Grow your own crumble

BACK when smoking was good for you, certain activities were almost compulsory. Families gathered to watch the Red Arrows, the whole day was given over to the FA Cup final and everyone—everyone—went blackberrying. As if an inaudible summer siren had sounded, people streamed to roadside verges, untidy hedges, and—in our case—the path of the old railway line, in search of free fruit.

This wasn’t without its stress: my sister and I would