It’s official, my husband doesn’t want to live in a doll’s house.  And neither do I although there’s little to do in our new (tiny) home.  So, I tend to go around twice, plumping cushions, tidying papers and straightening towels. It’s time to find some more work before I begin straightening out the loo paper!  I still have vivid memories of an interview when the candidate’s motivation for joining us was to avoid straightening out the loo rolls around the house once their children went to school. 

When the sun shines I’m usually out in the garden planting or deadheading although right now I just have those sturdy carrier bags of hellebores and lots of empty pots.  My dilemma is not what to plant but when to plant.  No use trying to move huge terracotta pots full of soil and plants during new garden construction.  Yes, it’s time to get on with the garden design.  I have grand ideas of a well-planted, overflowing English country garden at the front of the house and something more mediterranean to the back of the house.  A cobbled courtyard with oversized olive trees and drought resistant plants for our ever-changing climate.

I haven’t given up my daydreaming, love of gardens or my writing although I need the challenge of business and a transformation project or a demanding recruitment campaign.  It’s what I know and it’s what I do.  I like to keep the house clean and tidy, and I love exercising my creativity when selecting colours and fabrics or plant combinations, but sometimes I need the rigor of organisational challenge.  Talking of exercise, I’m still pool walking and after the upheaval of moving, I’ve quickly returned to my strict eating habits.  It was all too easy to grab a sandwich or order a takeaway, especially when I spotted the thickness of the oven manual.

Talking of eating habits, it was my first (late) breakfast of asparagus and poached duck eggs at a farm shop in Sussex yesterday!  Sitting in the sunshine watching the world go by with a friend we watched the farmyard comings and goings.  Our conversation was, as always, representative of our varied interests – food, family and friends.  A bit of a late start to the asparagus season saw the farm shop transformed into the first day of Harrods sale.  Ladies with elbows out and massive bags for life grabbed handfuls of the stuff, while my friend and I looked on in amazement.  Lycra clad cyclists stuffed green spears in their back pockets and grumpy latecomers shuffled off empty handed; heads bowed in reverence to their loss.

My friend and I decided to travel across the border to Kent in search of a little more asparagus than the fighting ladies of Sussex allowed.  Satnav primed we travelled through meandering lanes and heard that we were within 6 minutes of our destination for about half an hour.  We chatted and giggled, missing a few turns somewhere along the way.  We were thrilled with our Saturday choices although any money saved by going direct to the farmers was expended on fuel.  Oh, the joys of the short but delicious English asparagus season and the delights of friendship.

A tasty accompaniment to asparagus with the wild garlic season in full swing, why not make up a jar of pesto?  The Italian (pesto seems to originate from Genoa) recipe suggests pine nuts and basil, there’s much fun to be had experimenting with different nuts and herbs.  Forage for wild garlic | National Trust

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