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They may be plants I have never heard of, plants whose possibilities I am only just beginning to appreciate, plants (such as hostas) that perhaps I have been slow in coming to admire. Until this season, it has been covered by the sweeping branches of a Cornus tridel, now severely cut back As soon as I saw the cyclamen, I knew they would work there They would not mind the shade. They would fit comfortably among the clumps of lily of the valley, tucked underground now while the cyclamen is happily doing its stuff.A list can deal with the things I know I need: two more fan-trained pears to complete the enfilade along the south wall; four box balls to plant in the ivy that edges the path on the bank. These cyclamen look frail, being only three or four inches high, but they are survivors, and undemanding. They will motor all season on a handful of bonemeal.I did not need that cyclamen, but it has certainly given me more pleasure than the necessary compost (Levington Multipurpose, pounds 5.50 for a 75-litre sack) I had been thinking about a bare corner by the back door.

Who could possibly resist its rounded leaves, symmetrically marked with silver? Its first magenta bud is already beginning to open. I’d be unlikely to scoop up something huge and important, such as a tree, on a whim, but that leaves plenty of room for impulsive manoeuvre among herbaceous perennials and bulbs.Only this week, I went into the garden centre for compost and came out with a delicious little cyclamen coum (pounds 3.49). You go in thinking of nothing but a bag of self-raising flour and come out with a jar of lemon- stuffed olives, a carton of apple juice with mango and an oven cleaner that promises (but never delivers) miracles.
But though I may resent my own weak mindedness when I am wandering the supermarket’s aisles, I positively encourage it when I’m among plants in a nursery Different standards apply I want to be led astray. Who wants to battle with January sales when they could be cruising peacefully through their local garden centre, dreaming of forget-me-nots (pounds 2.25 for a tray of six) or the possibilities of a clutch of flowering pansies (pounds 1.99 for a tray of six). The best way to save money in the garden is to make a list of what you want and stick to it That is true of all shopping, of course It is one of the reasons why supermarkets are so dangerous. Nevertheless, I hang on to the conviction that seeds and plants remain one of the most miraculous bargains that money can buy. Cameras do act as a deterrent, but they cannot monitor every lane in the country.What about making road rage a criminal offence, for which the penalty would be permanent disqualification from driving? That at least would remove from the roads people with a congenital inability to control their temper, whether in the country or in the town..

What does it actually cost to keep a garden going for a year? I don’t really want to know the answer, but the relentless arrival of brown envelopes on the mat brings finance into focus at this moment. Humps in the road render life intolerable for people who have to use lanes regularly. The real difficulty is to make people drive slower when the narrow and twisty nature of the road demands it. As Rural Hell clearly demonstrates, the slightest enforced deceleration is enough to precipitate road rage.”You made me SLOW DOWN!” roared one motorist who, beside himself with fury, head-butted another after being impeded for a few seconds.So what can be done? More speed limits would make little difference, as they are so widely ignored. That would merely increase speeds still further, make life yet more perilous for locals, and remove a feature that contributes most strongly to our countryside’s character.

No parent today would countenance a scheme so fraught with every kind of peril: abduction, accident at pick-up point or on the highway, theft of cycles during the day.The answer to the problem is not, as some authorities believe, to widen all lanes and turn them into A-roads. The result is that lanes are becoming increasingly dangerous and unpleasant, especially when commuters use them as rat-runs because main roads have become intolerably congested. Ugly new houses may disfigure villages, but it is fast-moving vehicles that make them hazardous.When I was a boy, living in an isolated farmhouse, my sister and I used to ride or push our bikes a mile across country and leave them unsecured in a hollow beech tree beside the main road at the point where we caught the school bus. They walked to work, to the village shop, to church, to the pub Children walked to school and back. People grew most of their own food: a visit to the nearest town was an adventure In other words, they were static, rooted in one spot. Footpaths and narrow lanes could easily accommodate such traffic as they created.Today their successors are constantly on the move, hurrying to work, ferrying children to school, rushing to catch a train, hurtling to the supermarket, the gym, the doctor Everybody drives without a second thought.

Why, then, worry, if new houses are built?The answer is that country people’s habits have changed entirely. In the 18th century they had no form of transport except their feet and possibly a horse and cart. The populations of many villages, she pointed out, used to be far higher than they are now, and during the past couple of centuries, hundreds of cottages have simply disappeared with the run-down of rural employment. But everyone was aware that on the first day of the year few motorists were out and about.Along the way somebody asked why so much fuss is being made about the construction of new houses in the countryside. For most of our seven-mile circuit we were on footpaths; when we did have to take to roads, the traffic was mercifully light, and drivers were courteous. She has not ridden since; but, as she remarked with understandable bitterness, the man who hit her got seven points on his licence and a fine of pounds 200, and is still driving around.On New Year’s morning a group of us, 40 strong, walked out from the village. Before she could take evasive action, she was flat on her face on the Tarmac, 20 yards farther on, and her horse had been smashed to the ground with its back and both back legs broken.