I have so totally grown out of chasing after noisy little children with flappy arms and trying to eat their ice-creams.
Anyway, we walk over the bridge to the other, usually child-free side of the river and I gain my freedom.
Now I can hear what you're thinking. "Bertie, how come you are always moaning about the grey and gloomy weather, it looks just lovely, over 20ºC surely".
Er yes, it was. For a couple of hours. One learns to seize the moment.
'Cos you just know, that a cold wet blanket of haar, which the sharp eyed amongst you might have spotted hovering in the background on the river photo, is about to move onshore from the North Sea and pounce on my neighbourhood.
Will ye no come back again?
PS Gail wants me to say a couple more things about the cloudberries which featured in my previous post. Firstly, that we did find more than one! At least half a dozen made it back home and into the dessert, only to be smothered in the whipped cream. And secondly, that in Europe cloudberries are little known outside Scandinavia. In the UK they are restricted to a very few upland localities, where their requirements for moisture (hence 'cloud' berries), acid soil and low temperatures are met.