Gardening is one of my favourite hobbies.

And it is a hobby rather than anything I could remotely think of doing as a career. After all, although I always enjoyed it I was never really good at getting the plants or shrubs to their perfect state. In fact, they were often in a state after only weeks under my care. Still, I never let that little thing stop me.

And here, in Milan, it’s no different. Well, that’s not entirely true. We don’t have a garden so, in fact, it’s not the same at all.

When we were last in the UK, we went to Woolworths for chocolate and DVDs. And I saw seeds so, as they’re so cheap, I thought I’d buy some. All were flowers, mostly that had scent – sweet peas, that sort of thing – since that’s what I like.

My simple-minded thinking was that I would give them a try because, at the very worst, they would sprout, hang around for a bit and then die, allowing our balcony to return to its “half-dead state” once again.

So, a little while ago, I planted the seeds in the window boxes that we inherited, kept them on the floor of the balcony to give them a chance and watered them daily. They favoured my watering charms and sprang forth just like, well, erm, plants.

My plan was that, on 1^st May I would put them in their proper place, overhanging the railings of the balcony, where they would trail and droop, giving us a screen from prying eyes, being pretty and allowing a stunning waft of scent through the back door directly to me when I’m sat at the computer.

I was a day late putting them “out” since it also meant a good spring-clean of the balcony. However, that’s done now. I can now, I thought, sit back and look forward to the riot of colour and smell that will soon be a talking point of our balcony (and the lady with the terrace downstairs as when I water them they inevitably pour forth the excess water directly outside her windows).

So, yesterday afternoon, I spoke to J on the phone and decided that I should sit out there now that it was clean and lovely and had green things everywhere.