String of ring shells

Coastal style, for free, with a shell mobile – or a seashell wall hanging, if you prefer.

We all like to pick up stones and shells at the beach; some sort of leftover hunter-gatherer instinct, I think. Or all those interesting textures, colours, shapes... Anyway, I was on the beach near Alnwick, in Northumberland the other day (pic at bottom of page, and started picking up ring shells (limpets, in this case, whose tops have worn away). My goal was to find one to wear on my finger, having admired one on a woman in Western Australia once, asking her where she'd got it.

After I'd found one of those, I carried on picking them up, as I walked along the stunning, reflective expanse of sand/sea/sky, turning over the ring shells in my pocket, and decided that, back in the motorhome, I'd string them on a long length of what I had to hand there, which was fishing line.

For maximum beachcombing cred, you could use some discarded fishing line you find. It's dangerous for wildlife, as it's practically invisible, so removing it from the natural environment is nothing but beneficial. And untangling the knots would probably be a great mindfulness exercise. However, I didn't see any discarded line...

Back in the motorhome, I cut a length of line, and tied on my first shell: bigger than the rest, to give the finished piece some weight and encourage it to hang straight. I just tied two granny knots with the end of the line, then carried on with the rest of the shells, tying reach on with two granny knots and roughly equal intervals along the line. At the top I tied a hanging loop, and there it is: a string of ring shells. I think it's offset well by the faux wood of the motorhome wardrobe door.

This project was great for a small space like the motorhome (no need for a pure white, perfectly tidy dedicated craft room, as seen on some Instagram accounts), and it was so satisfying to make the seashell wall hanging not far from where I'd found the materials.

This may be the last motorhome trip of the season, and I'll probably take the string of ring shells home with me, as a memento of the last days of summer.

Making damson jam: 'jamson'

Under the heading of preserves, I've made pickled veg, chutney and clementine curd, but never jam.

On a walk a couple of days ago, while out walking with a friend, I spotted an amazing array of plum (or maybe damson) trees bordering the footpath. We'd already enjoyed apples and blackberries along the way. 'I'm coming back with a bowl,' I said. And I did. 

I was thinking of making damson gin (I like to make drinks from foraged finds) but my partner surprised me by suggesting jam, adding that he'd made it before. He couldn't remember when, or what type, but he'd definitely done it.

So I dug out my ancient Delia Smith Complete Cookery Course and found a recipe, conveniently for around the weight of damsons we had, about 2kg.

We heated the sugar in the oven, as directed, then into the pan (not a special preserving pan, just a big saucepan) with the sugar and fruit and it was soon boiling away.

The bit I was waiting for was the wrinkle test, when you drop a blob of your soon-to-be-jam on a cold plate and push it with your finger to see if it wrinkles. We did this about five times – 'another five minutes' – before it was set.

What went wrong
I forgot to remove the stones, so need to put warning labels on some of the jars. Before I filled the biggest jar, I put the remaining jam through a sieve, picked out the stones, then scraped the mush into the jar.

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