Category Archives: Chilli

Whither Poldark?

Posted on June 1, 2015 | Leave a comment

Hello everyone, hope you managed to have a nice weekend – the weather turned all British on us, which was fun. A nice bit of sunshine on Saturday, but then an awful lot of dampness ensued, but we should really be used to that by now.

One for the ladies

Just a quickie this week as I’m preparing for the Royal Cornwall Show, which starts on Thursday. This is one of my biggest events of my year, and promises to be an extremely busy few days. I’m doing it on my own this year – the Pink Chilli Hobbit helped me out last year but I’m going solo this time round (echoes of real life!) – so that means getting down there on Wednesday and getting the gazebo up and stocked, then heading over to the campsite and sorting out my accommodation for the event. As long as I allow myself enough time it’ll all be just fine and I won’t get too stressed, but knowing me something will come up that scuppers my plans. Good weather would be lovely as there’s nothing fun about camping in the rain, but I’ll just deal with whatever is thrown at me. You can find us at stand 404, hope you can find us (bit of an IT joke there…)

The Royal Bath & West was a huge success for us, well done to the guys for fronting it up and working their proverbials off over the course of the event. It’s always one of the highlights of the year and we love going there. Jamie, Bond and Beard shifted a huge amount of stock between them and spread our chilli joy (and in some cases pain) far and wide. I’m not sure what kind of voodoo Jamie used in order to get two stands, but it worked! We even came away with yet another award, this time for the best trade stand in the food halls. It’s the second time we’ve won this particular award, so we’re really chuffed.

I was at Caldicot Castle for the Monmouthshire Food Festival, a lovely event in a brilliant setting. The weather didn’t quite play ball, but what’s not to love about an event in the grounds of a castle? The locals were lovely, I had the best bacon & black pudding roll ever, and came away with supplies of beer from Brecon Brewing (who coincidentally are official brewers of Terry Pratchett branded beers) and some fantastic chocolate courtesy of Black Mountain Gold, which I am trying very hard not to devour at warp speed. Proving difficult.

As well as Cornwall this week we’ll be at the continental market in Bromley from Thursday through to Sunday, Devizes Farmers Market on Saturday and Swindon’s Designer Outlet on Sunday. The Pink Chilli Hobbit will have her PinkBox Boutique stall up at Toby Buckland’s Garden Festival at Bowood House on Friday and Saturday, and Simon from The Chilli Hut will be deputising for us in Frome on Sunday.

Right…time to go and find the tent…it’ll be somewhere in the garage, just past Shergar and round the corner from Lord Lucan…

I would like to die on Mars. Just not on impact.

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Posted in Chilli, General

Tagged Awards, Royal Bath & West, Wiltshire Chilli Farm

Dammit, Janet

Posted on May 29, 2015 | Leave a comment

Hello once again, I must have some time to myself as I find myself in front of the laptop writing a blog. Twice in a week, this is becoming habit forming!

Whisper it quietly, but the sun’s out (briefly). Now I’m not guaranteeing a barbecue summer or unending long evenings spent sipping Pimm’s on the verandah, but it’s nice out there right now, let’s hope it lasts. Of course we’ve not hit Wimbledon fortnight yet, which is a usually cue for epic downpours and – regrettably – outbreaks of Cliff Richard. You have been warned.

So we’ve been planting. This is not a fun job. I’m not just talking about getting a few pots and compost, and bunging seedlings in. No, this is grovelling around at floor level, poking holes in groundsheets, thrusting plants into the ground type stuff. Now when you’re a hobbit of advanced years such as myself I do wonder just why I’ve chosen such a frankly painful career digression, when there are perfectly serviceable shelves that need stacking. But there I was , craft knife in hand, playing the role of hole-cutter-in-chief whilst Simon followed up and poked plants through said holes and into the ground. Our combined ages are getting perilously close to a century, and we’re the oldest two on the farm, so how the hell did we end up doing that job? Obviously age does not bring wisdom or we’d have found a less taxing job to do.

But that’s it – the crop’s in the ground, and looking mighty fine it is too. As is always the case, there’s everything from the quite sensible to the frankly bloody incendiary stuff growing, including some strains new to us. I look forward to seeing the plants grow up during the year, and give us all those lovely pods we need.

Last weekend saw a flurry of activity round the country, with events in Cardiff, Gloucester, Salisbury, Chippenham, Bath, London and Cowbridge being covered by us. Some were good, some were average, some were altogether a bit pants…but you win some, you lose some.

Talking of losing, my big adventure of the weekend was a trip to Wembley Stadium to watch Swindon Town play in the League 1 play-off final. As a seasoned supporter of some 38 years I’m well accustomed to the ups and downs of sport, and am quite aware that sometimes, just sometimes, you may just as well have stayed in bed. Sunday was one of those days. We were well and truly given a lesson in How To Win An Important Game by Preston, who were simply far hungrier than we were for the win. We looked good in small doses, but really from early on it was only going one way. An experience like that is quite deflating for loyal fans such as myself, but at least I have the emotional fortitude to just suck it up and get on with life, not like some of our so-called fans who were hurling abuse at the players after the match. Idiots like that don’t get it – no professional (or amateur, come to think of it) sportsman goes out to lose, or play badly – sometimes it just happens like that. Or maybe – just maybe – you have to give the opposition credit for having done their homework and beaten you fair and square. No team has the right to win all the time, despite Arsene Wenger’s protestations to the contrary. Ah well, there’s always next season.

Back in the chilli world, and this week we launch into big event season. Even as I type, Jamie, Bond and Beard are at the Royal Bath & West Show, one of our biggest events of the year. Jamie spent an inordinate amount of time last week measuring, sawing, then nailing pieces of wood into other pieces of wood, and subsequently varnishing the ensuing creations a colour that wood never quite reaches in real life. To be fair, I only saw the half-finished creation, so it may match the Mona Lisa for enigmatic glory once it’s all set up, but of one thing I am absolutely, 100%, stone-cold-certain – Jamie will not be happy with it, and next year he will be furiously sawing and hammering once again! If you’re down at the RB&W make sure you hunt us out – we have two stands set up – we’d love to see you.

And whilst you’re there, check out our friends PinkBox Boutique…naturally Kerry won’t have the WCF range with her this time as we’re also at the show, but she’ll have some lovely stuff for sale at stand 412 (the Westridge Marquee) – she’ll certainly be glad to see you!

Not content with that, we’re also at the continental market in Kilmarnock and the Monmouthshire Food Festival at Caldicot Castle this weekend – so that’s Britain covered. Oh, and Swindon…we’ll be there on Sunday as well…does Swindon count as Britain, or has it seceded from the union yet? There are some days when it certainly feels like it’s more like an alien world than a large town in Wiltshire.

That’s it for this week folks, time for me to prepare for the weekend’s hostilities. Be careful out there!

Some humans would do anything to see if it was possible to do it. If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying ‘End-of-the-World Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH’, the paint wouldn’t even have time to dry.

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Posted in Chilli, Football, General

Blinking into the daylight

Posted on May 19, 2015 | Leave a comment

Well hello there fellow chilli fans…it’s been a while! It’s been…whoah…how long? To use the lingo of young, text-happy, folk – soz 😦

I could go into great detail about why I’ve been so quiet, but frankly there are no good reasons. It does go a bit quiet at the start of the year, but once we’ve recovered from the mayhem that is Christmas there’s plenty to do, to report on, and to wax lyrical about. I’ve just been a lazy arse and not done it.

Of course events take a bit of a back seat at the start of the year. Everyone’s broke, the weather’s a bit pants and no-one comes out to play. There are times when I’m trying my damnedest to sell on a grey February day, when the damp and the cold is seeping into my bones, and I bemoan the lack of customers…and then I think – would I g0 out on a day like this if I didn’t have to? Invariably the answer is no, I fully appreciate the lure of a duvet day or a long Sunday lunch down the local. Oh, how I remember them…

Cooking does take a bit of a back seat, and we at the Farm end up discussing all sorts of cunning plans for world domination that are not necessarily ready to share with Joe and Jane Public. Especially the bit about the chilli-powered assault rifle being developed to deal with the upcoming zombie apocalypse. Or the continued collaboration with Mr Hoppy as we attempt to stitch up Ivan Dobsky once again. Some of us even have holidays and a general recharge of batteries, those self same batteries that will now start to get very run down for the next 9 months.

And now we’re heading back out, getting ready for another year of repeated assaults on the senses.

So what’s new?

Well, we’ve had a new tunnel built over the last few months. When I say built, I mean we, a group of cack-handed and maladroit buffoons, gathered over the course of two or three sessions and created a magnificent, shiny erection. Much swearing was sweared, many, many insults were bandied about and lots of criticism was directed at the DIY-challenged…but said erection now houses a growing number of plants of varying types, from the milder end of the spectrum to the frankly bloody stupid. And there’s still a lot of space in there for more plants, which we will manage to fill in no time at all.

Another major exercise we undertook over the fallow period was to put down a new floor in our kitchen. Now this might not sound like something that requires much elaboration, but stone me it was a task and a half. We’re not talking about common-or-garden kitchen lino here, this is – as you’d expect – proper industrial kitchen style dimply, grey, tough, unbendy and downright bloody recalcitrant stuff that tested the finest minds of our generation. Well us, at least. We sweated, strained and swore at the damned stuff for the entire duration of the operation and I can safely say that what we have now is grey. And dimply. But it does the kitchen floor thing really, really well and has added an air of much-needed dimpliness to and otherwise two-dimensional floor situation.

On a business footing, we’re trying to turn the Wiltshire Chilli Farm into a classy, well-oiled business machine by having regular meetings and even going so far as to have minutes and actions and all that guff. It’s rather like pushing jelly uphill with a stick, but with exception of the occasional bout of verbal fisticuffs it’s all making progress. There’s far too much to do and we all have these brilliant ideas that sometimes hit the rocks the moment we try to set sail in them, but there are outbreaks of sanity and the odd eureka moment.

One of the things to come out of our brainstorming sessions have been some new product lines – peanuts and biltong. There are two flavours – the lovely moderate smoky Chipotle, and a buttock-clenching Bhut Jolokia for the serious chilli fiends out there. They’re all gert lush as our Bristolian chums would have it, available from all of us itinerant chilli peddlers and of course the online shop.

During one of our meetings we discussed our entire sauce/jam/grinder range, and killed a few off. However, just like a zombie peeping tom, some have magically resurrected themselves and are making a right old nuisance of themselves. It seems that our attempts to kill things off have been scuppered by public opinion – we keep getting orders for products that we try to retire. So I don’t think that anything will ever truly die – but it might only be available online, and then not all the time.

Talking of dying, which is not a pleasant thought at the best of times, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t mention the passing of Leonard Nimoy and Terry Pratchett. As a kid growing up in the 1970s Nimoy was of course a massive part of the Star Trek series that I remember watching, seemingly almost constantly. His passing, although sad to hear about, cannot be said to have been a shock – I seem to recall saying to myself during the JJ Abrams reboot of Star Trek released in 2009 ‘bloody hell, he looks old’. Maybe not that old for a Vulcan, but nothing lasts forever.

Terry Pratchett’s demise was sadder for me, mainly due to the fact that I am a huge fan. I remember buying the first Discworld novel in 1983, whilst I was away at university, and have bought and read everything since. His creations were interesting, deep, though-provoking and in many cases downright absurd – but in every case they made me laugh, and laugh out loud. I have long since lost the paperback copy of The Colour of Magic, but when I saw Sir Terry give a talk in Devizes a few years ago I decided to replace it, so I now have a lovely hardback edition signed by the man himself. I don’t often do the fan-boy thing, but with STP I was prepared to make an exception and join the queue.

The last and hardest passing was a very personal one. One of my cats, Cassie, lost a very brief battle with a catalogue of medical issues, and we had to make the awful decision to let her go. She’s appeared in this blog a few times as she always loved jumping up into my van when I was loading up, but now I’ll just have her brother, Fudge, to fend off – and he’s a lazy git so doesn’t help me load the van often. My reaction to her passing was to descend into a very unbecoming blubbering heap, which really isn’t classy for a hobbit of my advancing years, but luckily I have a teenage daughter that showed me how to behave with a shred of dignity.

That’s enough of the sad stuff, a quick note about events. There are lots of them. And we will be at a goodly number, oh yes we will! We’re fighting a constant battle to get the Wiltshire Chilli Farm’s calendar on the website working properly, so keep checking there – or on the Facebook page, we try to update that regularly as well. Come and find us, try out new stuff, eat some old stuff, regret trying the God Slayer, and have a giggle. We don’t do serious, you know us…

On that note I will close for this week. The plan is that I’ll be updating this on a regular basis from now on – assuming I can find the time – so keep ’em peeled, there will be more random bollocks coming before you know it.

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Posted in Chilli, DEATH, General

Kill the Bublé

Posted on January 3, 2015 | Leave a comment

Well ladies and gentlemen, here we are again. Christmas is over, your friendly neighbourhood hobbit has ended his period of solitary in Salisbury, and a little bit of what passes for sanity has descended upon this small part of the world.

A lot has happened since my last post, pretty much all of it spent at Salisbury Christmas Market. This is how it went.

Day minus 1

Anti-grav is accidentally set to ‘on’ at the Farm

Arrive at WCF and stare at the pile of crates that need to be loaded into the van. Stare at it again. And again. Think of the phrase ‘quart into a pint pot’ and just get on with it. Amazingly it all fits, as well as the tools and shelves that we’ll need.

The van handles somewhat sluggishly once fully loaded. Braking distances now measured in miles, not feet. Driving style amended accordingly. Bends avoided where possible

Day 0 – set-up day

A 4ft teaspoon. Teacup not pictured.

Get to Salisbury early to survey the market, find my chalet OK and attend the traders briefing in the Guildhall. Meet up with Jamie and form a plan of attack for kitting out the chalet; shelves are not an issue, the display table is – Jamie’s preferred option is to construct a table across the front of the chalet and for me to crawl out/in as necessary. I remind him that I am an old git and refuse. Quick trip to B&Q ensues, material bought to construct a counter that can be placed on the veranda and brought in each night. Bond arrives to lend his extensive DIY knowledge, and half a millisecond later is told to shut up. Complete setup of the chalet early evening. Hopes are high.

Day 1 – first day of trading

Arrive early in order to complete the set up and test things out properly. Realise that the counter we built yesterday is not going to be stable enough, so extra bracing is swiftly attached and it seems much better. Even so, it’s not the free-standing triumph I have in my head so I pull it back to rest against the door frame. Seems to be stable enough.

Set up display and start trading, good enough for day 1. Late day today as it’s the lantern parade, don’t finish till 8:30pm. Hopes are high.

Day 2

Decide that the counter is still too wobbly as I have fears my fatness will knock the whole thing over at some point. Further bracing is the only option so construct a very simple yet effective way of doing so – basically a length of wood screwed to counter at one end and door frame at the other. Much more secure.

Trading is good, slightly lower than day 1 but shorter trading hours so still better than anticipated.

Day 3 – first Saturday

The setup is now pretty much defined, and I’m ready to trade bang on 10am when the market starts. Unfortunately customers start milling around at 9:30 as it’s Saturday, but I cope. Trading is epic, never sold as much in one day.

Go home tired but exultant after my best single trading day ever. Beginning to plan for early retirement.

Day 4

Steady today, but after the epicness of Saturday I can cope with this. Get to chat more with my chalet neighbours Heidi, Mo, Camille, Debs, Rachael and Terry and form a support group of bewildered traders.

Music being played in the market is Santa Claus Got Stuck In My Chimney by Ella Fitzgerald. Filthy lyrics. Go on, google ’em. You’ll understand what I mean.

For a ‘short’ days trading takings are awesome, and I get home to my microwave meal happy in the knowledge that I’ve picked a good market.

Day 5

Monday. Urgh, it’s Monday. Things seem really quiet, but after the bedlam that was the weekend I’m happy with that. Gives me a chance to unwind a little.

Chat more with Camille, Rachael and Terry. They all seem to lead much more interesting lives than me, but then I think about my ex-IBM friends who look jealously at what I do now and remember that it’s all relative. I could have been an astronaut you know, I just chose not to.

Godolphin Prep School giving it large, carol stylee

Have time to listen to the music being piped over the speakers today. Realise that Michael Bublé is on repeat. I hate Michael Bublé.

Trading is slow by Christmas standards, but still better than a regular market so very happy.

Day 6

Charter market day. Billions of cheeky cock-er-knees selling watch batteries, dodgy DVDs and dubious pork products in the Market Place. This means a different kind of clientele is around today, lots of single units sold and less box sets. Still, decent numbers so who’s complaining?

A sad day. Today is the funeral of a cricketing friend, and as I cannot be there I put my bat out a la Philip Hughes in his honour. I have to take a moment at the back of the chalet a couple of times during the day.

Am left in the dark – literally – as some of the light bulbs in my chalet decide they’ve had enough and go to sleep. Luckily it wasn’t all of them, so have enough to see what I’m doing for the remainder of the day.

Day 7

Light bulbs procured via the ever-resourceful Mo from Tumi across the way, I can now see what I’m doing. And that is a steady day’s trade. Last 6pm finish today until Sunday. Treat myself to a takeaway in place of a microwave meal.

More Michael Bublé. Kill the Bublé.

Cats rebel against expensive food and decide that Asda own brand is all they will eat, which is a problem as there is no Asda within easy reach of my regular commute.

Day 8

Back to the long trading days, and I’m beginning to feel a little tired. Still, trade is brisk and in fact better than the first Thursday. The war with Winchester is hotting up – am now in a daily contest with Bond to see who sells more.

Day 9

Espresso happens. It’s not something I do much of, as excess caffeine can make me a bit twitchy, but I feel the need. And it works – it wakes me up enough early doors to engage with customers cheerily and get into the swing of things.

Chris Rea is Driving Home For Christmas for the ninth day in a row. Never buy a used sat nav from Chris Rea, it’ll be bloody useless.

Another good day, I am ready for whatever Saturday can throw at me.

Day 10

So many customers…coming at me…coming in from the sun…no time to breathe…you weren’t there, man…

Another busy, busy day, not quite the same as the previous Saturday but excellent nonetheless.

Go home happy but exhausted.

Day 11

A pattern emerges. Sunday’s not quite as good as Saturday, but is still a decent day. Realise with some horror that this market is not even half way through, yet already I could sleep for a week. Start looking at ways to ease the pain by maybe spending a night in Salisbury. Then decide that I’m a skinflint and hotel prices are too expensive.

This is Debs, Rachael and Terry’s last day in the market as they’re only doing the first half. Sad to see them go as they’re been terrific fun.

Day 12

New neighbour Nick moves in. Camille and myself take an instant dislike to him simply for not being Rachael and Debs.

Announce the formation of the Anti-Bublé League.

Quietest day of the market so far. After the chaos of the weekend it feels dead, but numbers at close of play show a decent return.

Half way through. It’s all downhill from here.

Day 13

Another steady day, fuelled almost entirely by espressos and chocolate. Really am beginning to feel the strain now, both physically and mentally. Not just the trading but also the stock collections, the commute and of course the extra trips to Asda to get bloody cat food.

We decide that we’re just going to deal with Nick by taking the p*ss out of him. He responds in kind and is accepted into the support group with open arms.

Day 14

A soggy day in Salisbury. This keeps the customers away, which makes it almost impossible to stay wake. More espresso. More chocolate. Nick starts to show tendencies to leave his stall for a 9-minute wander every 10 minutes.

Plenty of time to do jigsaws

First sub-par result of the market, but given the weather that’s to be expected.

Day 15

The weather’s still not helping us, and keeps the casual punter away. Late trading brings a few more people in and drags figures up to a decent level.

Being exhausted is the default setting now. Am thinking of digging an escape tunnel.

An owl called Bella comes to visit. I don’t think I’m hallucinating, but there is that possibility.

Day 16

Decide against the escape tunnel as I have no energy to dig one.

No sign of the owl.

Steady trading today. After a brief hiatus, Bublé is back. Tensions rise in the hobbit community.

Camille the Dogsnatcher is captured in action.

Day 17

The busy day of the week, and the first signs of panic present-buying behaviour start to emerge. Am introduced to the acronym ‘DLM’ by Heidi – the Desperate Lone Male – often seen at this time of the year. In our case it’s more of a DLS (Desperate Lone Shopper) thing – men are often the quick purchasers, the conversation going like this:

Customer: What’s the hottest thing you have?

Me: Is it for someone who says that nothing’s ever hot enough?

Customer: Yes – I want to see him cry.

One bottle of Slayer later, job done.

Excellent business again, on days like today you get to speak to no-one other than customers, with traders emerging like badgers from their setts in late afternoon to compare notes.

Day 18

Energy levels have plummeted overnight. Am now actively considering faking my own death to avoid the last few days.

Disgruntlement is high, there have been words exchanged between traders and stewards. Tempers are fraying, especially in those of us who are doing every single day. No sign of Stockholm Syndrome here.

Slow, slow day. Batteries fail to recharge. Bublé is on repeat. Not helping. The prospect of four days of 6pm finishes is very welcome though.

How do you get stock to the chalet when there’s a charter market on and you can’t get the van on site? Simple – employ the Hobbit All-Purpose Stock Transport Solution (patent applied for). What d you mean, it looks like a suitcase? This is a highly specialised piece of equipment you know, not just any old piece of kit dragged out of the loft…

Day 19

Energy levels still not high…until lunchtime when I get the news that I have become a Granddad again! Instant happy hobbit syndrome, photos shared with chalet holders and customers alike, can’t get the grin off my face for the rest of the day 🙂

Trading? Who cares? I’m a granddad again!

Day 20

Cheeky Cockney day. Alarming pig products in evidence. Really, really don’t need them yelling 3 fer a paaaaaahnd all day.

Just push through it hobbit, not long to go now.

Finish the day off with a visit to see my new granddaughter. Lifts up my spirits no end 🙂

Day 21

Starting to wonder if this will ever end. What did I do in a previous life to deserve this? Did I volunteer for this? Goddammit, I paid for this! Pull yourself together whinger, just get on with it…

Am now beginning to run low on stock. Starting to shuffle the display round to promote stuff I have most of. Doesn’t work, a very slow day, but it is Wednesday so not surprising really.

3 days to go. Am buoyed by Jamie saying he’d be down on Saturday to help break down.

Day 22

Today I bonked.

And not in a fun, biological, squelching proximity of body parts way either. This is the cycling version of bonking, akin to marathon runners hitting the wall. It’s what happens when you completely run out of energy, and is not the same as being tired. I’ve never really experienced it before, even when running (sort of) the 3 half marathons I’ve done in the past, which were about the most knackering thing I’ve done. I just hit a wall at about 6pm, and couldn’t think, speak or do anything other than just stand up. Camille in the chalet opposite told me that I’d visibly turned into Zombie Hobbit, though I think that’s doing a bit of a disservice to zombies as I think they probably have more energy than I did right then.

A swift ingestion of calories – in the healthy form of Twix bars – helped rectify the situation, though I was still running on fumes for the rest of the day.

Day 23

Penultimate day of the market. Stock is looking patchy, but I’ll have enough to get me to the end. Decent numbers sold, hopeful of reaching my revised target figure for the whole market.

A decent day and we finish up with a support group night out at Anokaa, which is a fantastic Indian restaurant in Fisherton Street. Top, top food – not your normal curry-house fare. Vegetarian Heidi is so baffled by the excellent veggie offerings she asks me – a ravenous carnivore – for help. To be fair, some of the veggie options do look nice. Not nice enough to stop me choosing a fabulous rack of lamb dish, though. We all have great food, great conversation and I get home very, very late, but content.

Day 24 – last day of the market

Get to the market early, as always, though that’s not easy after the late night yesterday. Set up early, ready for the rush, and sure enough for the last Saturday before Christmas there are lots of people about.

More espresso, more chocolate and yes – more Bublé. I thank every deity known to humanity, and quite a few I’ve made up myself just to fill out my own personal pantheon, that I don’t have to listen to him again after today.

I bonk again, shortly after Jamie tells me that he won’t be down to help me break down the chalet. This news drains any scrap of energy I have left. Official close of the market is 7pm, but we’re all ‘tidying’ behind the scenes from about 5 o’clock.

Heidi in her spot

7pm comes and we all get handy with drills, screwdrivers and hammers in dismantling our chalets. Not much stock to pack away, but I have to get a bit primeval on some of the screws as they’re embedded in knots in the wood and simply won’t come out, even with the heavy-duty borrowed drill from Nick next door. Hammer comes to the rescue.

Say emotional goodbyes to Heidi, Camille, Mo and Nick – it’s been a blast and we all promise to be there next year and reform the support group.

And the music playing when I leave is…thankfully not Bublé. That would have been a bit much.

Day 25 – market day + 1

Prize pillock that I am, I’ve agreed to be at Swindon Designer Outlet today. I have bugger all stock and it’s chucking it down. I’m so tired that I completely misjudge things and have a bollard v. van incident. Bollard wins, van loses. Dammit.

Ghost my way through the day and sell a decent number, especially given the weather. Every last box set that I have has sold, I end up with a crate of stock that goes back to the Farm to keep Bath going for the last few days up till Christmas.

And that, folks, is why I wasn’t terribly communicative over December. I have worked out that with travel I was working 90-hour weeks for the duration of the market, and I know that there were times when I unravelled ever so slightly. I did learn a few things though:

– Trading for 25 days in a row is bloody exhausting

– Salisbury likes it’s chilli sauce

– Chris Rea may not yet be home for Christmas

– There is a special place in hell for Michael Bublé

– Salisbury has some cute PCSOs

– It is possible to live for a month on microwave meals and Tesco bargain bin sarnies

– 5pm is Wispa time

And will I do it again? I certainly plan to – I met some lovely people, sold lots of stuff and made it to Christmas more or less sane.

And now…it’s all over – the Festive season, and New Year to boot. That means it must be time for the WCF Christmas Party. Stocks of aspirin have been replenished in preparation.

Normal service will be resumed in the very near future. Whatever normal is.

Welcome to the Year of The Spinning Mouse

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Posted in Chilli, Christmas, General

Tagged Christmas, Salisbury, WCF

March of the Poozers

Posted on November 4, 2014 | Leave a comment

Well, here we are again, only this time it’s distinctly murky.

The clocks have gone back, the nights are well and truly drawing in and – despite one last ridiculously warm Halloween hurrah – we’re all rummaging around in wardrobes for the thermals. I have to confess at this point to being a bit weird and secretly liking long evenings, where I can lower the portcullis, pull up the drawbridge and park myself on the sofa to watch a film or catch up on some reading…all the while attempting to reduce the world’s chocolate supplies. Not every evening, of course, because then you start to go a bit funny in the head through lack of human interaction…but once a week or so it’s sort of pleasant to hide from the world.

Halloween came and went without a single trick or treater knocking on my door. I was at home, but adopted blackout mentality with no lights on – in reality I was working upstairs, as I am now, in the study – but not a single ghoulish child crossed my path. I even had my lollipops ready, just in case! I do have mixed feelings about the whole trick or treat thing…it’s lovely to see little kiddies dress up and have a fun time, but when a surly teenager knocks on your door, mumbling incoherently at you, surely that’s a bit rich. I veer between polar extremes of ‘it’s a lovely dressing-up event for the kiddies’ and ‘ghastly over-hyped American atrocity’ – and advancing years do nothing to change my views. Of course when I were a lad none of this happened – it seems to have ballooned in the 21st century, driven by the crass commercial concerns of corporate retailers desperate to fill an event gap between the summer holidays and Christmas. If I could think of a chilli-related angle on it maybe I might change my views!

Ooh, look what I found in the tunnels

There’s been a lot of stock creation at the Farm over the last few weeks, yet we still don’t think we have enough. Rough calculations (the kind we’re best at) lead us to believe we’re two-thirds of the way to having the right amount, even though we’ve been busy. Of course it’s a good thing if we need that much, but it’s a bit daunting that – despite having more stock than ever – we’re still well short. Of course this is a knock-on from being at so many events, we are victims of our own success, so I’m not complaining. Oh well, another day on the bottling machine beckons tomorrow 🙂

Event-wise it all goes a bit quiet in October. Even those events we do attend are a bit quiet – everyone is keeping their powder dry for the Christmas push, though I did win a frankly mahoosive cake at a WI function last weekend, which was a bit of a Brucie bonus. There are signs that pressie-buying is just about kicking off – even though the number of units we’re selling is pretty stable, what we are selling is veering towards the scary end of the table, a sure sign of gift purchasing going on. The supply of Voodoo Habanero box sets disappeared very quickly, and we’re keenly awaiting delivery of more, along with the new Fatalii sets. The grinder box sets started flying out at the weekend, and I expect the 2-bottle sets will go just as well when we get them in.

2015 is taking shape already. frightening though that is to comprehend. My inbox is burgeoning (yes, burgeoning no less) with mails about events for next year – some of which are repeats, some are new to us, some are completely new events with no history. At some point in January there will be a gloves-off, no-holds-barred bunfight between all the main protagonists to discuss who’s doing what, when and more importantly why. It’s a difficult task, with people having favourite events they want to go to again, some they think we should cover but don’t have the time, manpower or willpower to do, and a few left-field suggestions that hang tantalisingly in the air waiting for someone to take charge. 2014 was difficult to plan, 2015 will – I suspect – be even harder. I’ve learnt a few things this year though – namely, don’t fill in gaps too early, there are always events out there – even if they’re planned in at fairly short notice.

One thing I’m pretty sure about though – I reckon my cricket playing days will be extremely limited again, possibly limited to the point of extinction. That is a real shame, but the bills have to get paid somehow. I’ll try to sneak into a midweek evening game or two, they’re unlikely to impinge on events too much.

Talking of events, we’re at a few this weekend:

Sheffield Global Market – Wednesday to Sunday
Bristol Temple Quay – Thursday
Reading Farmers Market – Friday
Sutton Benger Farmers Market – Saturday
Swindon Designer Outlet Farmers Market – Sunday

Pink Chilli Hobbit will be in Trowbridge as usual this Wednesday at her community market stall, selling all sorts of goodies. At the last count she had 55 samples available for food and cosmetics…I have enough trouble coping with 10 or 12! She’ll also be in Calne this Saturday morning selling chilli stuff, as well as other foodie goodies, so pop along 🙂

Had to drop off a delivery in Broadway (the Worcestershire variety) last week. I may just have stopped for a nice lunch whilst I was there, it’s a lovely place – well worth a visit!

And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I shall sign off for this post.

Have a great week, don’t work too hard, and remember to bow before your Poozonian overlords.

It’s Remembrance Day this Sunday, so spare a moment to think of the fallen from all nations, most especially the conscripts, that fought for their country.

We shall remember them.

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Posted in Chilli, General

Tagged events, Halloween, WCF

Back pressure build up

Posted on October 14, 2014 | Leave a comment

Yes folks, it’s now been a whole year since I was catapulted head-first into the crazy world of chilli peddling. On October 5th 2013 I went to help Jamie at his stall in Devizes, only to be left in charge for the morning in what was to become my first ever trading day. I can well remember the feeling of utter terror that washed over me as our illustrious leader left me to my own devices. Although an enthusiastic fan of the product range I was hardly an expert, but I racked up reasonable sales – and haven’t looked back since.

A lot’s happened since that point, both professionally and personally. I’ve bought two vans, which have occasionally run smoothly. I’ve learned a lot about chillies, though it’s always a work in progress. I’ve been loudly and menacingly accused of blasphemy. I’ve developed a love/hate relationship with a bottling machine. I’ve become known as the most irritatingly organised stall holder at a number of markets. I’ve become a committee member of the Wiltshire Farmers Market Association. I’ve been wet, cold and miserable on any number of occasions. I’ve been hot, sweaty and bothered on any number of occasions. I’ve had to embrace Christmas enthusiastically. I’ve adopted market trader cheeky chappie as my language of choice on school days. I’ve met Boris Johnson. I’ve met the father of the lead singer of one of my favourite bands.

I’ve met all manner of customer, the vast majority of which are delightful, or at least harmless. I’ve developed a Spotter’s Guide…

The Professional You can see them a mile off. They have the fixed stare of an addict, and they are making a bee-line for the stall, cutting across traffic flow and almost always heading to the hot end of the table. Usually under 40, very often male, keen to find something new. Not always the best buyers as they have cupboards full of the stuff (often our products).

The Interested Amateur These are customers that like a bit of spice in their life, but aren’t sure if they can do the really hot stuff. Often enthusiastic fans of our jams and Mango sauce, they don’t often go for the really hot ones but might try them for a giggle.

The What Have You Got Here’s? Not chilli fans – yet. Are the sort of person you like to see at events – they’re going to try a few things and see if they like it. Usually go away with a milder jam or one of the less challenging sauces, but are occasionally lured into buying a hot one.

The Free Luncher Come along and try everything, often so quickly that they can’t possibly be tasting anything. They’ll have been spotted walking past the cheese stall, not breaking stride as they scoop up handfuls of samples for a free feed. They are the main reason why we don’t use crackers for samples any more.

The I Don’t Like Chilli Can be further subdivided into:

The Face-Screwer-Uppers – look like a bulldog chewing a wasp as soon as they get within ten feet of the stall. Are keen to tell you what damage chillies do to their digestive tract, often at length, and quite graphically.

The I Once Had An Experience – have based all their knowledge of spicy food on having eaten a dodgy Vesta curry forty years ago, and have had nothing hotter than a korma since. Scarred for life, they refuse to countenance anything exotic. Probably vote UKIP.

The Will Try But… – can be lured into trying something (usually Sweet Chilli Sauce) then run around like someone’s set fire to their tongue. At least they’ve had a go, bless ’em.

The Can Be Persuaded – although they say they don’t like chillies, they’ll then agree that they do like sweet chilli sauce…and once they try ours you have them on the hook.

The Gift Buyer – seen a lot at this time of year. Don’t do chillies themselves but are looking for presents for the family and friends. Quite often go away with a product with a silly name (Bunny Burner, Hellmouth etc).

The Kids Again, several categories:

The I Can Outdo My Dad – will try the hottest thing on the table and stand there getting redder and redder whilst claiming that they like it. Often accompanied by tears.

The I Can Take Anything – occasionally spotted, indestructible children for whom nothing is hot enough. Fear them.

The Lovely Children – the ones that you persuade to try Sweet Chilli or Habanero Gold who give a lovely beaming smile when they actually like it. Often followed by excitable jumping up and down and persuasion of Mummy/Daddy to buy it pleeeeeeeeeeeease…

The Criers – persuaded by parents to try something a little too hot, will burst into tears. Another good reason to have lollipops on the stall.

The Lad All swagger and attitude, often approach with a bunch of mates and keen to show off. ‘What’s the hottest you have’ is the question. One application of God Slayer later and they’ve gone surprisingly quiet and their ears have gone purple. Swearing often ensues. They then buy a God Slayer to take down the pub.

The Frightened Rabbit An odd one, this. They come up to the stall, start to look at the display, but if you speak to them they startle and run away. Stallholder left in bemusement and checking to see if he’s applied deodorant that morning.

The Arm Folder Stand five feet from the stall, arms folded in a very defensive pose. Refuse all entreaties to get closer and don’t make eye contact. Bizarre.

The Huggers They’re bumped into their bestie at the market and decide to catch up on how Auntie Ida is, whether little Jack/Lily has started pre-school yet, or how fantastic their villa holiday to the Dordogne was…all this taking place directly in front of the stall, blocking access to other customers. They are utterly oblivious and often find themselves being forcibly given samples on sticks just to remind them that they’re in the bloody way.

The Chilli Salt Convert Don’t like chilli sauces, but will taste the Chipotle Chilli Salt, and once they’re done that they’re the biggest fan ever. Often go away with one for their Mum/Dad/mate as well.

The I’ll Have One Of Each Still waiting to meet this person. One day, one day…

I’m sure there are many more…every market throws up another personality, another type of shopper, another mystery for us to unravel. It’s what makes it fun, trying to work out which category each person fits into.

On the product front we’ve cooked a lot lately – partly because we need the stock for the Christmas rush, partly because there’s a whole lot of chilli picking going on and we don’t have freezer space for everything – we just cook ’em straight away. That means we have the annual special edition box sets out. This year sees a reappearance of the Voodoo Habanero set – Fruit Burst, Peach Habanero and Chocolate Habanero – which is already proving very popular. We’re also producing a Fatalii set – with yellow and white Fatalii sauces. We’re the only farm in the world to be growing the white fatalii chilli on a commercial scale, so we thought we’d better do something with it! The white Fatalii sauce is made with pears, so a little less sharp than the yellow Fatalii and it’s lemony twang, but they complement each other beautifully. The fatalii set will be available in a few weeks, but orders being taken now 🙂

Of course we’ve reached the time of the year when standing outside selling stuff is getting colder and wetter, but we’re still flat out on the event front. I’ve been to Salisbury, which was good practice for my extended stay there later in the year; a new farmer’s market opened at Sutton Benger, near Chippenham – a lovely little village, with great support from the landlord of the Bell House Hotel, whose car park we used, made it a very successful event; Pink Chilli Hobbit has started running a department store under a gazebo – lots of different products, including chilli stuff, all at one stall! She’s doing a great job at combining a number of different lines in one place…it certainly adds flavour to markets where the producers don’t see benefit of going individually, but a bit of everything all adds up to a worthwhile venture.

Less of the big events in October, but plenty of regular markets to keep us busy. This coming weekend we’re in Leicester, Reading, Gloucester, Swindon, Bath and Oxford. We soon descend headlong into full-blown Christmas mode, so expect the Bah Humbug hat to make a reappearance!

That’s all for this week. Keep the faith, clunk click every trip and toss me a droob.

Nights are drawing in

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Posted in Chilli, General

Tagged markets, WCF

Rubber dinghy rapids

Posted on September 30, 2014 | Leave a comment

It’s been a couple of weeks since my last post, mainly as I’ve not had masses to waflle about. I thought I’d save up my random ramblings until I can pad them out a bit 🙂

Though I have little to waffle about, it’s all go at WCF Central. We’ve been cooking furiously (mainly furious when the bottling machine has a spitty fit…thank you Hellmouth) so we now have more stock in place than ever before. Its’ causing us a bit of a headache, what with the need for a national crate mountain, but it puts us in a decent position in the headlong rush towards Christmas. I know it’s still only just autumn, but us trading wallahs have to be ahead of the curve, otherwise there’s a danger of us getting caught with our trousers down if something unexpected happens. A good productive day can see over 3,000 units produced without having to work till midnight – we’re getting good at this efficiency lark, you know. Bond will claim it’s all down to his ‘floating’ role as Efficiency Bitch – soaking up all the odd jobs that sometimes get in the way of smooth running – but for the most part it’s down to good planning and days of monster batches in the big cooker. They’re a pain to prepare for, but once cooked it’s just a case of bottle, bottle, bottle till you get bored of hitting the pedal. Needs must though, we need the stock, and we have a lot more days like that to be prepared.

On the trading front it all goes a bit quieter at this time of year. Yes, there are still plenty of markets and festivals, but the monsters of the summer are gone and everyone’s focussed on the upcoming horror that is the festive season. Since my last update I’ve been to Reading, Gloucester, Tetbury, Royal Wootton Bassett and Wroughton – mostly places I’ve been to before, although the day in Wroughton was unusual. I was asked to give a presentation to the Wiltshire WI for their Produce Day, which was fun. I suspect the average age of the audience was the wrong side of 70, and the average natural hip quota significantly less than 2, but they all listened attentively to the producers there on the day, and asked plenty of questions – thankfully no difficult ones – not to me. anyway 🙂 I’ve been asked back to give a similar presentation at their anniversary event next April, so I can’t have scared them too much with my Don Estelle shorts and tales of incinerating potential Prime Ministers!

I’ve had a bit of a weekend off before that, taking a Sunday off to head to Wembley for an NFL game. Now I know it’s still fairly new to the UK and so it’s a bit of a novelty, but it’s so much fun going to one of these games – the glitz, the glamour, the cheerleaders, the vastly overpriced pretend food, the cattle market that is Wembley Stadium Station afterwards…it’s not like that at the County Ground, I can tell you. And you certainly don’t get Def Leppard as pre-match entertainment at Swindon, though many would say they’re glad of that.

On a totally separate subject, something caught my eye today, and frankly I’m baffled. I followed a brand spanking new Fiat 500 through Devizes, and I’m sure the owner is really, really proud of her shiny new toy…but why in the FSM’s name did she choose beige as the colour? Now we all have our preferences. I realise this. I seem to have developed a preference for loud colours recently that can leave your retinas in a state of shock. But beige? For a car? A little research leads me to believe it’s actually a colour they call ‘New Age Cream’. Seriously, what the hell’s that all about? It’s beige, people! Eeeeuw.

Since my last post one of the most important decisions in British politics ever has been taken, with the result of Scotland’s independence referendum. The result was, of course, the safe option of the status quo – one I think is probably the best for Scotland – but it does lead me to believe that far from it being decisive, we’re just going to have to go round the loop all over again in a few years until they get the answer the nationalists want. I think, by the time voting day had come round, everyone in England was utterly sick of Alex Salmond’s weaselly fizzog appearing on every screen, and if the English had had a vote we’d had voted a resounding Yes just to get rid of the bugger. A really vindictive part of me would have loved to have seen a Yes vote win out, just to see how an economy built on shortbread and little drummer girls in plastic tubes would actually work in the real world. However we’re all still one big happy family, but just wait till Andy Murray wants a big cheer at Wimbledon next year…I think he’ll find a few less supporters next time round!

I was going to buy these but they were two deer

A busy few days coming up – cooking at the farm followed by days trading in Temple Quay (Bristol), Salisbury, Devizes and Frome. The Pink Chilli Hobbit will be in Marlborough on Sunday, and the WCF Massive will also be in Neath, Reading, Petersfield, Oxford, Bath and of course Swindon. We’re always in Swindon. We try to leave, but just like Number 6 in The Prisoner, we get caught by the balls and dragged back. Oh…sorry…caught by one big ball. My bad.

That’s all for this week folks, apart from one very important question. Take a look at the poster below, spotted in a local health food establishment. WTF?

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Posted in Chilli, General

Tagged Pink Chilli Hobbit, Salisbury, Swindon, WCF

Another promising career cut short

Posted on September 15, 2014 | Leave a comment

Goddammit, I’ve been sacked. Again.

This morning I received a rather peremptory e-mail from HR informing me that as I had contravened a number of company directives my contract had been terminated with immediate effect. The final warning that was issued to me earlier this month had gone unanswered, and therefore I was cut loose, cast off, and sent packing. Of course should I wish to appeal I could open the interestingly peculiar attachment to the e-mail and appeal against the decision.

Needless to say there was a heavy whiff of spam about the whole affair, not the least of which was the fact that the mail was signed by Quinn Schneekloth. What, the Quinn Schneekloth, I hear you ask? What a fantastic made-up name…if you’re going to try to ensnare unsuspecting victims in a viral scam then you may at least go the whole 9 yards and adopt the most preposterous name going. And as I had never heard of the company I was being fired from, I took the news of my demise quite calmly, really…

What do you mean, wrong type of Bond girl?

On the subject of unusual names I came across a wonderful suggestion for a Bond girl on some hand wash earlier (what is it with me and hand wash lately?). The flavour of hand wash in question was Geranium Goodness, and it just sounded to me like a 1960’s big-boobed stereotype being seduced by 007’s latest Q-powered sex gadget as the camera panned away to a tropical island paradise vista…

So I’m not going to waffle on at length this week, for a number of reasons. There’s a heck of a lot going on, but it’s all a bit swan-like right now – all serene on the surface whilst paddling like buggery under the waves. Markets are happening of course, and cooking is a staple of the week’s activities, but nothing earth-shattering has happened since my last missive. OK, John Cleese did pop along to the Chilli Hut at the weekend and buy Simon’s last Chocolate Habanero, but without the silly walk he just a customer, albeit a very tall one.

I’ve been to Sherston and Bristol’s Tobacco Factory, where the public were as always very pleasant, and the Pink Chilli Hobbit has been to Avebury, where the locals were largely sheep.

Christmas looms large on the horizon. Normally this fills me with humbug-style fear and loathing, but 2014 sees me looking forward to the busiest time of the year with a bizarre sense of anticipation. It’s going to be oh so busy, and I fully expect to be sick of the sight of our stuff by the time the festive season is over, but we’ll be looking to work ourselves into an exhausted stupor so that we can slump over our Christmas turkey with a sense of pride and achievement.

We have to cook a proverbial – actually, literal – shed-load of stock before then, so I’ll have to get my bottling mojo on soon. Jamie’s putting a schedule together which will allow us a few minutes between shifts to snatch a few Z’s…and somewhen before then we have a lot of chillies to pick. Sleep’s overrated, I’m being told.

I took a bit of time off last Friday to watch a bunch of thin blokes on wheels whizz by. The Tour of Britain wended it’s way through Devizes, so I took a walk up to Monument Hill, about a mile and a half from home, to watch the spectacle. It was all over in a flash, as the 100+ riders hoofed past at some considerable speed…even in two groups split by a couple of minutes it was all done and dusted in no time at all. I was really impressed by the organisation of it all though…there were a huge number of bike cops speeding ahead of the peloton to stop traffic. When you think about the logistics of the event it’s amazing how well it all works, but blink and you’ll miss it – it’s all over so quickly (where have I heard that before?). Still, it was a nice walk, even if I did somehow manage to walk past the pub on the way home without stopping. Must…try…harder.

And you know what folks? That’s going to be it for this week, short and sharp. We have a busy week of cooking ahead, and you can find me in Reading and Gloucester peddling chilli goodness this weekend. The Pink Chilli Hobbit is running her own stall in Trowbridge on Wednesday which sells WCF stuff…and we’re out and about in Birmingham, Abergavenny, Clumber Park, Salisbury, Bath, Oxford and Tetbury as well. I’m not quite sure where I am on Sunday yet. Might be Swindon. Might be Tetbury. Might be giants. Make a little birdhouse in your soul.

Yellow, furry, and in my Mum’s garden

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Posted in Chilli, Cycling, General

Tagged Bristol, Pink Chilli Hobbit, Sherston, WCF

Invigorated hands

Posted on September 10, 2014 | Leave a comment

Well hello again, it’s been a while.

A full three weeks has come and gone since my last post, what with being so busy and all. This time of year is rammed full of festivals, food shows, bank holiday events and all manner of summer shenanigans – the practical upshot being that I’ve been so busy selling/cooking/bottling/labelling/having a bit of a lie down that the blog ha remained completely untended. You have my apologies, I know that you are all sat waiting, precariously perched edge-of-the-seat style, finger-bitingly anxious to hear what the Chilli Hobbit has been up to lately. Or not. Maybe the latter.

Biggest news of the last few weeks was the visit of the Mayor of London, Boris Johnson, to the Farm. Local prospective Conservative candidate Michelle Donelan, who we have met before, had arranged for Boris to visit Wiltshire to champion what’s going on in our lovely county. Now as a serial chilli fan she chose us to represent the small business community, so we hastily arranged a bit of a tour of the facilities for Mr Mayor and his mad hair. Now we all know Boris is up for a giggle, but little were we to know he was going to take a big bite out of the chocolate habanero that he’d just picked in one of our tunnels. Now for the uninitiated, these are pretty damned hot – hot enough to stop a man who many are calling a future Prime Minister from being able to speak. A politician lost for words? You’d better believe it. A swift can of sugary, fizzy stuff was procured to allow him to cool his gums before we could progress with the rest of the tour, but he now knows we mean business! After the polytunnel he was given a tour of the kitchen, and then of a market stall we had set up for the occasion, where he was interviewed by the local BBC news – who incidentally weren’t interested in local business, they just assaulted him with questions about UKIP and the general election.

Now those of you that read my blog will know that I’m no lover of politics, or politicians. But Boris came across as being – well, Boris. No pre-prepared oily, slick responses to questions. No twisting the conversation to national issues when asked about local stuff – in fact, he dragged conversations back to the importance of local business when reporters insisted on asking about national stuff. He shook everyone’s hand on arrival, even the press. He just seemed to be exactly what you expect, no more, no less. I may not agree with his policies, and as a voter I am unlikely to put a big fat X in his box, but as a person I think he’s pretty genuine.

And of course Michelle keeps supporting local businesses – I read her articles in the local press, and it’s all I ever ask of our elected representatives to support their constituents. If they do that, they’re all right with me. All in all a really good bit of publicity for the Farm. We got in to the national papers, Facebook went a bit nuts the morning after, and we all got shiny new polo shirts to smarten ourselves up with! And we didn’t say the word ‘airport’ once…

So, what else has happened? In no particular order of importance I have been to:

Westonbirt
Potterne
Reading
Swindon
Bristol
Ascot
Frome

Now, I hear you all cry in unison, did anything interesting happen at any of these events? Of course I met lots and lots of lovely people, and sold lots and lots of lovely stuff, but what was noteworthy…? Westonbirt was a 3-day event – Treefest – in amongst the loveliness that is the Arboretum. It was a really nice event, although the Monday was blighted with utterly dismal weather. The forecast was 100% correct that weekend, so I knew it would be, and took a good book to fill in the blank spaces between customers. I’m not the sort to sit on my haunches whilst selling, preferring to be scanning the pack like a hungry lion looking for the kill, but when it’s bucketing down you have to keep yourself sane, and if that means a bit of Terry Pratchett then so be it.

Unfortunately the event shall be forever memorable to yours truly for the hair-raising drive home. I packed up the van as usual, jumped in and pulled away, only to realise that I had no power steering. Now this is not a disaster, just a case of driving more carefully than usual as quick directional changes were simply out of the question in a van loaded up with gazebo, stock and a fat biffer in the driver’s seat. But what transpired was that it wasn’t just a power steering issue. The serpentine belt that connect loads of gubbins (that’s a technical term, people) under the bonnet had snapped, thus robbing the Silver Machine of its ability to top up the electrics. So, on the drive home, I was treated to a catastrophic failure of pretty much every piece of electrical equipment the van possessed. So first, as I said, the power steering went. Followed by the CD player. Followed by ABS. Followed by the wipers only just creeping across the windscreen. Alarm bells were going off left, right and centre with warnings coming up to tell me to STOP NOW OR THE VAN WILL EXPLODE, or something like that anyway. But I knew that if I stopped I’d never start again, so I limped home – with the engine stalling on me a couple of times and only restarting through a momentum-based jump start – in murky, rainy conditions. I have never been more relieved and surprised to make it home in one piece.

However it didn’t quite end there. I somehow managed to reverse on to the drive (knowing I’d have to unload fully and send the van off to mechanic cousin Alan and his big bag of spanners), turned the engine off and unclenched. Then tried to open the door. Now of course, like all modern cars, my central locking engages when I pull away. So the doors had locked in Westonbirt, and now staunchly stayed that way as there was no battery power to unlock them. Locked in. OK, I thought, wind the window down. But I have electric windows. Still no battery power. Bugger, I thought, or words to that effect. So there I sat, relieved to have made it home…but locked in my own van, with now way of getting out! Now I’m not particularly claustrophobic but the thought of being in there for some time was making me a smidge anxious. I tried once again to unlock the doors and voila! there was just enough juice left to do the job…to a huge sigh of relief.

So eventually the van got repaired, although it’s now at the body shop having its door fixed after the villainous exploits of Nottingham’s outlaws that I reported last time round. To be fair it has been quite a giggle leaping in through the passenger side Dukes of Hazzard fashion, but as Catherine Bach has remained stubbornly elusive I’ve bored of it pretty quickly.

My trip to Potterne was to run a chilli eating contest at the cricket club‘s annual Beer and Cider Festival. Now Potterne is my home village, and I have played cricket for the club since 1978, so I was really looking forward to the day. I struggled to drum up support for the contest early doors, but as I suspected once the beer took affect, so the volunteers came, and by contest time I was actually turning people away. I’d never run one of these contests before, and I’m naturally quite reserved and shy (really, I am) so the thought of wandering round in front of an audience (which included my Mum) both running and commentating on a chill eating contest was – to say the least – nerve-wracking. But cometh the hour, cometh the hobbit and I simply engaged bulls**t mode and went for it. It was a very entertaining interlude…there were tears…there was swearing…there was a little bit of sick…and a bit of flashing…but all in all it went very well. The pre-match favourite Edgar won convincingly, with the scotch bonnet round getting all the other contestants running for the hedges at a speed that belied the amount of booze sloshing around their systems. I was a bit naughty and got the crowd to encourage Edgar to jump straight to the peach bhut jolokia – the ultimate weapon in this contest – which he ate, though I think he regretted it afterwards! I really enjoyed doing the contest, and look forward to the next one.

Thanks to Bloc from the club for all the chilli eating contest photos.

The winner

Not the winner

The other ‘first’ for me was a trip to the races at Ascot. Not for the racing, but to take part in the Festival of Food and Wine, which was on a glorious day last weekend. I’m not a horsey type, and apart from the National Lottery I don’t gamble, so a day at the races isn’t something that’s ever appealed, but it was an interesting experience. It was really busy, everyone seemed to having a good time, and what struck me was how much everyone dressed up for the occasion – especially the ladies. Some interesting hats were on display, some of which could only be called hats due to their heady location…but that’s fashion for you I guess – I’m not one to criticise, what with my Don Estelle shorts and 3-for-£15 t-shirts. But really…something that looks like half a giant Rolo with a flower stuck in it? A hat?

The rhythm of the day was interesting. Most markets and festivals start slow, pick up through the middle, then die at the end. This – being a race day – was slow at the start, picked up massively before the first race, then was steady all the way till the end – apart from when the races were on when everyone disappeared! I soon got the hang of it, when the race bell went I knew I had a five minute break whilst the punters cheered on their chosen equine quadruped carrying a tiny man in pyjamas, then they all came rushing back. A great event though, the Ascot staff were really helpful and friendly and made sure the traders were looked after. I like that 🙂

So I think I’ve waffled enough for one week, now that the lunacy of the last few weeks has died down I’ll be back to weekly updates. You have been warned.

This weekend sees me in Sherston and Bristol’s Tobacco Factory. with the Pink Chilli Hobbit in Avebury and Chippenham. You can also find us in Frome at the Cheese Show, the Holker Chilli Festival and our usual haunts in Swindon Designer Outlet, Bath Union Street and the Chilli Hut in Green Park, Gloucester Green and Summertown Market in Oxford, and Reading Farmers Market. We were due to be at Potterne Food Festival, but sadly the event has been cancelled.

Thought for the day: why is the hand wash I’ve just bought say that it’s invigorating? Do I need invigorated hands?

It is well known that a vital ingredient to success is not knowing that what you’re attempting can’t be done

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Posted in Chilli, General

Tagged Ascot, Boris, Boris Johnson, chilli eating contest, Treefest, WCF

Rage Against The Machine

Posted on August 11, 2014 | Leave a comment

If you’ll excuse the double entendre, it won’t be a long one today. That’s partly because (a) I’m tired, (b) I’m late starting this today, and (c) it’s been a relatively quiet week at TCH Towers.

Bertha

Not Bertha

When I peruse my work schedule I often scare myself with the daft trips I plan…the recent bounce around England via all points motorway-shaped being a case in point. So this weekend I had a short markets in Bristol, Sherston and Swindon – and it almost felt like a weekend off. Pleasant enough events, steady trade, weather was OK (despite the horror stories put out by the BBC’s weather doom-mongers about Hurricane Bertha) and I got to Monday without feeling like I’ve been to the moon and back. The other chilliwallahs were in far-flung outposts of Empire (Chichester and Edinburgh for example) – but this time I got to sleep in my own bed for the weekend and the cats haven’t disowned me for desertion. Of course it won’t last, I’m off on my travels again this weekend.

I even got to see Swindon Town play on Saturday – that’s a real rarity in August as I usually play cricket, but with the change in emphasis this year I made the most of working a local market to get to the County Ground in time. It was worth it as well, an opening day win in the sunshine…the defence still looks as watertight as a sponge, but hey – if they score 4, we’ll score 5. It’ll be entertaining, if nothing else.

So is there anything of real import to tell you? Well, not really. I did make the cover of a local magazine, but apart from that, not a lot. No rants this time round. No tales of Fawltyesque hotel stays. No Biblical deluges. No giant wasps causing havoc and carrying small children away. No exotic locations. In fact, I think the only other thing to mention is a minor triumph against one of the banes of modern existence – the traffic camera. You see, I managed to pick up a ticket a few weeks back by transgressing into a bus lane in Reading. Now I’m normally pretty good with these things and it was entirely accidental, but I thought I’d take it on the chins and pay up…until I looked carefully at the photo on the penalty notice. I spotted a reason to appeal, and to cut a long story short, the appeal was upheld. It’s probably a damning indictment into the banality of my existence that this is worthy of a momentary whoop of triumph, but hey – whoop! That’s one less bill to pay 🙂

On the chilli product front we’ve just brought out our grinder sets – these look fab and will make brilliant Christmas pressies for the chilli fan in your family. Come and find us wherever we are and we’ll gladly relieve you of some hard-earned cash. Nothing new there, of course…

So what’s on this week then? Well, a couple of days cooking, a Farmers Market Association meeting, an attempt at some down time on Thursday (like that’s going to happen) and then off to Nottingham on Friday for a food festival in Wollaton Park. It’s a part of the world I have never visited, so I fully expect to find everyone dressed in Sherwood Green and carrying a bow and arrow. Stands to reason, really. The Pink Chilli Hobbit will be holding up the Wiltshire fort as always, at the Wanborough Show on Saturday, and Swindon Designer Outlet on Sunday.

And that folks is that. Told you that, like myself, it would be short and sweet this week!

Sometimes it’s better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness

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Posted in Chilli, Football, General

Tagged Pink Chilli Hobbit, STFC, WCF

Category Archives: Chilli

Whither Poldark?

Dammit, Janet

Blinking into the daylight

Kill the Bublé

March of the Poozers

Back pressure build up

Rubber dinghy rapids

Another promising career cut short

Invigorated hands

Rage Against The Machine

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