It’s always a comfort to see some light in the sky on opening the curtains in the morning, but we’ve a fair bit of winter to get through yet. I’ve planted out the last of the primulas we bought a while back, so the basket by the front door looks a bit more welcoming, and there is some more colour to be seen from the dining room doors. We have crocuses and snowdrops in flower, and there are signs of life on the cornus bushes. Neighbours' gardens are ahead of ours: daffodils in flower and tulips in good leaf. In one of them, when I was out for my walk this morning, a ceanothus was flowering. The latest to flower in our weed patch are the hellebores, and they are doing better than ever.
We’ve had a few sharp frosts, so I’d to take it a bit gingerly on my drive to the hobby one of those mornings. The bigger issue has been flooding: my usual route across the valley and over the Downs is very muddy and wet: there is no point getting the car washed at the moment. Near us, a tree came down last week on the way out of the village, falling away from the road, much of which it took with it. The road is still passable with one lane open: goodness knows when it will be repaired. The state of the roads is shocking at the moment, with deep potholes everywhere. As a friend said of a third-world country where she used to live, you can easily spot the drunk drivers from the fact that they drive in a straight line. I have wrecked one tyre already this year.
Martyn has been really quite poorly for much of January, but is at last eating well again, and feeling generally better. As for me, the damp weather is not helping my ancient joints, but if that’s all I have to complain about, I’ve a lot to be grateful for. I had a glass of champagne just after midnight on New Year’s Day, and thereafter no booze for the whole of January. My weight is down a bit - indeed, I can now get into a pair of jeans that have been too tight on me for some years!
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