First you go picking again!
This time there were raspberries which delighted everyone, especially Nathaniel and I, as they are our favourites.
But then we found something amazing:
I like strawberries. They are very pleasant. But I would hardly class myself as obsessed. Unlike some people, I don't regard summer as imperfect without them, and I'm never desperately waiting for them.
But I don't recall ever having picked big, fat, late strawberries after a week of warm weather and beating sun. I have never tasted anything like that! Or, if as a child I did (Millets definitely provided me with several stomach's-worth), I never appreciated how different they were to the watery supermarket variety, or even the local sort in the greengrocer. Nothing will ever compare to these juicy strawberries, warm from the sun, so full of taste that you can't beleive they don't explode.
I was quite overcome!
So we picked rather a lot!
Then it was off to the sailing club. Nathaniel would have been rather disapointed otherwise.
Here's the start of the race:
You may notice that the orange GP14 has a rather little crew. Maybe the youngest in the club's history.
And he did a rather good job and was very pleased when the boat "wobbled". After a lap or so he started to get a bit bored and noticed me on the jetty and demanded that I join them. I did so, opening all sorts of discussions about whether the rules alow you to take on crew during a race. They are clear about getting rid of your crew, but no-one was sure how to put a crew of 2.5 on the race sheet. Only in our club would the discussion ignore the landing of the boat and concentrate on how the rules stand on crew members in utero.
After lunch, I took the GP out on my own - the first sail I have had this season. It was blissful! Just enough wind to carry me along, plenty of warm sun. Then Nimmy turned up and decided to see if she could remember which rope to pull and which end went first.
We had a lovely time after the initial run aground! The wind picked up a bit as storm clouds gathered over Selby (they are always over Selby, never us!), and we had a lovely beat back to the club. Just as well really, as the encounter with the mud left us without a vital bit of equipment!
The day finished with the traditional charring of meat. Except that it wasn't charred, it was the butcher's finest lamb chops cooked to perfection.
You can't beat days like this!