Have you met Mother Nature? She's a rum old bird. I couldn't find a photo of her so here's one of Mama Cass .
Mother Nature, or "MoNat" as we affectionately call her, is a partner in our flower growing business. A sleeping partner, as it happens. She's out like a light. Comatose. And snoring like a pig. I think that she had a heavy Autumn or something.
Until she decides it is time to activate Spring, we will be unable to to fill the nation's vases with daffodils.
I was on BBC Breakfast this morning talking about the problems that are being presented to all flower growers by this abnormally long winter. I decided I should amplify this point by wearing an abnormally large fleece and having an abnormally bald head. I looked like a right old Fen goblin.
There is nothing like a TV camera for mangling one's self-esteem. My mannerisms were suprisingly fey. Do I ordinarily wave my arms around in such a flamboyant manner? I'm supposed to be a stout-hearted son of the soil.
My telephone has been red hot with "compliments" about my performance.