When I was a kid, the first Sunday outing of the year would be when Mum went primrose hunting. She loved the wild plants that grew in the ditches and hedgerows and Dad would have to drive slowly down obscure little country lanes with my brother and I briefed to keep a sharp look-out for the prized blooms. As soon as some were spotted, Dad would have to stop and wait while she dug up half of the plant to transport to her rockery.
To this day I can't see a primrose without immediately thinking of those Spring Sunday afternoon outings from over 60 years ago.
