As Sinead O Connor once sang “I’m full of good intentions”. I am too, but they often fall by the wayside. It’s a theme of my life – orphaned good intentions.

So Friday night, with a busy Saturday ahead, not to mention an early start, I had planned to get all my stuff together for the following day and turn in quite early.

Needless to say, at something just before midnight I was fuddling around in the kitchen making sandwiches, whilst gathering secateurs and the like, whilst intermittently misplacing a glass of red wine, and listening to some old rubbish on the radio.

Consequently 6.30 came a little too bright and unwelcome, but by 7.45 I was on the allotment. But I wasn’t the first one there. I passed someone just leaving -I think they may have been down on the site burying a body or something.

It was deliciously sunny, but the site’s ever present chill wind, impelled me to crack on rather than sit for half an hour with a cuppa. I managed to get a reasonable amount done and it was very edifying to be leaving the site an hour and an half later just as other people were arriving. I cannot describe how strong the desire was to return their greeting of “Morning” with the reply “Afternoon“, but it was only just gone 9.15 so that might have been taking the piss a bit too much.

On to college for a RHS3 practical day, which was amusing enough. I didn’t as well as I should have on the plant ident, which annoyed me, but the fact is my heart wasn’t in it. How could you not yearn to be outside on what was the best day of the year so far?

How most of the class stayed indoors at lunchtime mystified me, but then people generally do.