SPRING has sprung, the sun's reared it's head at last, and with it comes the gardening season and the annoying hum of lawn mowers.

I must admit I like a nice garden, it's the toil that I'm not too keen on.

I've already potted some cuttings and seeds and pruned my rose tree on a stick. I've washed some pots and jardinaires, deported some baby slugs to the back fields and released some wood lice and ladybirds.

What I shan't be doing this year is planting any tomatoes. I can't see the point?

Last year I labouriously nurtured and tended 10 plants, but it cost more in shoe leather walking to and from the greenhouse than it does to buy mountains of the fruit at the supermarket - and they're no better.

Has the lovely Titchmarsh sent us all gardening loopy?