But I've had a breakthrough. As we were leaving the excellent Riverford Field Kitchen after lunch the other day, Papa Lovelygrey spied a suffering tray of herbs which looked like they'd be looked after by a fellow horticultural numpty. 'If you think you can rescue them, take them' said an employee. And we did.
Guess what? I haven't killed them off. An extra special trip to Trago Mills to buy potting compost followed and I've been remembering the H20 to boot. A fortnight has gone by and I've got the beginnings of a pot of mint, all ready add some zing to my cookery. I'm dead chuffed.
It seems the fridge god has heard of my new green fingered bent for he's also provided me with something to plant after a particularly long bruschetta free period. Tere's three quarters of a bag of soil left over so I'll rise to his challenge. Do you think that I might be eating home grown garlic in the months ahead?