Fruit Picking 

I have never ever been to a pick your own farm. In 33 years. Nope. Never. Until Saturday.

It’s apparently a childhood tradition in the UK to take your kids fruit picking at some point. Be it apples and pears or strawberry and blackberries. 

But I didn’t grow up in the UK and by the time I moved here, I still hadn’t been. 

I’ve always wanted to, just never gotten round to it.

This weekend we had friends come to stay. I suggested visiting a pick your own farm which was excitedly confirmed with our guests. 

So myself, one of my best friends Sian and our daughters went fruit picking. 

We steered clear of the vegetable patches. Ha. Went straight to raspberries which were delicious. Then blackcurrants, which are sour as hell. Ribena they are not! My plan for those is blackcurrant jam. And gin.

Then the best fruits ever. Strawberries and Cherries.

We ate less than we picked. Because we picked LOADS. They were deliciously sweet and sticky. 

Will I go again? Oh hell yes.