Just, just got the fruit trees in on time.
Planted this morning as sleet fell.
A braeburn, a bramley and my longed-for humbug pear have all been bedded down in well dug soil, primed with the world's stinkiest manure.
Roses pruned. Clothes changed (as it seems unfair to the Twelfth Night cast to have to be enthusiastic about a Maria sporting eau de manure).
Note to weather gods: you may now snow.