To eat figs off the tree in the very early morning, when they have been barely touched by the sun, is one of the exquisite pleasures of the Mediterranean.
Elizabeth David
A gorgeous afternoon in Borough Market. 
The snow has stopped, but the winter fruits are still out in force. 
I packed my bag full with wonderful things: a handful of blood oranges, a packet of bucatini, a bunch of daffodils, a wedge of Cashel Blue, a crusty loaf of bread, and a little tray of figs.
My hands are freezing (despite the mulled wine they were wrapped around) so I'm off home for a very long bath, a glass of port, and some of those figs.
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