Stop the presses! Hold the phone! Get very very excited! Tom L is making blackberry jelly.
Now I know that to most of you this is not exactly earth shattering news, but you have NOT had Tom L’s blackberry jelly. Superlatives fail when confronted with with his blackberry jelly. They crawl off into corners and whimper, and examine themselves for some possibility of expressing the joy, the delight, the marvel, of tasting autumn’s bounty in the dead of winter. With a little bit of butter, on a big slab o toast. While listening to cars skid in the alleyway. All those scratches on Peggy’s arms have been transmuted into a substance which is addictive in the nicest possible way. And neener neener boo boo to you, folks, because this nectar, this soma, this evidence that our redeemer liveth, will be available only at the craft fair at church on December 5th (12 pm 1200 Place Maillardville), and if you aren’t there, well it’s your sorrow and lack and woe.
If you come for a visit and you are particularly nice to me I may break out a jar in your honour.
I will be buying some for me and some for my esteemed pater. Hey pOp, you know what you’re getting for Christmas? As many jars as I can afford. And I know that you will have a carefully metered teaspoon of it every day until it is gone. I’ll dance upon dishes, I’ll trip upon trenchers (to quote Dunnett, quoting some Scots poet) it is now perfect day!