Here's a spooky little household tip for you. I have some decanters that I use on the breakfast table and they were beginning to look a little cloudy despite vigorous attacks with bottle brushes, baking soda, detergent and vinegar. So I went to my best friend Google and was told that the foolproof way to solve my problem is with denture cleaners. So off to the supermarket I go only to be confronted with the same overwhelming choices that make purchasing toothpaste an activity requiring a stiff drink at its completion. Do I want protection from cavities, gum disease or plaque? Do I want my teeth to blind onlookers with their creepy whiteness or do I want to be refreshed? It would appear our dentally challenged friends face the same questions which required me to stand longer than I found comfortable in the 'she's got false teeth' aisle. When a neighbour approached to chat I felt her gaze linger longer than was absolutely necessary on my (by now) clenched teeth. I wasn't so craven as to announce in a loud voice that I was buying denture cleaning effervescent tablets to clean my antique decanters , much as I wanted to. I did however pretend that I had found myself in the wrong aisle and left the store with toothpaste for smokers. I don't smoke. So. Cloudy decanters it will have to be. Next morning I poured some cranberry juice into the worst of them, served it up and hoped that no one would notice. Imagine my surprise when the empty decanter came back to the kitchen at the end of breakfast service sparkling and clear! I repeated the exercise on all of my glass. It works. But I now feel myself disinclined to drink cranberry juice.
Speaking of spooky, a guest informed me yesterday that she had had a late night chat with the builder of my house. My house was built in 1774. Was this, I found myself wondering, the result of too much cranberry juice or has old Abijah Waterman returned to give me a hand running the inn?