I'm very cooperative

This month, as an email from ABCUL reminded me, sees the 250th anniversary of the founding of the Fenwick Weavers Society. It is claimed that this is the first known co-operative in the world for which full records are held. Which could put the collective noses of the Rochdale Pioneers out of joint by 84 years, if such things mattered. The residents of Toad Lane have traditionally considered themselves the first among equals.

An interesting article in the Grauniad concerning the Big Society in the Basque Country (Euskadi). Great stuff but not without its problems as the last three paragraphs outline.

Mondragón's utopian ideal, however, is tempered by the fact that only half of staff are co-op members and their vote decides the future of the other 50%. The result is a two-tier system.
During the recession it was non-member staff who suffered, losing jobs as temporary contracts were not renewed. None of its foreign divisions have become co-ops, stymied by a lack of profits and trade unions abroad suspicious of worker ownership.
Carlos Fernández Isoird, a former manager who left to set up social enterprises, says Mondragón is too large, too multinational and too capitalist in outlook: "Mondragón stopped forming co-ops years ago. They have 6,000 workers in China and just opened two factories in India. Tell me when will a Chinese get to be president of Mondragón?"

Ah yes membership, equality and globalisation!

What would a network of cooperatives, mutuals, non-profits etc. look like? Hmmm...

Once upon time in a London Borough far, far away a young lad was enchanted listening to the tale told by a colleague of some considerable experience. On a visit to explore the, architectural, wonders of Bordeaux he fell in with a wine coop which had celebrated its 100th anniversary. The way they had chosen to do this was by bottling an anniversary wine with the label Chateau Rochdale in honour of our friends in Toad Lane!

Let me know if you find a bottle and how good it was!

Who are you calling a pansy?

There are lots of green shoots and buds in the garden. There are flowers planted by the previous owners and those planted by the Head Gardener (HG) who rules our vast estate with a rod of blackthorn. It is a joy and now that we have both shaken off our colds, maybe the same one generously shared, we can even appreciate the experience with our noses. HG has placed two pots of welcoming pansys by the front door. They have survived the late winter and now bask in the spring sun, don't we all!

The cold has seriously affected my appreciation of wine. Heavens to Betsy I hear our readers cry as one person! In support of the local playing field we had a cheese and wine tasting. I felt obliged to go. The wine was supplied by Shami Gill, an independent supplier from a local village. It was an interesting evening. All but one of the five wines we tasted had no nose for me, sadly. However, they all contributed to an increasing sense of conviviality and enjoyment as the evening flowed, very strange that. We rolled home knowing we had made a positive and selfless contribution to the wellbeing of the pueblo!

Tondonia.

I have had little acquaintance with Spanish wine. (No laughing at the back please!) The delicious wine that came out of a barrel in a bodega in our pueblo in Cantabria was unbranded and retailed at about 100 pesetas a litre. Perhaps 110 if you were after the good stuff (50p at the time). I have since graduated to an upper limit of a fiver a bottle, or thereabouts. The kindness of family, friends and strangers sometimes takes me into deeper waters. Let me share the tale of such a gift which secured a great deal of affection in my heart for the parties concerned, they know who they are!

The bottle, Tondonia, Cosecha de 1985, Gran Reserva, was placed in my hand with the strict instructions to drink and enjoy over the holiday period. (Will you please stop laughing at the back! Thank you.)

The wine comes from the Bodegas R. Lopez de Heredia in Haro, in the Rioja Alta. The link gives details and they have been making wine for 140 years so perhaps they know a thing or two.

The bottle was sealed with wax the colour of the stuff that comes out of the mouths of mafiosi and sucklings when they have been shot in the lungs, in glorious Technicolor. Could I open it? It wasn’t a screw top. Would it be corked or oxidised? Would I be able to tell? I applied the waiter’s friend, double pull, with shaking hands. (Now then!) The wine was fine, no sign of taint and, of course, I just had to have wee sip to clarify the position on oxidation, ahem. It tasted very young and fruity. I decanted it and got on with the business of cooking my goose, which was in fact a free range chicken! About an hour later I had to have a further sip to make sure it hadn’t oxidised, evaporated, or suffered some other terrible mishap. (Sniggering is not allowed either!)

Of course it was fine and when I sat down to my meal later I was able to enjoy the wine. I do not have the language to describe it in expert terms but it was smooth, had lots of fruit, complex but pleasing flavours and no hint of rough treatment from the barricas that they use. If you are interested there is a man in an anorak who seems to know what he is talking about and who am I to disagree.

Strangely enough I did not finish the bottle. (Watch it!)

I left half for the following dayand I had my meal after Brenda, god bless her, had given her address to the nation. For any youngsters or diehard republicans this is like a You Tube that has been going on for 50 years, before You Tube was either profitable or popular, just a Glaswegian insult.

The wine was a revelation. A good wine, a very good wine, was transformed overnight. It was like seeing a pretty baby one night and finding a beautiful 22 year old the day after. A flower grown from nothing in a day’s turning.

I decided not to risk a third day and gave it the coup d'état, as Des would have said.

Muchas gracias!