I've been trying to convince Stephen that it's nearly spring for a couple of weeks now. I've thrown open the balcony, he closed it. I mentioned the sun, he mentioned the rain. I mentioned the lighter evenings, he pointed out constellations at seven o'clock.
Now I have irrefutable evidence of the sprigyosity. I have stuff growing. Today I planted parsley, basil, coriander and some gardener's delight tomatoes. They are currently living on the inside, staring out onto the balcony that will one day be their home and wrapped in a tiny coat of cling film.
This week's box came with portobellos, which I'm excited about, and leeks, which I'm not. I admire the architecture of them but... I don't dare to cook them.