Setting off for the dentist on Wednesday I was horrified to discover not one but two strangers blatantly picking OUR raspberries, and by OUR I mean the ones growing along the road near our house which we’ve pretty much had to ourselves up to now (we do actually also have raspberries of our own which grow against the garden wall, which means the easiest way to pick them is to stand in the road and lean over, looking like we’re blatantly scrumping. Fortunately nobody’s called the police yet*)
Anyway, I restrained myself from threatening them with both barrels, although I was reminded of a time when my mother was out picking blackberries and got accosted by a woman who was keen to tell her how contaminated they were likely to be along the road. Unneccessary paranoia we thought – but perhaps on reflection it was merely possessiveness.
Fortunately, as I found when I went out this evening, there are still plenty of raspberries to share, the predations of incomers (or worse, visitors – they were on foot and not accompanied by dogs so clearly not local) notwithstanding. Although I’ve clearly now lived in the country too long …
* you might laugh but a good 15 minutes was given over to the case of the missing village hall wheely bin at the last Community Council meeting. Apparently the bin lorry occasionally eats them, but there were dark suspicions that the New People might have appropriated