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We took a trip just over the border from Oldham to Yorkshire yesterday evening, not something that comes easily, you know. We went to experience the Moonraking festival at Slaithwaite.
Each year the villagers of Slaithwaite (they say Slawitt - don't ask me why) celebrate the nineteenth century triumph of local smugglers over the customs and excise officers of the day. The story is quite simple: the smugglers were caught raking barrels of illicit liquor from the reeds on the canal bank; the quick thinking chaps claimed to believe that the reflection of the moon on the water was in fact the real thing, the moon having fallen in the water. They were merely raking the moon out in order to return it to its rightful place.
The customs and excise officers who believed the tale left them to it. Thus was born the Moonraking festival and its glorious winter procession of paper lanterns through the streets.
The streets were teeming with people and the cold winter wind had whipped up a bit of an appetite among me, Mrs C and her mum; so I joined the queue that snaked out of the Captains Table chippy - a nautical name, I know, but I put it down to its proximity to the canal - I suppose narrow boats have captains too.
After an age, I reached the front of the queue and spake my order:
"Two lots of fish and chips, and a fish on its own, to eat now please. Oh, and a buttered muffin."
"A what?"The queue hushed, and I swear people in streets outside stopped what they were doing. I stood my ground,
"A buttered muffin, please."
"You, mean a teacake."
At this stage I'm sure I heard an Enrico Moriconni tune play in the distance. Mothers pulled their children closer, shopkeepers pulled down the shutters and the undertaker with his tape measure whistled cheefully.
"I whipped my poncho to one side, stuck a cheroot between my teeth and met the challenging stare of the assistant with what I hoped was a Clint Eastwood look. Then I remembered Mrs C and her mum stood in the cold outside, and sighed.
"Yes, a teacake please."
The world relaxed and we stood outside eating our food with greasy fingers, happy with glistening chip fat lips while we watched the lovely winter spectacle.
But it was a close thing; it's not safe over that border you know... it was a muffin though.
Here's a photo of one of the fantastic giant lanterns in the parade. I know it's a bit blurry - I'm sure someone, Lisa, will have something technical to say about light, shutter speed and movement, but you get the idea.
I was really excited about the prospect of a coffee sample from The Coffee Bean Shop. I've recently reacquainted myself with good coffee - and they do sell good coffee, really good coffee that meets all my Fairtrade standards too. I bought myself a little stove-top espresso maker for Christmas and have been investigating different brands of Espresso since.
So when I saw my little package of coffee in the mail box, I eagerly ripped open the package. The aroma that seeped through the little brown paper package was mouthwatering. I scanned the label and noticed that I'd have to dust off a cafetiere - no problem. Then my heart sank.
It was like being given a Ferrari only to be told it had been fitted with a speed limiter set at 30mph: DECAFFEINATED.
Still, a review is a review, so three jugs later I can report that everything about this coffee oozes quality: the aroma, the flavour and the description on the website. But as Mrs C and I took mouthful after mouthful of the excellent quality brew we both shared the same expression that said:
"It's nice, really nice...it's just that, well....there's something missing."
No matter how good the Swiss Water Decaffeination process you can't get away from the fact that the caffeine pretty much makes the coffee.
So back to my little Bialetta Brika stove top espresso pot for me. But I think I might be tempted to see what the full power version of Coffee Bean Shop coffee is like - it promises to be pretty damn good.
I am not one of those who bemoan the fact that the UK grinds to a halt when we get a bit of snow. No, I understand how the unpredictability of our weather makes it uneconomical to spend millions of pounds on equipment that would keep us all going through the few days a year when we experience what others in colder climes have all Winter.
The disadvantage with not getting snow that often is that we forget what to do or, having got so used to being without it, try to carry on as if it wasn't there.
Lesson 1: take my car. Six months ago I'd have described it as my new car; but now in the middle of winter, I found I had neglected to read the bit of the handbook entitled 'Driving In Snow', so I didn't turn off the Traction Control when I found myself in blizzard conditions yesterday. Still as the car skidded towards a dry stone wall - that looked quite picturesque bedecked with the white stuff - I did learn that there is a handy little orange light with a picture of a car skidding to let you know you are, well, skidding. Handy that.
Anyway, the car stopped before we hit the wall, and I read the handy book - thought it defeats me why you'd want to turn off the traction control at the time you need most traction.
Lesson 2: About neighbours. In the category of 'carrying on as if it wasn't there' are many of my neighbours. We live at the top of a steep hill which when covered with snow is slippy. You can tell it's slippy just by looking at it. You can tell even more by the cars sliding sideways and backwards as they struggle to grip the gradient. So why do my neighbours insist on even starting the climb as the other cars slew towards them.
Lesson 3: Community Spirit.Perhaps it's the security of having your car as near home as possible, safely on your driveway which incidentally is clear of snow and thoroughly gritted with the council's grit out of the yellow grit bin. Of course their snowy adaptation doesn't extend to any sort of community spirited spreading of grit on the roadway or footpath to help out their neighbours. But then there isn't any grit left for the road - it's all on their drives.
Anyway, this last flush has beaten all of them. A good eight inches is covering our garden and it looks lovely as I walk down to where my car is parked a couple of safe streets away.
Lesson 4: Community Spirit 2. So bring on the chaos I say. What's the problem with a couple of days in the year where we actually have to walk somewhere? The walk from my car to our house took me thirty minutes tonight; not because it was so tough but because I bumped into neighbours I hadn't spoken to for ages (the nice ones, not the other sort). It was great.
P.S. Thanks to Lisa for the picture from her Flickr account.
