I know they’re just three plastic bees in a bag, but I’m really enjoying talking to them. They never judge.
Anyhow, today is the 980th anniversary of the death of King Duncan the First of Scotland. And while involved, Macbeth did not murder sleep by bumping him off during a slumber party as Shakespeare would have us believe. But why waste a good tale? So in a move of Banquo-worthy passive-aggression, I made some soap to help get those damned spots out.
And making soap is so easy. Well it is when all you have to do is cut up chunks of pre-made soap base, shove it in the microwave, add bits, and pour it in a pre-made mould. Still, I did push the boat out a little, I thought about the moulds, and the smells. And at the last moment I dug an old bag of rose petals out of the cupboard (Best Before 09/2017, still whiffy) and a bottle of red food dye to add to the mixture.
So without any further ado, may I introduce the Everyday Lore 2020 Regicide Collection:
Burnham Wood, delicately fragranced with frankincense, a traditional Arabian perfume oil sourced from sustainable Boswellia tree resin, guaranteed to ‘remove’ any stubborn stains and leaf your hands and your conscience clean.
Fruitless Crown, don’t leave your hygiene to chance, the bell invites you to stir your senses by smothering yourself in the aroma of rose, and you’ll feel like a king thereafter. Please note, avoid the face in case it doth sear thine eye-balls.
More product details:
The original block of soap had the consistency of butter and smelled unclean, and then of weak tea. I added far too much rose oil and now that’s all I can smell. Frankincense does not smell how I thought it would, it’s fruity and gorgeous. Rose and frankincense are both perfumes of Arabia, just to sweeten the gag. Despite my lovely friend Hildegunn acting as technical consultant, I still managed to mess up the rose petal distribution. You really should buy her soap, it’s excellent. Burnham Wood was supposed to be red, I have no idea why it wasn’t. I’ve had actors shout at me for deliberately saying Macbeth on stage to annoy them. It’s my favourite Shakespeare play. One of my favourite productions was at youth theatre. It might have had something to do with thing I had for the leading man, I couldn’t possibly say.
Epilogue: That watermelon tasted weird. Slightly garlicky, bitter. Very odd indeed. If I was a superstitious person…
Cooper, Q. and Sullivan, P. (1994) Maypoles, Martyrs & Mayhem: 366 Days of British Myths, Customs & Eccentricities, London, Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Incidentally, the drops on the header image are food dye, not blood. Probably shouldn’t have used food dye. Probably should have used the beetroot powder I’d forgotten about in my cupboard.