I have been indulgent with woefulness today. It might be something to do with having to get up out of a toasty warm bed, and into the freezer-type temperature of the caravan in the mornings.
One of the first questions we ask of each other is: has the water frozen, has the gas frozen, is the gazebo still standing, are our fingers and toes still attached to relevant bits of our bods, do you want some toast and jam? - oops sorry can't do that this morning - no gas! Oh, so porridge cooked in the microwave then? We used to look upon porridge as a treat. For some reason it feels like doing penance now.
Not sure why.
Perhaps it is the fig jam we put with it. We like fig jam. I made thirty pots of it in the late summer, some of which was donated to neighbours, most of it was put in our first store-cupboard. But now, in January, and after having waded our way through loads of pots already, that too seems like a penance. I counted five pots left.
One of the first questions we ask of each other is: has the water frozen, has the gas frozen, is the gazebo still standing, are our fingers and toes still attached to relevant bits of our bods, do you want some toast and jam? - oops sorry can't do that this morning - no gas! Oh, so porridge cooked in the microwave then? We used to look upon porridge as a treat. For some reason it feels like doing penance now.
Not sure why.
Perhaps it is the fig jam we put with it. We like fig jam. I made thirty pots of it in the late summer, some of which was donated to neighbours, most of it was put in our first store-cupboard. But now, in January, and after having waded our way through loads of pots already, that too seems like a penance. I counted five pots left.
And I am wondering if other smallholder-self-sufficient-types also have this trouble: of doing the seriously earnest bit of jamming, freezing, etc, when the produce is plentiful, and then at some point during the following months thinking: 'oh dear, how much more is there to go!' I fantasize about having a humungous store-cupboard. Having to use up the produce in those 'humungous store-cupboard' shelves seems to require a different mind-set, or so it would appear.
Or perhaps all I need to do is buy a pot of supermarket jam, and then go back to the fig jam when it is finished so I can feel virtuous all over again. The long trail of actually eating the fig jam seems to have faded away my 'self-sufficiency halo'! The trick to keeping that halo bright and shiny would appear to be; to buy supermarket produce from time-to-time, just to remind oneself how super-duper efficient it is to grow one's own food!
Or perhaps all I need to do is buy a pot of supermarket jam, and then go back to the fig jam when it is finished so I can feel virtuous all over again. The long trail of actually eating the fig jam seems to have faded away my 'self-sufficiency halo'! The trick to keeping that halo bright and shiny would appear to be; to buy supermarket produce from time-to-time, just to remind oneself how super-duper efficient it is to grow one's own food!
It is also super-duper to be living in real fresh air rather than in the dry environment of a centrally heated house, and not keeping the caravan warm overnight is preserving our carbon footprint.
And what tosh that is! We don't leave the fire on because it makes a noise and keeps us awake!
But the 'carbon footprint' comment is guaranteed to give another shine to our self-sufficiency halo!
And what tosh that is! We don't leave the fire on because it makes a noise and keeps us awake!
But the 'carbon footprint' comment is guaranteed to give another shine to our self-sufficiency halo!
PS. I am fiddling about with fonts and stuff, so please excuse the bitty look to this blog. And I can't seem to get back to the first blog to alter it so everything looks neat and tidy. A thought: am I undoing my carbon-footprint investment by using up extra electricity to tinker about with the blog! With that thought, I will say bye for now!
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