Last Saturday was one of those lovely, slow, cosy days that was so good that you still feel the warmth from it throughout the week.

One of those days when much seemed right with the world.

It began with Little Boots and I loitering around the homestead, both of us lacking the energy, or interest, to get galvanised and do anything. In truth I was unable to do much because of wrecked rib-muscles due to five weeks of coughing.

I spent most of the day on the sofa. After reading the paper, the post had arrived, including my RHS certificate (which I rather smugly smiled at), along with a number of books I’d ordered for the next course module.

Shortstuff was having one of those days that small children sometimes do where, after a long week of school, all they want to do is noodle fairly quietly about the house with their favourite toys.

We ventured out briefly to our local nursery to pick up some compost and seeds. Little Boots demonstrated a keenness to support local business, by insisting (as usual) that we buy some flowers. At first I said no, but can never hold out for long. I mean, what can you say when your child is hell-bent on acquiring plants? We bought a small potted chrysanth with claret flowers. But then the munchkin spotted the bulbs.

Oh, the bulbs.

After much too-ing, and fro-ing over selection, the junior gardener chose snowdrops. I suspect this was for two reasons. They were the first ever flower LB was able to identify, and secondly because they had that fascination that small things do for small children. I think it’s a scale thing. Grinning I suppressed the urge to explain that they don’t do as well when planted as bulbs, largely because, the previous choice had been a huge bag of ghastly daffs.

We also bought some logs and returned home to make a fire and cooch up on the sofa and watch Jurassic Park.

It was pretty idyllic.

But not quite idyllic enough for Little Boots tho’, who decided it was more interesting to sort a pile of conkers into matched pairs, and then sellotape them together, for reasons that were explained to me but I still can’t grasp.

A week later and, with Little Boots away on half-term hols, the warmth of that golden day is keeping the chills of separation away.

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