Berry Picking

Blackcurrants. Raspberries. Apples. All three have been picked in abundance by me over the past few days. Home Farm is awash with them. They are taking over the place. I have been reliably informed that the heat is causing them to grow to a size that would be seen as impressive by even the most cynical hard-bitten observer of fruit. If there was a local competition (and for all I know, there is) for 'Largest Raspberries' then a victorious Sir Geoffrey Carstone would be carried through the streets of the village by a jubilant throng.

Berry-picking was a pleasurable experience. The estate has been bathed in sunshine over the past few days. I do not have a great deal of work to do this week, as the family are away on holiday in Italy. Life in the House continues however. Carstone carries on no matter who is present within its stone (or, in all honesty, mostly brick, with stone cladding) walls.

All seems peaceful as I type this. The only sound I hear is a light tapping noise coming from the direction of the lake and boathouse where some repairs are being made to Mr Miles' gilded gondola. I believe the nice weather has left us now though. Spots of rain have begun to spatter on my window and the clouds above look dark and ominous.

Today is not a berry picking day.