It's another beautiful Jo'burg day in London. The sky is blue from horizon to horizon. The weather is warming up now that the days are getting longer, but the air is still fresh. I understand why the poets rhapsodise about spring. This is not a season we have in South Africa. The trees are a vivid green you only see in picturebooks. Wordsworth also had a point about the daffodils. They're everywhere, and in all shades of yellow, cream, white and pink. Not, alas, in our garden.

I have cleaned the conservatory so we can have breakfast there in the mornings and enjoy the sunshine when we have it, and the view for the rest of the time.

The allotment has received considerably less attention.

Last year this time I was digging and composting. This year I don't have the energy. Not enough blood, I suppose. I'm going into hospital tomorrow to have one of the causes of that little problem sorted, but I will be out of action for more than a month as a result of surgery.

So unless I can find veggies that grow really quickly, looks like I won't have a harvest this year.