At long last, I have organized some herbs in my garden, after years of putting up with bruised basil and wilted cilantro and mint in measly, expensive, environmentally unsound store-bought packets. These herbs would look sad and droopy, and even if they were perky when I bought them, they would commit suicide en masse as soon as I’d plucked the first handful, torn with grief at the fate of their brethren.

I had proud and ambitious plans. A lovely large white container from a deceased indoor plant was diverted toward the herby project. Potting soil was purchased and the neighbourhood scoured for the best potting-herb offerings.

Then, I got lucky. Tubs of already planted herbs of different flavours magically appeared at a store nearby, as if having heard my inner groans about the task at hand. The decision took two seconds, and a family of sage, rosemary, parsley, thyme, chives and spearmint had found a new home. Oh, what possibilities await!

I’ll still have to scout around for the oft-used cilantro, basil, fennel, dill, marjoram…