This is going to happen to you any day now if you're not careful. You're going to pop into a supermarket for some milk and beans, and are going to catch sight of some plumptious deep-red cherries loitering in amongst the veg winking at you lasciviously.
You're mouth moistens at the thought of devouring the greatest fruit of all and you grab a punnet on your way to the checkouts. Once there, the checkout operator is going to ring your 4 items through, smile at you and say "That will be £84.20 please".
You need to go foraging, just as I intend to do right now, down our lane, get to the cherries before the thrushes, and then have Anne whip me up a damned fine cherry pie. With custard.
No skin.
.
About Me
- Gary
- In my twenties I was a failed poet. In my thirties I wrote a book on gambling which was very nearly published. In my forties I wrote a small book about moving from London to Shropshire, which remains unpublished. Into my fifties and the quest continues...
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