We went furtling at the week-end. Furtling and rootling and rustling the leaves and hedgerows for sloes. Searching for treasure.
We had seen them last winter, in the depths of the snow and ice - and made a mental note about the location. Sloes are a bit like hen's teeth in Scotland. And, if you know anyone that has a supply, they usually won't tell you where they get them from. Not like my native Herefordshire, where every hedgerow and every lane and every winding path has sloes and rosehips and blackberries/brambles in plentiful supply.