There’s nothing like giving someone a jar of homemade jam at Christmas to make you come over all Barbara Good. You feel like you just stepped out of a Country Living feature and the recipient can only enjoy it, can’t they? Well, only if it’s decent jam…

The advantage of a raspberry harvest is that, unless they have crampons and head for heights, the mice cannot get them. This is the state I have found myself in: measuring the worth of our summer fruits almost entirely by their ability to withstand nightly raids from mice. Because the mice are legion this year. And now they are strawberry connoisseurs too, more’s the pity. Still, they haven’t sussed the summer fruiting raspberries…

The drizzle has set in. The mud is endless. When it isn’t raining the mire freezes rock hard so it’s treacherous underfoot either way. A chill wind whips around your jacket collar and down your back. Scarf tales, helpless, just get blown about your face. Even the dog shivers. We are in the depths of the Hungry Gap: the long, cold, soggy stretch of the year when the winter crops are virtually spent and spring seemingly a lifetime away. But not in Yorkshire.