Darling, my lovely man asked, holding a handful of berries, what are these?
They look like gooseberries, I said, where did you find them?
There’s loads of them in the flower bed at the back, he replied.
Is there a gooseberry bush there, I asked. Apparently not.
They are nice, I said, popping one in my mouth, I’ll add them to your breakfast bowl (I’m always on the lookout for bright coloured fruit and veg my lovely man should be eating).
He looked at me horrified…. You don’t really know what they are… You could die.
Tastes like a gooseberry, I replied, but yes, we should wash them.
He watched me carefully the rest of the day… I knew he was concerned when he began with the questions..
How do I buy electricity?
What are the cake ladies details?
Can you please write down how exactly you make my breakfast bowl?
And then, as a bit of an afterthought…
How do I call the ambulance people?
So now… We have mysterious… Or as I like to call them.. Immaculate gooseberries.