I was fondly viewing my gallant primula, despite their bedraggled winter state. I would never be without a few, even breaking my own rules (right plant, right place, no fuss) in order to grow these perfect small delights. As it is a large genus - some people contend that, alongside rhodies and roses, primula are one of the 3 great genera of the plant world, so there will be a potential primrose for just about every garden. Mine are mostly Europeans such as oxslips, and the common p.vulgaris (although I am in constant ferment over Asiatics such as secundiflora).

Specifically, the wonderful auricula has a profound historical and cultural resonance for me - a florist flower beloved of the northern English working class, grown in tiny pots (in equally tiny houses) by weavers, spinners and labourers and exhibited in a plethora of shows and societies across the industrial cities of Victorian England. But O, as with all treasures, they demand a level of devotion far beyond my usual slack and lacksadaisical gardening skills, but since I love them so intensely, I suffer the horrible trauma of my most feared garden pest - the hateful vine weevil.

There are few more heart-sink moments than discovering that green rosette of foliage is simply anchored by gravity rather than a skein of roots. Despite this dance with death occurring every bloody year, it would be unthinkable to refrain from growing these most iconic harbingers of spring, but fortunately, their porcelain beauty is upheld by a resilient toughness (which perfectly reflects the tenacity and passion of working class gardeners who grew these bright gems amid the drear of industrial England's 'dark satanic mills'.

So, time to tip out the little terracotta pots and access the damage - and it is usually very clear which plants have suffered the voracious chomping of the fat little grubs. I bare-root the plants by running them under a tap, tug away the tatty winter leafage, then repot in fresh gravelly soil, with a top-dressing of grit and a tender wish for the little green life to thrive.

There are not many garden delights as rare and precious as the first fragrant primulas to mark the turning away of winter. It takes considerably more than vine weevils to ruin the thrill of one of my most beloved plants.

I am sure I am not alone in growing a must-have plant which requires an effort and risk far beyond the usual. Do we consider the rewards outweigh the risks? Have we ignored sense and reason because we MUST have this plant or that...for reasons which may be bizarre, opaque and...well, unreasonable. Even slightly insane. I am not alone...am I?