Alice and Fergal gave me a lemon tree for Christmas. (As indeed Alice gave me the painting of sheep that is behind it.)

When they gave it to me it was highly trained with clips and ties on a bamboo trellis.

I was sure I had taken a picture of it in this state but it turns out I hadn't.

But yesterday I decided that I would release it and allow it to take on a more natural, bushy tree appearance this because, not only did I think I would prefer it, but I noticed that the training was so severe that some branches were splitting and not putting on new leaf.

And in doing this one of the lemons was so heavy on its released branch that it risked causing further damage to the tree.

So I picked it.

And having picked it I used it - and this is what prompted me to mention this here - I was astonished by the strength and intensity of its flavour.

I guess that I had vaguely anticipated that the flavour of a lemon grown indoors in - relatively speaking - a cold, dark and sunless Ireland would be less flavoursome than those grown in sunny climes.

Maybe it is that shop bought lemons are just as tasty when first they are picked but they have lost piquancy by the time they reach us here.