Even though my balcony is a riot of flowers, shrubs, herbs and tomatoes, it's not the same ...
So there I was the other day, relaxing with a glass of wine in the garden of a friend who lives a few doors away.
'Just look at that ...' I breathed, gazing at the rosy apples carpeting every inch of the grass and hanging from the branches of 2 ancient trees.
'Yes,' she said, 'Such a nuisance. I can barely eat one a day. They just lie there and rot, attracting wasps. I wish I could get rid of them to be honest.'
Say no more.
After a couple of hours spent in the timeless bucolic pursuit of apple picking:
- The rotten ones have been collected into her compost bin.
- Bags of apples have been distributed to all the kids on our estate, and from assorted windows the sweet smell of apple pies and crumbles wafts on the breeze.
- Another vast bag has been taken to the refugee hostel down the road and another has found its way to Brighton.
- Both dad and I have spicy stewed apples in large containers in our fridges.
- I've resurrected my mum's fab recipe for apple cake (ultra moist and yummy).
- We've been eating fruit salad for breakfast.
- There's nothing like crunching into a fresh organic apple - almost as good as chocolate and a lot better for you.