Holy Mother’s Ruin You’d be wise to try this frankincense gin
BRISTOL Cathedral recently launched its own brand of gin, a limited edition number made in collaboration with local drinks company Espensen Spirit.
Well, I suppose that as they’re Anglicans it’s OK, though you’d never catch the Methodists doing this kind of thing.
The new Chapterhouse Gin has been inspired by the herbs and spices which would have been grown and used by the monks back in medieval times when it was St Augustine’s Abbey.
Every bottle goes to help with the cathedral’s funds, via the Friends of Bristol Cathedral, who fund projects which beautify the cathedral and care for the building, so you can knock a couple back safe in the knowledge that it’s going to a good, some might say sacred, cause.
The Very Rev Dr Mandy Ford, Dean of Bristol, said: “This gin reflects that heritage and celebrates the flavours of our herb garden, with a hint of mystery from the frankincense which is used as a symbol of prayer in worship.”
Find out more, and get your bottles at bristol-cathedral.co.uk/ chapterhousegin
Barton Hill history
The Barton Hill History Group is holding a community history day this coming Saturday, October 30, at the St Anne’s Board Mill Social Club, Avonvale Road, Redfield.
It runs from 11am to 4pm and entrance is free – though donations are very welcome. Garry Atterton, of BHHG, says: “Please make every effort to attend and support the history group and the St Anne’s Board Mills Club.”
This is your chance to meet some of the people behind one of the best local history societies in the region, folks who have been diligently researching the heritage of east Bristol for almost 40 years.
There’ll be displays on Barton Hill, Lawrence Hill, New Town, Redfield and Whitehall as well as models of Lawrence Hill Station, the old Barton Hill Cotton Factory, New Town street patterns, Lawrence Hill before and after the roundabout and Whitehall School. There will also be slide shows running all day. Books and magazines about Barton Hill and surrounding districts will also be available.
Garry adds: “We have booked a fabulous new room called the New Room. The bar in the club will be open from 12 to 3pm, where you can have refreshments. Tea and coffee will also be served throughout the day. The skittle alley will also be available to ensure people have as much space as possible to safely meet, have a chat and catch up on old times.”
Correction
BT’s spread of colour pics of Brislington back in the day (BT, October 12) fortunately (as it turns out) stated that any mistakes in the piece were the property of BT, and not of Jonathan Rowe, who supplied much of the information and caption details.
Less fortunately, one of the mistakes we made was in saying that William Champion built the Black Castle. Of course it wasn’t. It was William Reeve. We knew that; just a slip of the keyboard.
Apologies for this elementary error. BT’s editor will now be selfisolating on the Naughty Step until Christmas.
Science conkers nature
In autumn, you’ll see parents out walking, drawing the attention of younger children to the lovely shiny horse chestnuts lying on the ground, but older kids aren’t really interested in conkers anymore, and haven’t been for some years now.
If actual games of conkers as played by children go on anywhere they’re probably highly organised things at National Trust properties and probably require the kids (whose mummies and daddies will have paid a tidy sum for the privilege) to wear safety goggles and body armour.
When I were a lad, conkers was a big deal in the park and at school every autumn. More determined players would swap tips on how to harden them (baking in the oven, soaking in vinegar), though the jury was out on whether or not this constituted cheating.
We were, though, in broad agreement that the Nerdy Science Boy (there was one in every class, wasn’t there?) was definitely cheating when he coated a conker in some sort of resin. But then it shattered on first contact with a nut determinedly whacked at it by another kid, so yah boo sucks to him.
The history of scientific progress is not a smooth path, but one with a lot of dead ends.
Take, for instance, Bristol’s conker contribution to the war effort in WWI.
Acetone – the solvent in paint thinners and nail polish remover – was needed in huge quantities for the manufacture of cordite explosives and shell propellant. Back then it was made by fermenting starch (usually from maize), but this would mean diverting precious foodstuffs that could be consumed by livestock or humans.
Manchester University chemist Chaim Weizmann (later the first President of Israel), who had developed the fermentation process, suggested an alternative source of starch – conkers.
In the autumn of 1917 a notice went out to schools and Boy Scout troops around the country: “Groups of scholars and Boy Scouts are being organised to collect conkers… This collection is invaluable war work and is very urgent. Please encourage it.”
It was no secret that they were needed for the production of munitions, and collectors were offered seven shillings and sixpence (37.5p) per hundredweight. This was about a quarter of what an unskilled worker earned in a week, so think of it as about £100 nowadays.
For this, you needed to collect 112lbs (51 kilos) of conkers – with the spiky green shells removed, mind. So even by the standards of the time this was not a great screw in pocket money terms.
Nonetheless, youngsters were eager to do their bit, and soon local schools were inundated with sacks of conkers. In the way of these things, nobody knew what to do with them – not in Bristol, at any rate. In the end, people were told to take them to the Merchant Venturers College on Unity Street.
Where they went from there, we don’t know. What we do know is that the end results were disappointing, and most of the hard-won conkerly bounty ended up rotting in enormous piles. The Ministry of Munitions had to look for other sources of starch.
Snail conkers?
By the time of the Great War, playing conkers was a popular pastime, but we’re told that this was not always the case. Assorted online histories suggest that conkers caught on in the middle of the 19th century.
Diligent research (Ahem! Er, thanks Wikipedia) also informs me that the great Bristolian poet and author Robert Southey (1774-1843) recalled in later life that kids didn’t play conkers when he was young. But they did play a similar game using snail shells or even hazelnuts, both of which sound very unsatisfactory.
Now this got me all excited. Did Bristol pioneer conkers with snail shells? I searched through Southey’s copious memoirs, but couldn’t find any mention of it. Either I missed it, or it’s the usual case of one person getting it wrong and lots of other people copying the mistake.
So if any of you kind people can find the bit where Southey writes about snail-conkers or even hazelnut conkers, please let us know.
PS. Mindful of the difficult winter ahead I also asked the internet (so you didn’t have to) whether or not it’s possible to eat horse chestnuts. The answer’s no. Don’t do it. It’ll make you ill.
Cheers then!