Relative normality has returned: although we have have one remaining patch of snow: I believe

it may be the last snowdrift in England (as of 3.00pm on Monday). It is remarkably unpicturesque - especially in comparison to Jodi’s collection of 78,000,0000,876,907,352,086 snowflakes artfully assembled around her house in Nova Scotia, honestly, these Canadians have no idea when to stop.

I have just returned from a severe muscular pummelling and am slightly gasping from the trauma: still anything that hurts that much has to good for one. As a result I am writing this instead of concentrating on mildly more important things like work.

If I was not a gardener, one of the things that I would quite like to be is the man who invents names for paint. This thought has been sparked off by a visit to Homebase - you would have thought I had learnt my lesson after my Tesco/Glade Air Freshener experience the other day but that would be too easy. Paint and Air Freshener names have a fair bit of common ground.

I met Intense Truffle, Mulberry Burst, Sapphire Springs, Red Stallion and Dehli Bazaar, all of which are courtesy of Dulux. Farrow and Ball have an altogether classier range of names including Savage Ground, Dead Salmon, Churlish Green, Pigeon, Mouse’s Back and Arsenic.

I could do so much better than that.

The world needs Aureola Dusk, Fidget Lank, Streamside Coupling, Teatime Carapace, Caravan Equinox, Roadkill Passing, Aubretia Dawn, Balti Pavement, Energised Prawn, Singing Husky, Puppy Crunch, Turtle Chiffon, Lentil Sonata and  Kute Kitty Krush.

But all of these are topped by Ford Cars who, in 1970, had colours called Counter Revolutionary Red, Anti-Establish Mint, Home on the Orange, Three Putt Green, There She Blue and, my personal favourites, Freudian Gilt and History Onyx. That is so brilliant.

What has this to do with gardening? More than you previously realised because this naming thing works not only for Glade and Dulux but also for plants. Some of them have equally silly names. I’m afraid that you lot across the pond are particularly to blame: you did, after all invent Echinacea Mac ‘n Cheese and Echinacea Tomato Soup.

But there is also Iris Toucan Tango,  Hydrangea Pinky Winky (which is so very undignified for the plant), Heuchera Key Lime Pie (and Petite Pearl Fairy which makes me shiver), Rosa Oso Easy, Gladiolus Cute Munni (there is no room here for a slip of the tongue) and Primula Twilly Touch Me (if he does then I am going to slap him very hard).

Then when you get into common names anything goes: there are plants called Chicken Gizzard (Iresine herbstii - a hideous red leaved thing), Flossflower (nothing dental but an Ageratum: another horrible plant), Pig Squeek (Bergenia), Pussytoes (one for Yolanda) and the fantastic Radiator Charlie’s Mortgage Lifter Tomato (which has a great story).

Why no plant called Viburnum okapi Prolapse, Lupin Plump Gazebo or Petunia Quatro Formaggio ?

I could drone on for hours but I find that after a short while most people lose interest.

My copy of Gardeners World Magazine arrived this morning: in it there is a photograph of me with a ludicrous looking pudding bowl hairstyle. I assure you all that I have never had such a coiffure and it must have been photoshopped in after the event. I would reprint the picture here but that would just compound the situation.

This time last year I was on the selection panel for the Conceptual Gardens at Hampton Court

I am listening to Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No.1 in C, Opus 15: Rondo: Allegro Scherzando. The picture is of the firm leaden thighs of Diana the Huntress at Cottesbrooke.