With time to kill before the bus, I searched for apples to make apple infused bourbon for Christmas. Up the Stag Hill (named for the Stag, a long closed pub), I started seeing apples along the kerb but no source until I got close to the top and spotted this tremendous tree heaving with fruit. Finding some firm, unbruised windfall specimens at the base of a hedge I filled my backpack and headed home.
Later while washing the sweet-smelling pieces to remove the likely layer of dog (and, probably, human) urine, I pondered the possible name for this batch of drink. Probably something to do with the “Band of Brothers” theme I got obsessed with earlier in the day — Screaming Eagles, or Easy Company, or something with a parachute theme. Two bottles worth this time, both Clarke’s, of course.