It’s all about food. I remember talking to teaching colleagues in Kiev who were about to retire to their house in France and had such plans for waking each day and scanning through a Nigel Slater book and selecting an evening meal, then spending the rest of the day foraging around finding the ingredients. They might drive 100kms or so to purchase a lobster or whatever and in doing so they would have a lovely day. Rather like climbing the Munroes of Scotland. Those mountains are scattered far and near, and each trip and climb will take you off on a very different adventure. I have memories of Lochnagar in winter, Larven on Knoydart in the height of summer (where I lost my very good sunglasses) and so on. (I still have about 200 to climb!)

Anyway, after walking down the Water of Leith from Balerno and climbing trees and swinging from branches, to celebrate the joys of spring and retirement,

we were both knocked out by the pervasive aroma of wild garlic. We both inhaled deeply hoping its therapeutic healing properties would fight any wayward germs.

I later made a leek and garlic risotto…wonderfully delicious and drank down the remainder of the white wine necessary for the recipe.

John is on the war path. He is in sorting out mood, and bags are being assembled for the charity shops…and all excess is supposed to be turfed out. His side of the wardrobe is pristine, mine is chaos. I cannot bear the thought of parting with a particular jumper, just in case. You never know…I might need it. He has organised the cutlery, and the spoons are all lined up in military precision. I am afraid of using any. He is now focussing on my recipe books…This is NOT good. I did concede to throw out all my Good Housekeeping Christmas specials, and sat with scissors cutting out faves for ‘just in case’. This week I made a pile of these snipped out delights and made a menu plan…I may not be driving 100kms round rural France, but already in my pursuit of ingredients I have walked down by the river to Stockbridge for venison and duck, up through the Meadows to buy juniper berries and pomegranate. The weather is lovely, and I am seeing naked arms and legs, scarily white. People are actually casting the odd cloot but not for me, no way…I will keep my Cyprus sun tan firmly undercover for a few weeks yet.

I sat enthralled watching the snooker, gasping as the white kissed the pink, the black cannoned the reds, the shot was thick, the table was fast(!) and Ronnie O’ Sullivan stole the show.

Fond memories of Tasha and me in Tobermory, a couple of years ago, on the island of Mull, where we  stayed up all night with the local lads playing pool till 5 in the morning. I think we actually played a game of charades at some point.

We never did get back to our bed and breakfast.  Instead we sat by the monument and ate fresh buns from the baker’s shop and good strong coffee.

Now I must go and make the crab cakes and fresh pea puree. (Nigel Slater) It was a lovely walk to collect the lemon grass, mint and peas. And a glass of white, I think. Always a nice way to end a Tuesday.