I love Nasturtiums. I've always grown them, wherever I had a garden, and mum always grew them too, up a trellis. I like the more unusual colours, but last year's seemed mainly bog standard, all grown from my own seeds, but I did have ACRES of them. Such a small thing, yet they bring me great pleasure.
I am easily pleased. A new book will do it for me every time - it doesn't even have to BE new, just new to me, and a subject that interests me. I love trying out a new recipe; tidying up the garden; planting seeds; a wonderful painting or a piece of antique furniture; looking round an old house or castle or a Museum; going for a walk; the company of friends; home made cake; a pair of earrings one of my daughters has made me. I can't understand people whose only pleasure is in retail therapy - buying yet another pair of shoes, or another handbag. Who on earth needs more than ONE handbag? Mind you, perhaps some people say that about books . . .