I've never tried making wine before. My dear sainted mother had a bash many many years ago when Sis and I were but small annoyances.
As I recall she was a dab hand at turning almost anything into booze; strange hobby for someone who was all but teetotal. I faintly remember the best of the assorted flavours of vino produced with a flourish from under the stairs at The Wee Hoose (the childhood home) being her celery fermentation. Looked like liquid doggy doos; tasted very nice indeed.
To cut a long story short (do ever do anything else?), the results of Wednesday's blackberry picking have been washed, plopped into a fermentation bin...
...where they sat awaiting soaking in boiling water and crushing with a wooden implement.
Now the fruit has soaked overnight, been dolloped on with more boiling water (this time with a small mountain of sugar dissolved in it) and had yeast and nutrient added.
Mrs The Millbrooker and I await with bated breath as the fermentation process begins; the bin has to stay where it is for 4 or 5 days, safely sealed under an improvised lid of clingfilm strengthened by an old pair of tights. Then we get to dribble the contents plus some more boiled water into a demijohn.
After that comes the fun of bottling and then several months patience before getting a decent (we hope) slurp. Film club regulars, think ahead to the New Year; be afraid, be very afraid.