byronic :: mad bad and dangerous to know

superfluidity:

linocut:

Gooseberry Jam

or

Gooseberry Crumble

or

Other

?

When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
Nine-pin down on donkey’s common,
And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed
Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,
The whole of the moon I could love and leave
All the green leaved little weddings’ wives
In the coal black bush and let them grieve.

Whenever the word gooseberry comes up, I think of Lament by Dylan Thomas (read here by a late friend with a rich voice). The correct answer to your question, by the way, is jam.

This is either serendipity, or in a previous life Super and I lived in Russia and grew our own gooseberries. I made crumble last week, it was delicious.