Mort went judging an even bigger homebrew competition last weekend, this one came equipped with a swap-meet and raffle, which scored us some glasses, a shirt and other sundries. Here's Patrick, Mr. Bill and Bill (classic) - probably up to something dodgy. We'll be house/cat-sitting for Patrick & Elena for a chunk of June.
As a result of the swap-meet, Mort was able to (cheaply) pick up equipment that we needed to do a full-mash... So this weekend we put it into action - the top level is hot water, the middle has the grain that has been mashed (in this case, held in water at 68°C for a little over an hour to let the enzymes convert starch into fermentable sugars), the bottom level is the kettle collecting the sweet runoff. This'll be an English bitter.
I also managed to finish the socks I started on the pub-crawl, and have mostly knitted while brewing.
Today is the last day of a 3-day weekend, also my first weekend on emergency duty. The phone hasn't rung at all, which should mean nothing came in for necropsy. But seriously? A long weekend and not a single animal died or was euthanised where someone wanted to find out what happened? I'm going in this afternoon just to check there's not a chiller full of horse waiting for me.
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