I've spent the last 48 hours down in deepest, meanest East Sussex with
Bird and a few, choice tools. We were at
Moonhill Farm decommissioning our new (second hand) brewery with a view to lifting it out tomorrow and shipping it by road (convoy - really!) to Ramsgate in two stages, starting Monday. Under pressure and cold to the bone (4 below today) the hard, physical graft of wielding heavy hammers, spanners and pipe-wrenches has taken its toll: I'm at that close-to-tears exhaustion stage, ready to weep for Kent but for the tiny remaining amount of man-pride. Bird was a Colossus, I'd be in the mire without him (he may be a web developer now but it was his rusty, old mining engineering skills, character and strength I employed).
Back down tomorrow. Hot food and the warm comfort of family tonight.
The malt shovel, left behind by its former masters to stay with its mash tun partner. Though I have one, I'll bring this one along and mine can stay with *its* mash tun. Well, who am I to split them up?
1 comment:
you cant split them up that would be so cruel. Good luck with getting it all back and set up and a very very happy new year
Post a Comment