This morning, Mrs S and I took JRT for a long stroll in the woods, as we usually do on a Sunday.
About this time of year, we have pangs for the cherry season, and we deliberately avoid buying them before, when they seem to come from Uzbeckistan or perhaps Cuba, because, where we live, there are cherry trees coming out of our ears, and they are beginning to look great in the local orchards.
So after the walk in the woods, at about 9.30am, we decided to pop down to one of the local farm shops for a cherry panic-buying spree...
After a few miles, we had passed three stalls, all closed, and had people waiting outside. The garden shop was open but only sold them loose and they were looking pretty much like they were last week's old tat. The next two roadside stalls were shut too!
So we said "sod 'em" (actually we said "F*** 'em", but this is a family show...), and went home to pick our own wild strawberries, raspberries and blackcurrants and that's what happens when lazy sods can't be arsed to get up early on a warm day in the best season of the year, and sell their own crops for what they want to charge. We'd have happily paid a few quid to get the fresh stuff, and the season is only a few weeks long.
No wonder the supermarkets get them by the throat.