Pick your own strawberries.

I saw that sign outside a little farm out beyond Cockfosters. When my kids were small, they used to love going over there to pick their own strawberries. I was always very strict, telling them not to eat any before we’d paid for them because that was stealing. Unfortunately, I failed to practise what I preached. While they were busy picking, I’d be busy eating and and would have scoffed at least a hundredweight by the time we got to the till. They knew I loved strawberries but could never understand why I was unable to eat any when we got home. Eventually, they worked it out. And in a reversal of the usual parent/child dynamic, they weren’t angry with me – they were “disappointed”.