Year in the vines – part 17

As the bright winter sun rose over Appledore this week, a sheen of hoarfrost was slowly unveiled, twinkling across the Kentish côtes like glittery spray-paint. The countryside was thoroughly frost-bitten and before long, so were we – with the exception of the redoubtable Tom, of course, for whom the cold seemingly has no impact. This is because his heart pumps anti-freeze and his muscles are powered by hydraulic oil. I also realised this week that I’ve never seen him blink either, which proves he has bionic eyes and is therefore more cyborg than human, just as I always suspected.

Pruning...