They were worth the tummy ache.
At least, they must have been, because we could never resist picking and eating the apples from our tree long before they were ready (and, in truth, they never got that sweet anyway). We would use them to play bob the apple at Hallowe’en and, later, they would be arrayed on makeshift tables in the shed and would keep us in stewed apple, apple tarts and glorious baked apples for the winter.
Neither, I might add, could we resist climbing our apple tree and, on occasion, swinging from its branches.
My brother demonstrating the fine art of swinging from an apple tree
Whaddya Sayin’?