After two weeks religiously stirring my wee olives, changing their water daily, I have replaced a pyrex bowl of small reddish brown balls with a much more glamorous jar stuffed with almost edible olives and other ingredients of gorgeousness. Although, given my limited crop, the olives are in the minority.
Google offered so many different methods for curing the little blighters, I couldn’t decide which approach to chose. So, I’ve adopted a combination of three techniques all of which appealed to me. Having soaked them for almost two weeks in cold water, they were transformed from hard black blobs into slightly larger, paler and squishier blobs. It’s surprising how much colour seems to leach out of them. Every time I changed the water, more of their glossy blackness was washed away.
So, the government has committed the UK to an 80% reduction in greenhouse gases by the middle of the century. And we thought we were having a tough time reaching 60%. I’ll try to withhold judgment until I see how they propose to achieve this laudable target, but it does appear contradictory to the plans announced last week for expansion at Stanstead Airport.
I fear they may be putting all their eggs in a nuclear-powered egg basket. My childhood years spent marching through the street of London with CND and trudging the perimeter fence of Greenham Common with a “Hamsters Against the Bomb” banner have ingrained a mistrust of nuclear power deep in my psyche. I cannot countenance the idea of an ever-more nuclear Britain.