The daily grind of de-pitting paid of.
Bob likes to frequent the Fisherman's Club House most Sunday mornings, along with a lot of his fire department buddies. Men only and that alone can make us women imagine a lot of the sentences being banded about:
" Can you believe that she ...?"
" Did you see the soccer match last night? "
" What do you think of this car? "
The funny thing is, that come noon, most of them rush off home as their wives are cooking a warm Sunday lunch. Roasts and the whole hog so to say. The Sunday lunch at home is sacrosanct and pity the fool who defies it...
Anyway, a week ago Bob was boasting about his own homemade Schnapps whereupon they asked him why he didn't bring it along. Fast forward to yesterday and Bob took a bottle of his Plum Schnapps. The plums from our garden, untouched by anything other than nature and lovingly de-pitted and stirred daily until it was time to be burned.
Well, at noon (!) Bob came home all excited and without his bottle of Schnapps. He told me that everyone tried a tot, not expecting too much. Until they took their first sip. They were pleasantly surprised at the smoothness and tastiness of Bob's Schnapps. Bob was pleased as punch when they all wanted seconds. In fact, one guy liked it so much, that Bob gave him the rest of the bottle to take home.
Bob is taking to life in Burgenland like a duck to water embracing it to the fullest. Making Schnapps, making jams and making good friends. When he was back in South Africa to see his family and friends, I think they were all secretly in awe at how much Bob has accomplished. He took a few bottles of his creations along as presents, and hopefully the lucky few will learn to savour them.
Biggi
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