You know that feeling of frustration when you've filled out an online form and, hitting the wrong button, wipe the lot? And you have to go back over it and painstakingly re-type your postcode, and phone number, and Visa number... And then it happens again.

Sometimes that's how my life feels.

At the moment, I am mostly thinking about the cold. It is May - loveliest, greenest, most radiant and promising of months; my favourite. But it is freezing, and in my spring wardrobe I feel like a flower struck by late frost. I have decided that I actually prefer heartache to cold. I prefer crippled feet, and an empty bank account, and Saturday nights in alone - in fact all of the bad things that happen to me are better than being cold. When I walk home in the early hours and the loneliest streets, I am less afraid of being mugged than I am of shivering myself to death. Snake blood, my mother says.

But the evenings are longer and I am in love with the promise of summer; my imagination is all wrapped up in sunshine and warm lawns and cool drinks. I have also started my very first garden. Gertrude Jekyll herself would be impressed; this is going to be the Kew Gardens of 8 foot patio spaces... To open my curtains in the morning and see a dozen pansies winking up at me is nothing short of miraculous for a girl who once killed an airplant. And yes, they do wink - my flowers are saucy little minxes...