Wild Strawberries

Wild Strawberry, Fragaria vesca

This pic that Captain Butterfly bought home on Friday - from Cissbury Ring - gave me a blog title. But I now have to find the blog to go with it.

I feel a bit like Beachcomber with his stunning tabloid headline:

FIFTY HORSES WEDGED UP CHIMNEY!

Underneath it read: "The story to fit this sensational headline has not turned up yet."

The story to fit this lovely photo has not turned up yet, but maybe it will.   Though probably not this morning as I am just off to pick up Jean for the Field Service   - our group is joining the Kingdom Hall group this Saturday.  Its sunny, so Captain B is off to do his transect.  His sandwiches are all ready in the fridge.

In fact - and here is the thrilling part of the blog - they are yesterday's sandwiches - because HE FORGOT TO TAKE THEM.  (Don't try this at home.)

Before he left yesterday,  I did my usual checklist.  Have you got:
1  Your lunch?
2. Your phone?
3  Is it on Bluetooth (it took me a long time to stop saying Blackberry)?
4. Your money?
5. Your keys?

He answered "yes" to every one, but, after he had left, I found the box of cake and sandwiches sitting beside the fridge. It had been removed from the fridge, but not made it to the rucksack.

So I was worrying away about it - picturing his skeletal form being found in the Downs, his arm reaching desperately towards the last strawberry of summer...   but he rang during my Skype chat with Anne of the Cape, to tell me he had bought a pasty from a cafe.