It’s harvest season in W7 (again, again, and again). Unlike our cherries, our vine normally produces far more grapes than we can eat. This year, the vine had mercy with us and produced just one and a half large bowls of grapes.
Only slightly larger than blueberries, but actually nice and sweet.
A true miracle, knowing these grapes grow in London, on a North-facing wall, and are shaded by our large front garden tree. Sheer desperation if you ask me.