Picked

I know I said yesterday that the gooseberries were not quite ready for picking, yet here they are in a bowl in the kitchen.

While sitting over my pre-breakfast coffee I noticed a big fat pigeon sitting on the bushes, so dashed out in my dressing gown to shoo it away - I was almost close enough to grab it before it deigned to fly off.

It seemed the only way to save the crop was to pick it at once, which I did, though I did get dressed first - the neighbours already know I'm mad, but I'm not mad enough to stay out in the rain picking gooseberries in my dressing gown.

So here they are, awaiting a decision as to the best use. I had intended repeating the exercise of rescuing the rest of the strawberry jam but Mr Flum demurred - he is happy to eat runny jam, it appears - so the Kilner jars may be deployed again.