Ah once again.

It is with the utmost bonhomie that I am able to share with you another of my kindly deeds – this time an earthy tale of toil and soil featuring that unbridled goddess of gardening, Charlie Dimmock, who had the good fortune of bumping into me one rainy day last week at the Beeb.

Well – poor Charlie was in one hell of a state, worrying herself witless about some tools she had left out in the rain. I have to say chaps, the thought of poor Charlie’s equipment all wet and defiled was more even than I – calm as a babe and as true – could withstand. I knew just what she needed.

Tools of the trade:
Manners
Breeding
A good length of hose
Wellingtons
Waterproofs
Sheaths

Sweeping Charlie up in my arms I ran through the maze of corridors, her gasps and girlish delight fuelling my strength as we went, the pair of us laughing and laughing like children in love until we reached the BBC gardens. I kicked the door open and set Charlie down.

Slipping into Charlie’s boots and waterproof (the perfect fit!) I ventured forth into the midday rain, my mind keenly focused on nothing but Charlie’s desires.

I fetched up a nearby hose and began to itemise the damage. There was one shovel, with its handle in a puddle on the path; one rake, half lying in the mud; and a trowel, seemingly unharmed. And then I saw it - lying there, half buried in the mire - an absolutely filthy, unbelievably dirty little hoe, literally caked in mess.

Here was my chance for a manly display and I seized it, unleashing my hose on full blast in order to wash the thing down, a silvery crescent arc of water splashing against Charlie’s pride and joy as I grimaced, my shoulders thrown back and my head high.

It was while I was engrossed in this act that some of the muck splattered onto Charlie’s face – just missing her eye and trickling into her mouth and running down her chin. I urgently apologised but - well, bless me! Charlie didn’t seem to mind it at all!

Afterwards, as I brought the clean tools indoors and propped them up against the wall, Charlie asked me whether I’d like to come back to her place and spread some seeds in her secret ginger garden.

Good Heavens! Naturally I made my apologies, expressing polite surprise at Charlie’s off-screen Chinese root vegetable activities, and – bidding her a fond adieu – I rushed off down the corridor as fast as I could go.

On this occasion gentlemen I can assure you, the pleasure was all mine.

Pop back soon, do.

N.H.