Half a pound of treacle
That's the way the money goes
Pop goes the weasel
We've had a lot of rain here. Although, we're lucky because some poor people have been flooded badly up north. The problem with rain, if you're growing fruit, is that it seems to make ripe fruit burst. So, it was, as I was picking gooseberries, that this rhyme went round my head. There's something about picking fruit that makes me think random thoughts, such as "what does this rhyme really mean?" I came to the conclusion that it was a subversive rhyme suggesting that if you bought rice and treacle, you would have no money and be fat. I was almost right.
Last time I picked gooseberries, I decided that fruit plants had a "zen". I did warn you my mind wanders. The zen of fruit plants was that they attempt to hide all their fruit under their leaves so that I didn't see the ripe ones. And, in the case of gooseberries, protect them with evil thorns to put you off.
Nevertherless, I got a whole punnet of mostly non-popped gooseberries.
However, before I picked the gooseberries, I picked a whole load of tayberries. These fruit may look the same, but because they're redder and smaller, are different. My mother told me not to pick them any more, but then in the afternoon started picking them anyway. Yes, I was confused too.
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