My bungalow faces South. Stepping out of the front door at ten this morning it was warmer outside than it was inside. The first time this year when it has actually been warm - and it was glorious. All day the sun has shone. All day folk have been doing jobs around the place. Even I have wobbled up the steps to the top of the garden
to plant three bits of rock plants I have salvaged from my garden at the farm - rock alchemilla, sweet woodruff and viola labradorica. I hope they grow because I brought them with me from Wolverhampton in 1987 and these are snippets from the original plants so have happy memories.
Everyone seems to be studiously avoiding mentioning the Syrian conflict - perhaps the best way as I think we all feel rather helpless. It is only at times like this that we actually realise we elect our representatives to put forward our views in such times. And it is only with hindsight that things come truly into perspective.
Tess has been on a marathon walk with her friend Meg this afternoon. She has come back flaked out, eaten her tea and is now flat out on the carpet fast asleep. Feel a bit like that myself, so shall settled down to the Percussion section of Young Musician of the Year. I was stunned by the absolute perfection of the playing in the strings section last week - I hope I am similarly stunned this week.