Strawberry pickin'

It was a beautiful day for strawberry picking, and after years and years of Tishen's advertisements, we finally made it to The Farm to gorge ourselves on strawberries to our heart's content. The city slickers were high on expectation and not much sleep.

As we pulled into the parking lot, row upon row upon row of strawberry bushes greeted our eyes, followed by row upon row of vegetables. So it was with much anticipation that we collected our blue plastic baskets and headed out into the field.

It wasn't long before comparisons were being drawn as to who could find the most perfect strawberries, but that got boring, and the mutated ones were far more interesting to 'eww' at.

We posed for the compulsory pictures about half way through when the strawberry patches started to get a little repetitive. Hsiang and Weng (city boys) decided that strawberries weren't interesting enough and went in search of carrots, cabbages, and mange tout.

They soon realised that these fresh produce were even more dull, and the lowly strawberry was once again elevated into the most pickable fruit in our 100m radius, much to Tishen 's (country boy's) approval, who carefully introduced our valiant city slicker and one Japanese tourist to the hidden delights of eating strawberries right off the plant.

The country boy found much hilarity in the Japanese tourist's reluctance to eat the said fruit without washing it, but ignored the protests of "What about the pesticides? There are no bugs around, they must use pesticide." Protests which rang deterringly true as I was halfway through my eleventh strawberry.

Ah, 'twas a good day indeed, and my brave hunter-gatherers held their trophies and their heads high as they marched t'wards the till.