The title of the post reflects a week with more below the surface than above it. I have decided to write another book, or rather, another book has declared its presence, a bit like getting pregnant. So research stepped up a bit, as it does when it’s got a direction. The snow melted. This is one year when we will not get sick of daffodils since most of them have been mashed flat, poor things, but most of the tulips weren’t far enough along to suffer notably. On the whole, spring is resuming its course. The level in the pond continues to fluctuate in a mysterious fashion, doubtless entirely unconnected with the fact that it must’ve occurred to many a farmer in Aberdeenshire that with water so scarce in the South, potatoes are going to be a high value crop this year …We had a diplomatic visit from Barnyards: the big trees on his side of the track have Dutch Elm Disease and will have to come down. We made a decent pretence of believing him: he’s been wanting those trees away for years. I will be sorry to see them go.

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