That title - Battered raspberries - has nothing whatsoever to do with the favourite fast food (or so I am unreliably informed) of Glaswegians, deep-fried Mars bars.
|Picture: AS10 - the top ten nastiest foods in the world|
Whether or not deep-fried Mars bars really are nasty I couldn't say. I've never even seen one, let alone eaten one. But no, battered raspberries are not the fruits of my garden smothered in batter and . . . Yuck!
We have been subjected to some pretty strong winds on and off this past week but worse than that has been the rain. I suppose in true meteorological terms I should say showers, for that is what they have been for the most part. But what showers! the other morning I set out with the dog under blue skies. Five minutes later, the rain started and within a hundred yards both the dog and I looked like drowned rats. That has been the pattern: beautiful blue skies, then suddenly we are experiencing monsoon-like rain with spatters of hail.
Friday I was duty bingo caller. The venue is a block of retirement flats about 4 miles away. I usually allow 25 minutes to drive there so as to be ready to start at the appointed hour of 7.30. But the city was gridlocked due to flash floods, so I simply turned round and came back home.
It is at this time of the year that my raspberries should be in peak production and I should be picking at least every other day. Not this week. I did go down there this morning to see what was left and did manage to salvage a few fruits, enough to serve as a dressing with the cheesecake we shall be having tonight for dessert. But several canes have been knocked to the ground, and much of the fruit that should have been picked has been simply battered into nothing by the rain.
Although it seems calmer today, we are promised more rain for tomorrow. What larks, Pip, what larks! as Charles Dickens had it.