her nose and wiped it on the paper. I was very shocked. I think Denise grew up quite sexy, but I'd never be able to get that vision out of my mind.
My first memory might be a little suspect: I think I can remember being born. I remember it as a shock and bright light, but that's all.
Margaret says Sam's memory of Bedford Hall weigh-ins was probably when she took Max and Sam would have been almost five. I'm quite prepared to acknowledge that my memory of being born is probably suggestive memory, but I do have some vivid recollections of childhood.
I can remember fighting a little boy called Frankie Johnson over a three-wheeler scooter. I bit him on the arm and he wailed. When I released my bite, I remember an impression of bleeding teeth marks on his arm. I must have been scolded fiercely and frightened by my mother's shame and horror for that to stick in my mind.
I also have a vivid memory of mum and dad leaving me and my sister in a creche at Middleton Towers holiday camp, in Morecambe. There was a big rocking horse which I wanted, but my sister was panicking and shaking my arm. I turned around and could see mum and dad walking away waving at us. I remember really thinking they were abandoning us and yelling at full pelt. I always had a good pair of lungs and they soon came back.
This weekend just gone (November 2) was our 39th wedding anniversary. We don't buy cards or presents any more - don't look at me like that; see if you still buy presents when you've been married 39 years! We had planned a roast dinner and a few gin martinis for the evening, but I racked my cider and stored the demijohns in the garage during the afternoon. It took longer than expected, so Margaret said there was no time to cook roast chicken and we had fish and chips instead. That wrecked my diet for the weekend.
The cider seems to be coming along quite nicely. I bought three five-gallon glass demijohns because I was worried about leaving it to mature in plastic barrels. It might be OK, but I didn't want to risk it. I now have three glass demijohns, a plastic barrel and two one-gallon plastic demijohns. I'll see how well each batch matures.
I've kept the apple varieties separate (except Chris Smith's and Arcadia's cookers have been blended because I mixed them up at pressing). There's a big difference, well, a noticeable difference, between the cider. It's all matured a little, but still has some way to go. It's dry and a little acidic, so I'm hoping for a mallolactic fermentation where the mallic acid is worked on by a bacteria and turns to lactic acid. This should happen naturally during the fermentation process, so we'll see how it goes during the winter.
The cider is lovely and clear and is drinkable even now. If it was sparkling, you could serve it a little more tart, but for still cider, it really needs to be sweeter. If the mallolactic fermentation doesn't happen, I'll sweeten some artificially and also leave a batch to mature for another year.
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