I was by no means a badly-behaved boy, growing up in the 1970s – but that didn’t mean I never got into trouble! One of my main weaknesses was for ‘scrumping’ apples from some of the gardens in the small English village where I lived.
On this occasion, I was accompanied in my spree of crime by my best friend Derek, who like me was eight at the time. We were walking in a farmer’s field, on to which gave the back gardens of several large houses, one of which belonged to Mrs Seddon, a prim grey-haired widow. In her garden, overhanging the field, were several trees, from which grew the biggest apples I had ever seen in my life.