Blackberrying.

I’ve sent my husband out blackberrying with the kids. They return with several enormous tubs of berries looking very pleased with themselves.

“Excellent,” I say taking the tubs. I start to sort them into bags to go in the freezer. Then I pause.

“Hang on a minute,” I say pulling out a sloe berry. “What’s this doing in here?”

“Oh,” says my hubby. “I saw those in the hedgerow and I thought they looked nice. So I picked them too. I don’t know what they are.”

I eye him suspiciously. “Did you pick anything else?”

“Oh yes.” He’s looking really smug. “There were all sorts of berries along the lane.”

Ah.

I spend ages sifting through the blackberries really carefully before freezing them.

I think I’ve removed all the sloes and deadly nightshade.

Sloe gin and blackberry pie anyone?