Sat in the straw, seemingly not a care in the world, legs crossed, blue buckets by our sides and a gentle breeze slowly billowing through our hair. My eldest niece and I let our fingers skim the green leaves till our eyes caught sight of the reddest, most plump strawberry we could discover. Comparing our finds with such excitement, discarding most into our collection pots, before popping the juiciest straight to our lips, the fruit bursting in our mouths, sheer delight on our faces giggling as we munched away.

As we sat on the hard earth between the strawberry plants that roamed for miles, the heavens opened and a summer shower began. Of course, we didn’t care. For this humble activity bought such joy and we were relishing that together. Once our punnets were full, and faces covered in the juice of our not so discrete nibbling, dusting off the straw from our skirts, we made our way back past the raspberries, fruit so fresh and tasty even a spider would not cause concern today, it would appear.