My cats have developed a passion for the padded paper sack my seed potatoes arrived in. The spuds had chitted nicely in the cold shed and I just planted them into potato growing bags (not an easy task with the plaster cast'd arm encased in a bin bag for protection); when I turned round, there were three cats in the emptied potato sack, just whiskers and gleaming eyes visible. Potato sacks make excellent places in which to pounce on your siblings, apparently.

My single tomato plant is growning happily on the living room window ledge at the moment, since it's too young and tender to withstand the gusty winds and bouts of hail and sleet we're enjoying today. I only have one plant because I don't like tomatoes myself, and the yield of one plant is sufficient for the partner's needs without producing a glut.

I have some borlotti bean plants on order which I'm expecting to arrive any day. This will be exciting as I've never grown beans before, but I'm told they're easy (hah! I was told that about sweet peppers and my plant grew one measly thimble-sized pepper) I chose borlottis because the speckled pods and beans are so pretty. Food should be as aesthetic as tasty, in my opinion.

On a completely different note, I've now watched the first four episodes of season 2 of Carnivàle, and the angst has set in about reaching the (premature) end. What a unique and stunning series! It's been a very long time since I have felt so drawn in and mesmerised by the lives of TV-fiction characters *sighs*