Berry tasty

There's something about a pick your own fruit farm that is very pleasing - all that beautiful fruit, and you don't have to slave through the winter in a garden, weeping bitter tears of regret over each lost raspberry cane. No, you just pitch up with a punnet when everything's ripe and delicious, and pick all you want. And then some more. And then remember there are strawberries too.

I'm sure somehow we will get through the (gulp) twelve punnets of fruit in the next few days. Though I'm regretting picking so many gooseberries as it seems I'm the only person who likes them.

Half of our party hadn't been fruit picking before, and it was lovely seeing all the kids take to it so eagerly. Even Conor loved it - though I'm still not sure he's convinced of the wisdom of eating fruit, apart from blackberries which he mysteriously adores, eschewing the (to my mind) easier pleasures of raspberries.

After lunch at the cafe we headed to the beach for a rather chilly couple of hours of sandcastle building, football and some very ill-advised swimming (fully clothed). Katherine's shivering was vaguely upsetting when she finally came out and changed into dry clothes. She could barely eat her ice cream for shaking so much. Still, they're all bathed and warm now, watching a movie with a belly full of berries. Mr B is about to get started on dinner and I'm going to join the sofa huddle.

I'm a bit behind with blip... some enforced by lack of internet connection, some the result of just not having time or anything vaguely positive to say. Backblips will follow, probably tomorrow, but yesterday is done.

Oh, and if you've read Lesley's blip already, I'm not going to spill the beans on the poncey breakfast either. Except that there were no beans involved.