Mr & Mrs Smith went blackberry picking ... together. Well, not really together because when we do things together Mr Smith has to turn the whole thing into a competitive event of olympian proportions whatever it is. We even shop competitively with trolley confiscations and checkout battles. So we had to pick our berries from different sides of the field with a definite "Last one to fill his punnet is a sissy" attitude. I thought Mr Smith might win as he is taller than me and approaches it with the hunger of a Yorkshireman at the sight of free food. (Correct on both counts.) It was a dead heat. Just as well as we only had the dog as an umpire, on his side of the field as an added hazard. Would I stoop to unsporting tactics? Yeah probably.
I got a bit messy with my picking, all purple fingered and a bit prickled and stung by nettles as I reached for the really huge juicy berries. I have designed a blackberry picking outfit which consists of a magenta boiler suit and purple wellies with special mauve gloves like those exfoliating ones they sell in Superdrug. This is not to be confused with my strawberry picking outfit which is very pretty with a flowery straw hat.
Now what on earth am I going to do with all these blackberries? We have eaten so many we are all going purple. I have made 3 summer puddings and filled the freezer and Mr Smith's Yorkshire boots.
(If you know how to make photos go side by side please let me know.)
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