Richard Williamson's Column, November 10.
I cannot remember when I last saw a child touching blackberries. They hardly know what they are any more.
When I was a child, you could sell them to the shops in the school holidays and make enough to keep yourself in ice cream and doughnuts and a Saturday matinee at the local flea pit.
Children today would think them at the worst poisonous and at the best sour. But I hope I am wrong. Richard Maybey thinks they are the last safe wild fruit of the people ubiquitous and universally recognised, and a link used by the urban masses to connect themselves to the nostalgic myth of the country roots.