Magic

I made a darned good risotto last night, simple but rich and delicious at the same time. It consisted of fresh prawns, broccoli, white wine, lots of garlic and lots of fresh coriander. I washed it all down with a glass of Waitrose own Chilean Sauvignon Blanc. Could have been The Fat Duck for all the difference. Eat your heart out Heston. I ate this feast in front of the television (I know!) watching a recording of The Voice. This kind of programme is not usually my thing, but somehow I caught a few minutes of the first episode and I've been hooked ever since. The singers are mostly extraordinary, the judges are lovely, and the whole experience is completely life-enhancing and affirming, a properly feel-good event. I don't really mind who wins. I just don't want the magic to end.

My vegetable garden, but not yet

Yesterday I conjured up more magic in the shape of fire. The jungle of felled trees and bushes which had bestrewn the bottom of my garden was just biding its time before self-immolating, but someone had to be the catalyst and that was me, with my friend the south-westerly. The discarded Christmas tree, which amazingly has still not shed any needles despite having languished in the garden since December 30th, got the thing going with a whoosh, though my practice of starting bonfires inside cardboard boxes where the wind is not an issue was used as backup. It was hard work, keeping the blaze fed, but I took my time and before two hours was up the whole lot had gone. Did is coming to chop up the branches for me, to add to my firewood stock. I'm feeling very chuffed, and also not wiped out as I was even yesterday after some small effort in the garden. There's still much to be done before the serious planting can take place. Keep that magic coming.