abendgules (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
abendgules) wrote2012-08-31 04:06 pm
abendgules) wrote2012-08-31 04:06 pm
Other fine bits of Raglan, not just the rain and fencing
Archery
One super aspect for me at Raglan was coaching shooting with two young archers,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nusbacher's eldest A. and Floris and Hannah's eldest E.
One super aspect for me at Raglan was coaching shooting with two young archers,
nusbacher's eldest A. and Floris and Hannah's eldest E. Both were attentive and careful, and seemed to really enjoy the shooting even with rain. A persisted in shooting even in a downpour that soaked her through, and her efforts were rewarded - she had a group of 4 arrows that you could circle with your thumb and forefinger, and thus TRM named her their archery champion. Pretty cool.
Apparently E had gotten the shooting bug at Double Wars this year. After a quiet morning of shooting with me, Floris and Hannah went offsite to get their daughter equipment of her own at the nearest pro shop. Whenever I saw her off the range, she was shooting her toy bow with plunger arrows (usually at her brother), so she's clearly got archery on the brain.
The great Syllabbubb
edith_hedingham wanted to test a medieval recipe for syllabub (a mix of white wine and heavy cream, whipped) whereby you whip the cream by pouring it into a bowl from a great height - like two storeys. Really!
My sweetie took this experimental archeology into hand, and after duly practicing pouring with water, poured two pints of whipping cream into a bowl filled with a bottle of white wine. from the top of the bridge (linked toaryanhwy's LJ for the photo).
And good gall-dang, doesn't it work brilliantly!
It appears that the pouring the cream off the bridge into wine aerates the cream and sets it in bubbles, so you end up with a huge alcoholic froth on top and a boozy beverage underneath.
jpgsawyer spooned some into his tall pass-glass, and we took turns getting silly frothy moustaches. It was better than any milkshake.
Gracie the greyhound, the perfect pavilion accessory
Gracie belongs tonusbacher, and has been part of the household less than a year. She's a retired runner, and has the sweetest temperment imaginable. She seems very happy to be towed around by excited kids, and isn't bothered by outbreaks of love and fuss. Though being nourished on what nusbacher called biologically appropriate raw food (BARF), Gracie actually seemd to prefer her duck mince heated through and cooked for her, and was not above snarfing crunchy bacon rinds on offer.
She looked perfect, flopped as only greyhounds can with their whole bodies, snoozing outside our pavilion.
She had to move for awhile during one day, when the nice CADW staffer came by to ask if we could please move her delicious snack (a half a sheep's head) out of sight - apparently it was a bit too medieval for some visitors' tastes.
Gracie's one failing was assuming that everyone would be as delighted to meet her as she was to meet them - including the castle cat, Tibbs. Tibbs has taken over the role from the much loved Edward and Beatrice, castle cats, welcome wagons and mighty bacon-hunters of past years. She's kept company by Black Meg (all black, unsurprisingly), and the two of them are much more low-key than either Edward or Beatrice were, though apparently excellent mole-hunters.
Tibbs was profoundly unimpressed by G's assumption, and gave G's face and ear some serious swatting, resulting in anxious swabbing of Gracie's head by worried little girls. The cat, with its bottle-brush tail retained, sat with its back to us, tail extended, behind a fence marked PRIVATE. It was as close to '*** off' as a cat can get.
Apparently E had gotten the shooting bug at Double Wars this year. After a quiet morning of shooting with me, Floris and Hannah went offsite to get their daughter equipment of her own at the nearest pro shop. Whenever I saw her off the range, she was shooting her toy bow with plunger arrows (usually at her brother), so she's clearly got archery on the brain.
The great Syllabbubb
edith_hedingham wanted to test a medieval recipe for syllabub (a mix of white wine and heavy cream, whipped) whereby you whip the cream by pouring it into a bowl from a great height - like two storeys. Really!My sweetie took this experimental archeology into hand, and after duly practicing pouring with water, poured two pints of whipping cream into a bowl filled with a bottle of white wine. from the top of the bridge (linked to
aryanhwy's LJ for the photo).And good gall-dang, doesn't it work brilliantly!
It appears that the pouring the cream off the bridge into wine aerates the cream and sets it in bubbles, so you end up with a huge alcoholic froth on top and a boozy beverage underneath.
jpgsawyer spooned some into his tall pass-glass, and we took turns getting silly frothy moustaches. It was better than any milkshake. Gracie the greyhound, the perfect pavilion accessory
Gracie belongs to
nusbacher, and has been part of the household less than a year. She's a retired runner, and has the sweetest temperment imaginable. She seems very happy to be towed around by excited kids, and isn't bothered by outbreaks of love and fuss. Though being nourished on what nusbacher called biologically appropriate raw food (BARF), Gracie actually seemd to prefer her duck mince heated through and cooked for her, and was not above snarfing crunchy bacon rinds on offer.She looked perfect, flopped as only greyhounds can with their whole bodies, snoozing outside our pavilion.
She had to move for awhile during one day, when the nice CADW staffer came by to ask if we could please move her delicious snack (a half a sheep's head) out of sight - apparently it was a bit too medieval for some visitors' tastes.
Gracie's one failing was assuming that everyone would be as delighted to meet her as she was to meet them - including the castle cat, Tibbs. Tibbs has taken over the role from the much loved Edward and Beatrice, castle cats, welcome wagons and mighty bacon-hunters of past years. She's kept company by Black Meg (all black, unsurprisingly), and the two of them are much more low-key than either Edward or Beatrice were, though apparently excellent mole-hunters.
Tibbs was profoundly unimpressed by G's assumption, and gave G's face and ear some serious swatting, resulting in anxious swabbing of Gracie's head by worried little girls. The cat, with its bottle-brush tail retained, sat with its back to us, tail extended, behind a fence marked PRIVATE. It was as close to '*** off' as a cat can get.