Gooseberries

Our latest harvest. Though, to be fair, we didn't have many and I picked them way too early so neurotic was I that a bird was going to feast on them before me. Plus Anne's rubbish at making crumble topping. So, not only could we barely find the gooseberries under the lump of stodge above, but when we did they were on the inedible side of under-sugared. Still, at least some thrush or blackbird went hungry into that good night.

And all was not lost. The shop-bought ready-made custard was blooming scrummy. No skin.