PYO.

 When I was a child growing up after WW2 in the late fourties’ - you would often see a sigh saying simply PYO. I was very fortunate living on the edge of London in the Garden of England, Kent. It meant Pick Your Own. So I with friends would go along the country lane to the farm with a basket and the farmer would direct us to a particular field. It might be for strawberries, blackberries, gooseberries, apples, pears etc. We would then take the full basket and the farm would weigh it and change us accordingly. Much later in life, I was again living in the depths of the Kent countryside and would take my children to do - what I had done many years before. Sometimes we would go with their cousins and friends. These country pursuits are becoming increasingly - a thing of the past. I mentioned the other day to a person in their mid thirties the PYO sigh and they had no clue what I was talking about. How sad that something so ubiquitous is dying out.