Item number one on the list of things I plan to get done this month (absurdly long and in truth yet to be composed into one comprehensive entity) is to tidy/sort/bin/hide in another room, the mountain of “stuff” on my desk. Desk sounds very impressive doesn’t it? Are you envisaging a highly shined mahogany expanse, so broad I zip up and down the length in my castered smoker’s bow? Alas not. It is an old pub table, too small for its purpose, although this has not thwarted me in my mission to pile nonsense on every available millimeter. And some that aren’t available. Trying to find anything is like playing is a rather unstable version of Jenga. Attempting to tame this chaos was today’s job, although I am yet to venture beneath, that joy will be saved for another occasion. Amongst the weird, wonderful and sometimes diverting, I found a folded piece of paper. Knowing the enemy, I carefully opened it. Dahlia seed. As there are no accompanying notes, that is all I know. I suspect it is from a special dahlia, but other than that I haven’t got a clue. The seed are now safely filed away, in a packet marked Mystery Dahlia 2019. Sounds exotic. We shall see.