'Tis the season for 'erbs and other bits of planty-most

A sudden, sly appearance by the elusive luminous thing sent me dashing for the digital: I've been meaning to ponder a moment on our new herb garden outside No.5 for a while now.

However we've lately been too busy trying to save the basil from hypothermia and wondering whether coriander really gets a thrill out of 24/7 Force Ten shot-blasting by aerial water-cannon.

I've been growing basil in those pots on the wall for a few years now as nothing beats whizzing the jolly old green stuff straight off the plant and into the pasta. But in response to a constructive prod from girlfriend Claire, it seemed a good idea to go a little further so I at last got around to installing the cute little old bench that someone gave me, reinstating the hanging baskets and building le truc en bois to make room for lots more pots.

So now we have basil, coriander, mint, rosemary, verveine and tarragon. I'm particularly intrigued by the tarragon as I shall have to dream up some new dishes to make with it; this of course will be fun as it doesn't take much to get me haring off down le chemin de nosh, adroitly dodging the steely ricochet of Branston pickle decoys to Oblivion and beyond (Wot?).

I suppose I could add chives but I'm not entirely sure what one might do to a chive, and I draw the line at parsley because I generally slash it up by the tonne and the resulting bloodshed outside the front door would be too much to bear.

So what of all this new-found enthusiasm? Perhaps it comes of living in so a fragrant village as Fa: Round here, you can find thyme, rosemary, sage and bay leaves merely by wandering up certain suspicious footpaths.

BEWARE: In times of rain these are the same footpaths that teem with savage, mud-tastic Eepees camping savagely. NB: Eepees cannot be grown in pots.