I hope her feet are clean.
Hang about! Don't we have enough platforms on which dumbed-out teenagers, preppy pouty princesses, pissed off pseudo-intellectuals, crusty conspiracy theorists, and self-centred spammers can assault us with cute pictures of pugs, aggressive one-sided rhetoric and woeful spelling?
What do we need yet another for? Is it punishment for ending sentences on prepositions?
Or are people that desperate for a new background on their screen?
I'll tell you a secret...
The vine has been responsible for social networking for thousands of years. Yes, ladies and gentleworms, good old fashioned wine has been the social lubricant of choice for so long, it may as well be considered as old as mankind itself. This probably also accounts for an entire history strewn with poor decisions and worse consequences.
But enough about all the agricultural attempts by my predecessors, we're here to discuss my latest venture. For years I have wanted to make a bottle of wine on my own. From grapes I grew myself. This is unfortunately inordinately difficult to do when one owns a thin strip of backyard in urban purgatory.
Enter Slappy, who has some land just lying around in Constantia...
I now have a partner. We are going to make wine fit for the highest choir of angels, nay, the Gods themselves! After some careful planning and calculation, we embarked on this ever-so-exciting venture on Sunday when we erected the first half of our very small vineyard's trellises. The day after the Sepultura gig. In the sun. With a hangover. I've probably never worked that hard in my life. A farmer's life? Ha! You can keep that shit. But the results will be glorious! With probably a hint of plum and spices.
I'm going to use this here wee virtual soapbox of mine to keep you updated with the odd picture and accompanying anecdote. Vines go in this weekend. With any luck, I won't feel as close to death's door as I was on Sunday.
I hope you enjoy looking at these few pictures of the fruits of my labour as much as I hope to enjoy drinking them one day.
NGDG: You know you've had a wild weekend when your fridge is still full of all the beer you bought for chillax downtime.
Spread The Love. Sowing The Seeds.