We are severely behind on the allotment but the strawberries keep fruiting regardless. I dragged Son-in-the-Middle along with me one weekend to pick some for breakfast.

I handed him a colander when we got there and he gave me a Look. “I thought you were picking and I was talking to you whilst you did it.” Afraid not, darling boy.

Sarah has planted three or four varieties so there’s a range of sizes and flavours to try.

We’re also picking broad beans. Ours don’t look anything like as good as Terry’s, next door, but they taste just fine. Even M’husband, who generally screws up his nose at them unless I spend hours popping them out of their skins, says they’re good.