Shoogling: the best way to make popcorn in the woods

If I'm making popcorn and it's not on a campfire, along with writing posts about how to make it on said campfire, it must mean that I'm avoiding doing some kind of boringsittingstill admin or something. And indeed I am, in fact, I'm writing the terms and conditions of my Easter Forest School Course. It's thrilling.

So how do you make popcorn on a campfire? Easy-peasy, you just need to make yourself a specialist piece of equipment known as a shoogler. Thank Lily for introducing us to that term (and it always has to be written in bold italics where possible). Shoogling means 'to shake, sway or rock back and forth'. Which is exactly how you make popcorn in a shoogler.


How to make a shoogler:
The first thing you need is a big stick, think 'fat broomstick stick', hazel is best as it's straight and likes being cut down, but ash or sycamore are good too.

Then you need two metal sieves. You also need some metal wire. The metal bit is very important.

Once you've realised how expensive metal sieves are nowadays, and that you've had to buy two, place them one on top of the other so that they create a sphere, with the handles lined up. This bit is really hard to describe so I'm just going to cheat and show you a picture of the finished article. That'll save me a lot of words.

This is the point at which I realise that I am always so busy in the woods that I rarely manage to take any decent photos of anything. So I've borrowed this very informative image from here.

Hinge the two sieves together using the wire. Use the wire again to attach ONE of the sieve handles to the big stick of hazel that you cut when I told you to earlier. Cutting a small notch in the stick will stop your wire from slipping off.

Use your imagination and ingenuity to create some kind of wire fastening to keep the second sieve handle attached to the big stick once the popcorn is inside.

And - ta da! - you've got your very own shoogler. All you need now are some popcorn kernels, a bit of oil (I usually put some kernels in a cup, pour a little oil over them and give them a good shake), and a fire that has burnt down to embers (try it on a high flame, it's fun, popcorn burns well and flaming shooglers look great!).

Hold the shoogler over the fire and shoogle, shoogle SHOOGLE until all the corn is popped. The popcorn will have a lovely smokey flavour and won't need salt, sugar or any other flavouring.

Plus, if you're in the woods, you won't think that melting a huge chunk of salted butter over the top is a great idea. And then do it and eat the lot.

Like I've just done...

As sure as ex is ex

I had lunch with an ex the other day. Afterwards, a friend of mine asked, given the chance to do things again, knowing it wasn’t going to work out and how painful it was going to be at times, would I do it all again? After a short pause the answer I gave was a resounding ‘YES’ and this is why. It’s probably not what you think.

By ‘not working out’ I think she meant that it didn’t end in marriage and babies, or the fact that it ended at all. But that doesn’t mean that things that don’t work out end up being for nothing. 

I look around me now, and I am living in one of the most beautiful parts of the world. My friends are among the most inspiring and imaginative people I have ever met, I love my job, my lifestyle and the adventure I'm having. Had I not taken chances on other people and, on occasions, thrown caution to the wind, I may still be in London, hating the noise, the traffic and the anonymity while wishing I were in a place with more space, more green, more air. I might still be in Bristol, thinking similar things. I almost certainly wouldn’t be living in a horse box on the top of a windy hill.

I took a chance, I 'messed up' and look when I ended up

Of course, I could well be living in a vineyard in Tuscany, or a small village in Siberia (again). But I guess the point is, I’m happy with the choices, and mistakes, I’ve made. I’m always learning and ‘failing’ is a part of that process. I’ll always have a go, even if I think I might not get the result I want. Sometimes, I end up with a better result than I expected. Sometimes I fail spectacularly. But taking chances and making the most of what I have will always lead to new opportunities. I may stumble, on occasions I’ll fall, but so long as I learn from it, it will be worth it in the end.

So, yes, I would do it all again.

I'd rather wish I hadn’t than wish I had.

Quotidian life

When I woke up this morning, it was just 6°C in the horsebox. It seems that I have yet to master keeping the burner going overnight and I suspect that this is mainly down to my habit of being frequently distracted by more interesting things and an inability to be fully engaged in the mundane. 

However, this wasn't what woke me up. I have more than enough blankets to keep me snuggly. In that shady time of the morning somewhere between sleep and waking, the drumming of a great spotted woodpecker reached me from high in the oak trees overhead. The thinness of the roof above my bed that leads to those chilly mornings, and the proximity of the ceiling to my head (my bed is raised above the cab of the truck), means that I am able to hear sounds that wouldn't be audible if I inhabited a space enclosed in bricks and mortar.

Descending to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, I have to pause briefly to remove pieces of half-eaten mouse that I inadvertently stepped on in my bare feet. The cat has begun supplementing his diet with rodents, but he doesn't appear to be keen on liver. At least he's bothering to eat most of them now. I don't fancy having to chase a vole around the horsebox. Too many hiding spaces. Nor do I want a repeat of the live shrew in my dressing gown. While I was wearing it. Or the one that jumped into my hair and used it as an escape route into my bra... Then I'm back under the covers listening to a bird that never fails to remind me of twanging wooden rulers against a school desk.

Plenty of people would label lying in bed listening to birds while most people are on their way to work as lazy. I'm the first to admit that I'm not really a 'morning person' but one thing I am definitely not is lazy. I am generally a 'doer'. I know what I want to do, I generally know how I'm going to do it and I'm away. Plenty of doing and not much being. It's the quieter moments, when I'm just being, that allow me to reflect on life, formulating my thoughts for the day and thinking about the successes and failures that have led me to this particular point.

Often, that's when inspiration hits. It's very easy, being self employed, to find yourself working away at 11 o'clock on a Sunday night, working through the 'to do' list. Without time to be we can get caught up in the daily process of doing and miss what has been staring us in the face all along. Newton's contemplation under an apple tree led him to form his theory of gravitation and Archimedes' eureka moment was the result of stepping into a lovely warm bath. I wonder if he'd lined up a glass of wine and a good book too?


As I write, the burner is going and the horsebox is a now super cosy nest. The sunshine is pouring through the windows and the occasional showers make me think that there is probably a rainbow nearby. I may venture out to look for it in a bit.You never know, it may just provide the inspiration I don't even know I'm looking for.