A BREAK in the arctic weather means I can finally head to the allotment. I have it in mind that I will dig up parsnips to accompany the Sunday roast and possibly make more progress on preparing a bed but the fork almost breaks on contact with earth.

Decide that the hour is much better spent drinking tea and surveying, which I find is at least 50 per cent of successful allotmenting.

Come away all fired up. The dusty seed box is dragged out, again just to look at and the spring vegetable catalogue is flicked through with its promise of greatness to come.

Each year there is a new spin on an old favourite - a purple carrot or a squashkin, which apparently is a cross between a butternut squash and a pumpkin.

I am afraid that a squashkin is a step too far for me. Whatever next - a garlion or a cucumbette?

But don’t think that I am completely averse to change. I can live life on the edge. To prove it I will be attempting to grow mange tout this year in place of French beans. Radical stuff!

Husband too is embracing change this year. He announces that he is going to take up internet poker. This worries me on many levels but mostly because the only time I have seen him take a risk was when he opted for a cream horn in place of the usual doughnut when out shopping.

My son is also experimenting with new things. He asks to listen to some different music and says "what have the Beatles done?"

This is my cue to launch into a potted history of the fab four, ending with "they were probably the biggest band in the world." Son thinks about it for a moment. "What, bigger than McFly?" he asks.