Yikes, and it’s April already. Whatever happened to March? My only excuse is that work in the garden has rather overtaken me. It was a tall order to think I could re-plant all my plants in a more welcoming soil; re-pot and feed my containers, including a porchful of succulents; and re-site the grass paths that have wandered off-course in the orchard.

On sunny days, there’s nothing better than working outside, with my bantams scrabbling away in the backs of the border and my poor old cat enjoying the sunshine on a bench. But six weeks on, I seem to have RSI in one of my fingers, have suffered two bouts of something nasty from my grandson Etienne, but most of the initial work is done, with only the vegetable garden to conquer and usual seasonal tasks.

The motive behind this madness is our group opening for the NGS in June. All over Whitstable, gardeners are regretting their decision to participate. None of us seem to have established gardens, so it’s the usual attempted transition from pig’s ear to silk purse. It’s only the niceness of NGS visitors that makes us think this has the possibility of success.

Back at the computer, I’ve written about garden bloggers, garden clubs, asparagus, my new hens, wildlife gardens and pollinating insects for the Telegraph; the wonderful Charlotte Molesworth for Gardens Illustrated and several chapters for a new book for Pavilion publishers. I’ve also seen a lot of my family who’ve been renting their house for Air B&B and coming to stay here.