I'm bored with it. The garden is a squelchy, soggy mass, from days on-end of rain. I've had to dash out between downpours this week to plant clematis (montanas Grandiflora, Rubens, and Elizabeth) and roses (Paul's Scarlet Climber, Coral Dawn, and Kriton - which is in fact Iceberg under another name - to smother parts of the new pergola, and Mr Lincoln, Jardins de Bagatelle, and something which calls itself Letizia, but which I suspect is really Silver Anniversary, in one of the beds at the end of the north lawn). No serious gardening...although, once things have dried out a bit, it should be very plain sailing to dig the three new flowerbeds - which are almost the last remaining task on my list of serious Winter to-do's. Once those are done, and we've reconstructed the fruit cage, and I've pruned the two remaining old apple trees, then I can get started on post-Winter tasks, like pruning the hydrangeas, and cutting back the pennysetum and the buddleias, which should be synonymous with the start of Spring.
And not a moment too soon, IMHO.
Luganega Sausage, in Brioche
Irish Stew (Richard Olney's version, which he claims is more French than Irish...and he certainly seems to think it goes better with Beajolais than with Potcheen)
Tarte à l'Orange (almost the last of this year's crop from the large orange tree outside the office window - which has kept us in fresh OJ every morning since before Christmas).