Outside it looks as if it could almost be snowing. There is a light white blossom coming off the trees and as it drifts across the garden it looks like plump snowflakes taking us back to winter.

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But the sun is out and it is even giving off some heat when it can get from behind a cloud. And if we need further proof that it is summer the first member of the family has now landed in Ahakista.

Kristen drove across yesterday and is there for almost three months working in The Good Things Cafe.

I have written elsewhere on here about The Good Things Cafe. I don’t think we went the year it opened in the old butterfly house but we have eaten there every year since. There is a useful correlation in Kristen working there now probably doing the sort of summer job I should have been doing thirty or so years ago. I am tempted to put my hand up and say ‘I can do that’.

By way of compensation I thought I should cook something for myself this evening. I settled on lamb with tomatoes and peas from one of the Moro cookbooks.

There was something very pleasing about the bright green of the peas against the brown stew.

Despite the grey clouds of yesterday we have had no rain. The sun has been out but only briefly and when I tried to sit out in it I only lasted five minutes before coming back inside out of the chill.

But the poppies are out by the front door and the tarragon is growing well. We had the tarragon with a roast chicken this evening.

I can remember the first time I had chicken with tarragon. The family had gone for a day trip to Windsor and we found ourselves in a restaurant for lunch that looking back now I suspect was rather smarter than what was required. I had chicken breast stuffed with a tarragon butter.

I think today’s chicken was better. I put a couple of sprigs of tarragon inside of it and then put my hand through under the skin over its breast and worked through a mixture of butter, tarragon and garlic.

We had it with just boiled potatoes and peas and it was very good.

Perfect food for putting the Saturday night behind us. A night that had been spent propping up strange bars wearing a good hat.

Saturday morning and the sun has gone in.

There were a couple of days last week you could have persuaded yourself that summer was here. Of course I spent those days sat at my desk in an office and the summer was seen second hand through a thick layer of glass. But it was clear that the sun was shining and those bits of the Mersey I could see turned silver in the light and the sky was clear and a flat blue.

Today the temperature has dropped and the sky is grey and heavy. Thundery rain is predicted. There has already been a shower last night and outside the grass is slick with wet. At least I won’t need to worry about watering the garden over the weekend.

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It had started to cloud over last night but it was dry so I found time to light up the small barbeque to cook a couple of steaks. Because there wasn’t much time I put them on the barbeque too early. They cooked fine but the coals then reached their optimum heat twenty minutes after we had finished eating them. We had the with Royal Jersey potatoes and rocket from the garden.

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Listening to Rocket from the Crypt. Double turbo charged mindless rock’n’roll mayhem. Perfect for a Friday evening.

And now half an hour later some of the grey clouds are moving and there is a hint of blue sky and sun in the garden.

You can tell a man that has been to Brighton by the quality of hat he is wearing.

I was there for just over twelve hours but still found the time to find a hat good enough to feel like an old friend less than two days later. We will see if it lasts the summer.

In between buying the hat there was time to go to a place called Hen that was selling nothing but chicken (apart from the halloumi burgers). Given that you would have thought they could have got it right.

A long time ago I went to a place in Madrid that sold nothing but chicken and cider. In my memory it is was an old church and we were all sat on benches and as the the cider was ordered the corks were flipped with a finger high up into the air. The vegetarian amongst us was reassured by the fact that they sold chips as well until it transpired that their version of chips was a packet of crisps.

Back in Hen the chicken came just too quickly to be reassuring. Ordering it I had been given a detailed talk through the difference between the fried and grilled chicken which sounded great. Ten minutes later I was left trying to work out how they would have had time to fit all that in.

And the come Sunday evening we had a barbeque:-

– pork stuffed with fennel chilli and garlic

– chicken marinaded in garlic and lemon

– beans with a tomato vinagrette

– small boiled potatoes with butter and chives

It all seemed to go down quite well.