On Riding Cars Like Seabiscuit

Dropping Merci Beaucoup Enfant Deux back to uni on Saturday morning, we discovered those blasted roadworks along the M1 were finally finished, and we were driving on 4 lanes. Oh man, this was such a delight, but of course some jackass decided to cruise along in the third lane - who are these people? I did my usual trick of sidling up alongside the offender, on their left side on an otherwise deserted M1. This has one of two, immediate effects. Either the offending driver speeds up, and I then keep pace alongside his shoulder, edging him ever faster into the speed cameras, or the driver carries on driving oblivious. The latter is the most dangerous, and in such circumstances the only solution is to take out a Carl Gustav rocket launcher from the glove box and shoot them off the road. If only.

Parental taxi services complete, I returned home and parked up for the rest of the weekend. I don't often take the weekend off, and decided to do some nesting - baking cakes; clearing out the attic, scrubbing down the long toms and generally laundering everything in sight that was not nailed down. Back to work this morning, and the M1 was pretty clear, all 4 lanes open and no need to reach for my friend Carl.

But returning home tonight, the sun was shining, the blustery winds over the weekend dropped and the garden just shone with promise. The second tulips are starting to flower; the hyacinths are hanging on in there; the grape hyacinths swarming across the (now) perfectly raised beds like an invasionary force. After a few seasons the cowslips are thickly carpeting the beds too, just as I hoped for at the drawing board stage of this garden.

The plum tree surrendered its blossom to the weekend's winds, but the apple blossoms have started into action to take its place. Even the black mulberry has at last begun to unfurl its leaf buds.

And standing at the french windows cup of tea in hand, I felt a lump in my throat, and that old familiar jiggle in my heart. Summer's on its way, and with it a little prickle of anxiety; have I left it too late to get all the seeds started off? What if I don't get those blasted paths sorted this year? What if, what if? Two cups of tea and a piece of lemon drizzle cake later my horticultural anxiety lifted as I considered the charms of plug seedlings from B&Q. I really do lead the life of Riley.