We used to spend sundays in the garden, with neighbours either side in theirs we'd talk over the fence, swap vegetables and dig, plant and make our gardens beautiful. But since I started working on sundays all this has stopped, and the weather hasn't been conducive to a good day's gardening for a long time - until Saturday, that is, when I took the brave step of going out and digging. I can't however take all the credit for this hard work, the glorious 2 hours were spent digging in tandem with my husband, who got just as much out of it as I did (and he's not usually one who enjoys it).

I dug with a spade, with a fork and with my hands. The smell of soil, that primal feeling of being close to nature and to the world was a very wonderful feeling. The robins and blackbirds constantly singing in the background and the squirrel leaping from branch to branch. In amongst the weeds we found a meal's-worth of potatoes, chard and forgotten onions!

Most of all it felt exciting, because I hadn't paid the garden much attention in the last few months, and me being the procrastinator that I am, I'd just let it go. But it all looks much nicer now, still 3 more beds to tackle.

When all the weeds had been cleared, I noticed this little fella, a tiny, stunted pea plant.

An escapee from last year's crop had made it through the winter even though they are very delicate plants and can't withstand any cold at all. And look, there is a perfect little flower, and one perfect (although empty) little pod. Needless to say, that is perfect proof that the world has gone to pot, and that climate change is something to be worried about.

But I have now "officially" been bitten by the gardening bug again and can't wait to get back out there (hopefully later this week) and start hanging washing out on the line again (yes, it is still January!) and start the arduous task of digging 3 enormous beds and fertilising the soil.