The great thing about traditions is there’s nobody around to contradict them

call any bumble bee crossing my path by their familiar north-east nickname – foggie bummer. Stout, cosy foggie bummers are feeding heavily on clover too and we’ve had plenty coming to the garden to feed on geraniums and a ceanothus which both have blue flowers, supposed to be a great attraction to bees. What’s surprising is that I’ve seen hardly any honey bees, and I know that there are hives locally. And I’d like to see more butterflies.

It’s a good year for wild flowers. Ox-eye daisies are carpeting some of the fields of oil seed rape. The rape’s yellow blossom has died away and the seed pods are forming and the big, white ox-eye flower heads contrast vividly with the deep green of the rape. Stately pink and white foxgloves add colour to the roadside verges and the woodland margins. Out last thing with Inka the air is filled with the spicy, aromatic scent of honeysuckle growing in the hedges. Regular readers know it’s my most romantic scent and I take bunches of the flowers home to the Doyenne.

I just about trod on the tail feathers of a mallard duck which exploded out of tall grass at the edge of a field. Once I’d recovered my wits I watched her fly in a wide circle round the field, calling softly. I reckon I’d disturbed her when I went into the field and she had walked ahead of me in the tall undergrowth.

A common deception trick to protect ducklings is to feign an injured wing and flap off in front of a predator, quacking loudly. Once she’s drawn the predator away, the duck flies off while her ducklings remain concealed.

The north-east is renowned for the quality of its raspberries. It’s to do with the soil and the climate and I’m told only Czechoslovakia can match the conditions and grow comparable fruit.

A favourite breakfast in our household is to cut a Galia melon in two, scoop out the seeds and fill the cavity with raspberries.

The contrast between the sweetness of the melon and the sharp zing of the rasps is sinfully delicious.

Truly an offering fit for – well, a Doyenne. Isn’t it lucky melons come in two halves.

“