Whatever happened to the Bilberry?

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I was remembering the bilberries I used to buy from the market in Rochdale, England in the early 70s and got a desire for a bilberry pie. Nowhere can I find anyone who sells them, except for Amazon who sell dried ones.

The little purple berries are about half the size of their cousin, the blueberry, but are packed with so much more flavour. There is nothing quite like it. Imagine a blueberry, then concentrate its flavour into a volume about one quarter its size, then double the flavour for good measure. You might then have a slight idea of the pleasure of eating bilberries.

They were made into pies, jams or stewed and served with ice cream or cream Mmmm, delicious. Their sweet tartness bursts on the tongue like nothing else. I’m sorry, my American friends, but the blueberry is NOT a substitute, but is bland, squishy and watery in comparison.

Now don’t get me wrong. I enjoy the occasional drink of blueberry juice or fresh blueberries in a fruit salad, it’s just when I think to compare them with the bilberry I feel disappointed. I’ve been searching websites for pictures of bilberries, but there is confusion here and all the ones I could find were actually of blueberries. Some even said they’re  the same fruit!

Why has this delicious little fruit fallen out of favour? Who knows. I suspect it’s something to do with the low-growing habit of the plant. Gathering bilberries is back-breaking work, and not one that many people would relish except for gathering a few wild ones for their own consumption.

They grow on heath and moorland. wild country where few go these days, when people don’t move more than 50 yards from their cars and think themselves adventurous for driving up into the hills and walking so far. So people don’t see these little beauties. Anyway, we have grown so far from nature that unless something comes in a neat package from a supermarket, many are afraid to gather the wild bounty of our hedgerows. (I don’t see many people gathering blackberries from the hedges or picking mushrooms from the fields these days.)

I’ve picked wild stuff since I was a child. Going mushrooming was a delight. we quickly learned to recognise a delicious field mushroom, and to eat them fresh for breakfast, with egg and bacon, well, it makes my mouth water just to think of them. They, like the bilberries, burst with lovely mushroomy flavour.

To make a pie with blackberries you’ve gathered yourself is a pleasure. To be out in the countryside, listening to the birds singing and watching the butterflies and bees–there’s nothing like it, quite apart from the health benefits of the walk.

I do see people gathering blackberries, but they are picking them from the roadside with lorries, cars and buses hurtling by and throwing up dust to coat them, Not to mention those lower down that I’ve seen people picking, just at dog pee level.

I’ve picked elderberries and made wine and jam from them, and the fluffy white umberellas of blossom also makes a lovely cordial as well as elderflower wine.

I’ve digressed from my original thought about bilberries. I long to eat another bilberry pie before I die, but they seem to be a forgotten fruit. Even Word is putting a red squiggly line underneath it everytime I write ‘bilerry’, but it doesn’t under ‘blueberry’.

Amazon’s dried bilberries, at nearly £11 for 250g seems rather a lot. and one of their products is called ‘blueberry juice (bilberry), which isn’t the same thing at all. The only review of the dried bilberries says they are horrible.

I’ve looked on the websites of all the major British supermarkets and none of them stock even jars of the fruit, even though I’ve come across websites that say they do.

So if anyone out there knows of somewhere I can get them, please let me know. I’ll be forever grateful.

Elven Evening Song from The Wolf Pack by V.M.Sang

 

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During their return from finding the Sword of Sauvern, the companions passed through the Elven homeland of Rindisillaran and stayed in the capital, Quatissillaron/ there they heard the beautiful song the elves sing at dusk.

 

Elven Evening Song

Ah equillin ssishinisi
Qua vinillaquishio quibbrous
Ahoni na shar handollesno
As nas brollenores.

Ah equilin bellamana
Qua ssishinisi llanarones
As wma ronalliores
Shi nos Grillon prones.

Ah equilin dama Grillon
Pro llamella shilonores
As nos rellemorres
Drapo weyishores.

Yam shi Grillon yssilores
Grazlin everr nos pronores
Wama vinsho prolle-emo
Lli sha rallemorres.

Translation

“Oh star of the evening
Shining brightly
You give us hope
In the deepening night.

Oh beauteous star
Who heralds the evening
You tell us all
That Grillon guards us

Oh Grillon’s star
As you sink westwards
Return again
To guard the dawn.

Ensure that Grillon
Through darkness keep us
Safe from all evil
Until the morn.”’

Book Title Poll

I’m giving up on this poll. No one can be bothered to vote even when I got it working. It’s a bit of a disappointment, but hey ho, that’s people.

20 commonly mis-spelled words

Here are some commonly misspelled words in English. 113biggestbookdubai

 Acceptable, not Acceptible
 Accessible, not Accessable
 Achieved, not Acheived
 Acquire, not aquire
 Analysis, not Analasis
 Business, not Busness
 Ceiling, not Cieling
 Consistent, not Consistant
 Definite, not Definate
 Discipline, not Disipline
 Exhilarate, not Exilarate
 Exceed, not Exeed
 Forfeit, not Forfit (or Forfiet)
 February, not Febuary
 Height, not hight (or hieght)
 Heirarchy, not Hierarchy (or Hirarchy)
 Independent, not Independant
 Inoculate, not Innoculate
 Leisure, not Liesure
 Liaise, not Liase

English is a very odd language as far as spelling is concerned. This is because it has words and roots from many other languages. There are still a few Celtic words, although not very many. Then the Romans came bringing Latin.

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Latin was the language of scholars and it is only within living memory that it was a requirement to gain entry to Oxford and Cambridge Universities in England. The Roman Catholic Church used Latin in its services until comparatively recently, and many mottos are still in Latin.

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After the Romans left these isles, we were invaded by Scandinavian. These brought their own languages with them. Today, in Scotland in particular, there are many words similar, if not the same, as those in the Scandinavian languages. Dialect words often very old and date back to those languages.

There were also the Saxons. they brought Germanic languages to this country and we have many words that are very similar to the German equivalent. An example is Mutter, meaning Mother, and Haus, meaning House.

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After the Saxons came the Normans. They were, incidentally the last people to successfully invade these isles. This was in 1066. They brought French. The Normans became the ruling classes and spoke French. The workers spoke Anglo-Saxon. This explains why we have differences in the names of food we eat and the animals it comes from.

The French for a bull is Boeuf from which comes Beef. But in the field it is called a Bull, cow or in the plural, cattle.

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The French for a sheep is Mouton, from which comes Mutton, but in the field it’s still the old word, sheep.

The French for a calf is Veau from whence we get Veal.

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You get the picture.

Then Dutch engineers were brought in to drain what is now the Fens in East Anglia and they brought words with them. The British Empire was a source of words too, especially India.

So our language is something of a hotch-potch, hence the different spellings and pronunciation.

I will add to these words in a future blog. I hope you find this useful.

Book Title Poll 3

Please vote if this works. I’m having a lot of trouble getting it to work on WordPress.

Please tell me if it’s working now someone, and also just click one of the little buttons and vote.

Thank you for voting.

Poll on Book Titles

Here are the second two titles for you to choose between. Please vote. It will really help me.

 

Which of these titles would you buy, knowing nothing else.
Gem Quest. 4 Worlds. 4 gems. 1 Quest
Prince of Gems

Quiz Maker

A poem to commemorate WW1

I make no apologies for re-posting this poem. I wrote it 2 years ago to commemorate the anniversary of the start of  World War One. As July 1st is the 100th anniversary of the terrible battle of the Somme, I thought I’d post it rather than the next episode of The Wolf Pack. That I’ll post next week instead.

My Great Uncle Jim, whom I mention in the poem. came back too, but he died shortly afterwards from the results of gassing. The lady known as Auntie Polly, who was his fiancee at the time, never married, but the family always treated her as though they had been.

‘Our Poor Willie’ was also my great uncle. He was my maternal grandmother’s brother. She always referred to him as ‘our poor Willie,’ but no one ever knew why.

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WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.

I’ll never truly understand
How World War I began.
The death of Archduke Ferdinand
Started the deaths of many more
The young, the old, the rich, the poor.
All died with guns in hand.

015gtunclewilly102grandad

 

My Grandad went with Uncle Jim
And Our Poor Willie, too.

They sent them off, singing a hymn.
Grandad went to Gallipoli,
Uncle Jim left his love, Polly.
Gas in trenches did kill him.

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I cannot see, in my mind’s eye
Grandad with gun in hand.
A peaceful man, sent out to die.
He fought for us, for you and me
So we can live and so that we
Safely in our beds may lie.

Grandad came home, and Willie too,
But millions more did not.
Their duty they all had to do.
They died in fear, in noise, in blood.
Everything was caked in mud.
Yet in those fields the poppies grew.

The War to end all wars, they said,
So terrible were the deaths.
The youth of Europe all lay dead.
Yet 21 short years to come
Another war. Once more a gun
In young men’s hands brought death.

One hundred years have passed since then.
What have we learned? Not much!
Too many men are killing men.
Wars still abound around the world.
Bombs and missiles still are hurled
At those who disagree with them.

V.M.Sang

July 2014

I make no apologies for this poem not being in the modern idiom of no rhymes and little rhythm. I’m old-fashioned enough to think that poems ought to differ from prose, and many modern ones I’ve read are little different. That doesn’t necessarily mean rhyming though. I’ve written blank verse myself on occasion.

I also think that they ought to be comprehensible!

Please leave a comment in the comments section.

Uh oh

Oh, so true. Does anyone know on isecticide that works on them?

elfkat's avatarAdventures and Musings of an Arch Druidess

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An Interview with Davrael. The Wolf Pack.

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I have managed to get Davrael to agree to do an interview. This was a difficult task as he is a very private person, but eventually my power of persuasion triumphed. I was a bit afraid when Imet him. He is an imposing man, and the hawk tattoo on his face, wings over his eyebrows, head and beak down his nose and talons on his cheeks was very intimidating. Here is what he said:

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Me: Good afternoon, Davrael. Thank you for agreeing to this interview. I know you are not very keen on publicity.

Davrael: No. I not speak your language too good. It is difficult for me.

Me: I will try to make it as easy as I can for you. Please tell me something of the life of the Horselords.

Davrael: We, as you know, live for horses. Our horses are best on whole of Vimar. We respect them not just use them.

Me: What do you mean by that?

Davrael: We never put them to do things unnatural. We do not enslave them with saddles or bits to make it easier for us. We never beat them, but talk to them and are gentle.

Me: But don’t you use them for food?

Davrael: Yes, but we apologise to horse. He allow us to eat him. We thank Grillon for horse too and we grieve for him when he die. If we not eat horse sometimes, we not survive. If we lost in dry places, horse allow us to drink his blood so we do not thirst. Mares allow us to drink milk too even though it is for foals.

Me: How many horses do your tribe own?

Davrael: We not own horses. They are own masters. We follow when they move to different grazing grounds.

Me: But the horses that you ride;  surely you can’t say they are their own masters?

Davrael: Yes. They allow us to ride and use them, but they not belong to us. To answer your first question, there are 300 horses that allow my tribe to be with them.

Me: That is a lot of horses.

Davrael: Yes. Swooping Hawk tribe very rich. Look after horses well so horses breed well.

Me: Tell me about your family then.

Davrael: I my father’s heir. I second son, but it not auto…automatic…is that the word? for eldest to inherit. My father think that I would be better to see after horses than my brother. I have 2 sisters too. They younger than me. Probably married by now. I not hear since I leave The Plains.

Me: Your father is chief of the Swooping Hawks I understand.

Davrael: Yes. He great chief. We always win fights with other tribes. He good at tactics.

Me: Why do you war with other tribes?

Davrael: Over land–territory, over stealing horses, over stealing women; things like that.

Me: Would you have become chief after your father if you had not left?

Davrael: Perhaps, perhaps not. It depend on other men in tribe. Elders. They vote, but usually it is heir of last chief. Only if they think he not fit will they vote for another. Usually no one challenges. Sometimes, if elders not agree, contestants must fight and winner is chief.

Me: Is it not a hard life, wandering The Plains.

Davrael smiled: Before I came to Grosmer. I not think so. I used to it, and love the horses. Now I get soft with easy living. No need to look for place to camp near water for animals and people, soft beds, not hard mats on floor, stone walls that keep out cold and heat, not hide tents that are cold in winter and hot in summer.

Me: But when you were on your quests with Carthinal and the others. That must have been a bit like your life on The Plains.

Davrael: Yes, but that before we settle to soft life. We only just come over the Barrier–The Western Mountains, you call them.

Me: We?

Davrael: Me and Kimi. We run away because our parents not wish us to marry.

Me: Why was  that?

Davrael: I am son of Chief of Swooping Hawks. Kimi is daughter of a nobody. She also is daughter of settlers. Nomads think settlers no good. Settlers think nomads no good. So we run away.

Me: Is that why you ended up in Grosmer?

Davrael: Yes. We first come to big city, Eribore. I not seen anything as big. Walls all round of stone. We think we not stay there. Too near home, so we go to Hambara. It even bigger city. Kimi find inn and there we meet Carthinal, Basalt, Fero and Asphodel. They kind to us and take us on adventure. Other folk kind too. Duke Rollo give us work after we return. We  think of Grosmer as our land now.

Me: You would not go back to The Plains?

Davrael: No. We have no home there now. Our families have disowned us. Our home and country is Grosmer.

Me: Thank you very much for your time.

Are You Genre-Phobic?

yaarendezvous's avatarYA Author Rendezvous

Young Adult Books Genre PhobicAre you genre-phobic, by T.D. Shields.

Are you a genre-phobe? Do you love to read fantasy but avoid romance like the plague?

Sci-fi flips your switch but horror makes you flip out?

I’m right there with you. Through the years I’ve had many genre phobias, but I notice that mine tend to shift over time.

When I was a teenager, I couldn’t get enough of romance novels. I loved to read about people older than me living exciting lives where I could picture myself as part of the adventure. Now that I am the older person, I love to read Young Adult fiction for stories about people younger than me living exciting lives while I imagine being part of the adventure.

I tend to avoid horror and zombie books because of the gore… yet a serial killer thriller is a must-read in spite of the gore. Inconsistent, I know…

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There are dragons and magic in the world if only you look for them… V.M. Sang