Lovely sunny afternoon yesterday, so Molly (the spaniel) and I went blackberrying. I thought we would just catch the last of the season. Lots seem to have rotted on the bush before coming to fruition. We had to search a bit but there are more still to come. We all know, of course that you don't pick blackberries after Michaelmas (september 29th) - this is the day the devil was thrown out of heaven and landed in a blackberry bush among the thorns. He takes his revenge every year by peeing on the bushes, so steer clear.
As if the vicious thorns weren't enough to protect the berries - from what - isn't the idea that they get eaten and the seed distributed? Anyway, as if that weren't enough, brambles associate themselves with stinging nettles. I got stung all up my right arm and, all evening in the theatre, it irritated me. I can still feel the stings as a minor irritation as I type, the morning after.
By the way, why don't dogs' noses get stung? Molly sticks hers into everything with no ill effects.