Fresh fruit? Yes please! Never mind that I had just finished a cottage pie as big as my face. I was going to have a punnet of those raspberries. I couldn’t help myself. Really. They were just sitting so pretty alongside the luscious apples and pears lining the rickety stalls of London’s Soho Fruit Markets, I just couldn’t restrain myself. And it seemed that I wasn’t the only one.

A short walk from Piccadilly Circus (and a street away from questionable stores pawning ‘girls girls girls’) meant that an eclectic bunch of people could be found at these stalls. Tourists, flaneurs, perverts — we were all there for one thing: raspberries. Or apples. Or pears. Or those gigantic strawberries that the Brits are so good at growing. Whatever you chose, it was all agreed that these handful of stalls were a refreshing change from the meat and questionable fats that the Brits are also very good at serving.

As an American said as he fumbled for an apple: ‘Gawd, I’ve never loved fruit so much in my life’.

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