Observe that when I speak of crates your mind provides one straight away. Likely you are thinking of the fruiterer’s crate: a shallow slatted box of rain-matted pine, the archetype of apples stencilled on the side, a cartouche slot above it for a grocer’s hand. Your crate may be the sturdy plastic tub of the eco-minded council, waiting at the gate with all its … Continue reading ‘Crates’ by Jo Bell