Wimbledon tennis. Meaning I stay well away from the Village and the hordes of fit, tanned people wandering around in expensive smart/casual sports wear. And the heaving bars with people spilling out onto the street. And the rackety clatter and whine of helicopters flying overhead and hovering over the courts for those birds eye views. Also, inevitably, I can expect rain.
And of course , accompanying Wimbledon, come the strawberries. Another bumper year it is too. I made the rash decision last night to dispose of 3 kgs in a gigantic late night jam making session. I ended up using 2 preserving pans and the resulting luscious pink goo ended up in 12 jars and a 1 litre pyrex jug in the fridge, when I ran out of jars. (Have dug up more jars today and will see how this jam reheats for subsequent bottling).
And a little boy of my acquaintance is camping on my back lawn this weekend so he can get up early and beat the birds to the strawberries for breakfast. He'll be able to have a crack at the raspberries too, I'm happy to say. And I think we might be able to rustle up a back yard picnic too....(note last weekends effort - my kiwi cheese scones, bacon and egg pie and strawberries from under the clothes line).
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