I'm not dead

It's all been a bit quiet from me recently. Fear not, I'm not dead, just been a little bit undead.



Mrsslippy and I have been away again to another WiFi notspot - this time the depths of rural Norfolk, with the reason being a weekend break with friends, which me and 'teh Mrs' extended into a full week.

Katieluv found us a lovely old building that was more than ample for the dozen of us that were there for the weekend, and mahoosive when it was just the two of us.

A 3 hour 75 mile drive on a cold damp Friday evening, which was repeated as a 3 hour round trip on Saturday morning when I realised I'd forgotten my manbag containing my ipod, without which would mean that not only would there been no playlist for the main event of the weekend, a spooky Halloween party, but we'd also be forced to watch just terrestrial TV for the rest of the week, rather than hooking up the poddage to the TV to watch Frisky Dingo.

Theme for Halloween was 'things that scare you'.

Being as the only things I believe I am irrationally scared of are balloons and heights (and it's not too irrational to worry about falling to your death), and I though both were rather impractical costumes, I went for the next best thing.

Contact lenses.

I hate them.

Fortunately I don't need glasses, so had never tried them, but the sight of Mrsslippy poking things in her eyes makes my stomach churn.

So when I found that I could buy them online, it didn't take me long to decided that I would be a zombie.

Bringing up the courage to put them in took slightly longer.........

Choosing a night where Mrsslippy was at work gave me all the time in the world to dither and blink and drop and cringe as I tried to do the most wrong thing in the world - poke myself in the eye with a bit of plastic stuck to the end of my finger.

And that was the easy bit. After 30 mins of blinking it off my finger every time it came to within an inch of my eye they were in. Then I had to get them out. I've never seen Mrsslippy doing it by leaning forward and slapping the back of her head, but having realised that the alternative I faced was going to have to actually pinch my eyeball, it had to be worth a try.

Didn't work - and another 20 minutes later they were out. I could do it.

Next preparation for Halloween was a 'flavoured vodka'. I was aware that people had previously dissolved cola cubes, jelly babies and such like in bottles for such occasions, but had never read anywhere in the rules that said they had to be sweets.

Because I'm a savoury type of guy.

So what could I put in my vodka?

What's really tasty and different?

What's my favourite food?

Of course.....


Bacon.

Bacon Vodka.

Could it be done?

Well according to the internet, it can.

I found a blog with instructions , and even a company that sells the stuff in America. So it can be made, and it can be drunk.

I fried my bacon and crammed it into a kilner jar and covered it with vodka. Within a couple of hours the fat had set on the top, and the vodka looked like heavily infected urine with chunks of dead flesh in it.

Nice.

Three weeks later, I passed it through a sieve, and it now just looked like fatty pus-ridden piss. Not disheartened yet, I carried on with the instructions, and put it in the freezer so all the fat would clump together, and I could poor it through a coffee filter to make a relatively clear liquid.

To filters later I had it. Slightly yellow in colour, but no bits, no sediment, and a very unsettling smell.

We had 10 different bottles to sample. It was going to be a messy night.

To be honest, mine wasn't too well received. In fairness, both the blog and the manufacturer of the Bakon Vodka never suggested that you drank it neat, but that it went very well in a Bloody Mary. On it's own, it was Bloody Awful.

Best vodka of the night went to Lizzie with her Mars Bar vodka, which was an absolute joy to drink, although I also enjoyed Garys liquorice, and Mrsslippys After Eight.

Best costume of the night went to Mrsslippy for her scarecrow.

The full photoset is currently slideshowing on this page, or can be here or here in hi-res.

But the most terrifying thing of the weekend?

The contents of Gingerfecks digestive tract. Poor fucker retired to his bed within minutes of arriving on Saturday morning having been bad both ends, and didn't reappear until Sunday morning.

Pure evil - probably picked up from his sisters kids that were over visiting.

Children - now they are fucking scary....


p.s. - I still have some vodka left.Any takers?