“Are you a Softie Walter, or female equivalent?” I asked my singing teacher, Nancy Nightingale. “No, I don’t mind getting wet and muddy at all” she answered with a trill.  “That is just as well” I replied.

Rain stopped play last week and I refused to let it happen again.  The weather folk at the Met Office had done a swerve overnight and “cloudy but dry all day” had morphed into “pouring with rain until later when it might just carry on raining anyway.”

But we had seed to sow and bulbs and tubers to pot up, and I wanted to get on.  So we soldiered on.  First we put together the plastic green house, a miracle of engineering.  Then we filled it with planted up dahlias, lilies and tigridia and pots of sown marigolds, sunflowers and cosmos.

I had given Nancy a comprehensive shopping list to get us started on the road to horticultural glory, which she had dutifully followed to the letter.  This list was not as complete as I first thought and there were a couple of omissions.  It is tricky when someone is starting from absolute zero, with not even a shed to have nothing in, no tools, no pots, no compost, no gloves, no nothing.

“Oh” I remembered “And you will need a watering can.” “Don’t worry” said Nancy “I’ve got one.”

This is the watering can.  A pink flamingo.  The water comes out of a hole half up its beak. Interesting.

We will have to get a more substantial one, once we get going and the border is planted. But in the meantime, this cheeky chap will be just perfect.