Memory of a Picnic

My earliest memory of a picnic was that ludicrously hot summer of 1976 and I swallowed a wasp in a bottle of orange juice. It hurt. But don’t let me put you off, it hasn’t stopped me. It is indeed the time for packing those potted meat sandwiches – sorry I’m still in the 70’s – I mean the houmous and celery sticks,  and locating a river, park or bit of grass verge and enjoying that most lovely of pastimes – the picnic.

I’m doing it in style with the – well there are going to be a few of us, and that’s a lot of houmous to pack.


We’re heading for a riverside, forget health and safety the kids will be building a dam and playing pooh sticks and I might dare have a paddle. I can’t wait, and if it rains then that’s all part of it too. It is a bit nostalgic but I love it, it’s very Enid Blyton to me. In fact forget the houmous – there’s going to be a treasure hunt and lashings of ginger beer (sans wasp).

Here’s a P.S. The day was beautiful. I don’t mean the weather, but a grey sky didn’t detract from the fun we had. There was an unexpected star of the show – the

As we know, kids love their independence and just packing it was a joy for them, but once they’d finished using it for the  traditional use of peanut butter sandwiches, raisins and cookies, (that’s traditional right?) then they were used rather spontaneously for collecting flowers and, lest I forget, a pebble and a twig that looked like a wand. Now we are home, there’s a teddy sleeping in the basket -armed with a wand.  It’s a lovely basket, something I wish I could have had at that age. It’s sturdy enough to be played with, practical enough to be used for picnics – and also now contains magic. It’s a forever item and it must have special powers – the kids are spell bound.

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