This week has been devoted to the paperwork for one of the courses I'm teaching - why are there always more urgent things to do than writing? In the meantime I fret about the plot of next book, principally because I can't actually look at it!
I dug up the Pink Fir Apples yesterday evening and they look great - one of them twisted itself round the root of a broad bean and is the very shape of a small bird perched on a stone. Where's That's Life when you need it? It was a beautiful evening: the swallows seem to have departed, having been extraordinarily noisy on the telegraph wires last week, but it was calm and mild and sunny up to sunset. In a neighbouring field are two little (relatively) Highland calves, which look as if they're wearing woolly trousers.
I also managed, in the briefly dry weather, to harvest a load of herbs from the garden and dry them in the oven. One hour at the lowest gas mark and they were perfect - and the house smelled fantastic! Much better than fresh coffee.
Still can't find the maps ...