So, I’ve partially made the transition from old house to new. To put it in a more precise manner, the shit that used to inhabit various crevices and storage spaces in my old abode now sits in the middle of my living room awaiting organisation and sorting.

My herbs, on the other hand, took pride of place when it came to getting things set up. It would seem that they now occupy that special place in my heart usually reserved for a dog, cat, or dancing cactus. The first thing to be done upon moving to my new place was to transplant mint, parsley and italian parsley into my new garden. Other herbs remain in their pots, persistently nagging at my mind whilst I’m away from home – “come home Jimmy; plant us, care for us…”

Additionally, the huge tuft of lemon grass just begs to be hacked at – for purposes of rejuvenation, land clearing and anger management. Given that I’ve barely used the herbs in recent times, they have almost taken on an oddly ‘sacred’ position in my reckoning- much like the collection of china that is destined never to be used and will present no more than a platter of dust.

So here’s to my garden taking off like wildfire, me purchasing more utensils than the current solitary wok in my possession, and a happy, wholesome and herbsome new home.