March stuff...

YUP, IT’S end-of-month blog time again. Hope everyone’s okay out there in cyberspace land. I’m not doing too badly, although my tum is still giving me a bit of gyp.

Spring has supposedly sprung – I just wish they’d remembered to let the weather know!

I ought to be busy with my vegetables, but I’ve not yet dared to. We’ve had such a string of cold, blowy days and heavily frosty nights that I doubt if anything will “take” at the moment.

Actually, I’m a bit in two minds about growing things again; last year was such a dispiriting wash-out I can’t help feeling it’s a waste of effort and money.

I heard on Gardner’s Question Time (BBC Radio 4, Sundays) the other week one of the experts say that there’s very little point in growing your own tomatoes and peas and green beans and potatoes – it’s cheaper to buy all that at the supermarket. Don’t go for the ordinary, try for the expensive and more exotic.

The problem with this is that I don't know how much more successful at growing the likes of courgettes and artichokes I’d be.

In any case I’m not sure how much My Good Lady and I even enjoy the taste of aubergines and celery and the like… so what’s the point of growing them?

I might give the veg a miss this year, and when the weather finally perks up, I’ll just fill my raised beds with flowers.

Meanwhile my experimental cookery sessions have grown apace – I seem to be doing them three times a week now.

Not always successfully, though, I must admit. Some of my stews and risottos and the like have proved less than enjoyable – or even edible… These one-pot recipes can end up a bit monotonous. We’re bored with them after the second mouthful.

Still my lamb curry tomorrow should be okay.

My Italian language learning has begun in earnest, and I find it a lot harder than my previous efforts in French were. Almost every word ends in tongue-twisting vowel.

MGL has been busy reading up about the area of this coming holiday, and she tells me that we’re more likely to find German spoken in our region – that, or some local dialect that not even native Italian speakers can comprehend.

Sometime I wonder if I don’t make a rod for my own back!

Arrivederci, ciascùno!