BEING a journalist, every day is different.

But if I were to experience, for whatever reason, some kind of Groundhog Day, I think I would choose the job of interviewing Ronald Blythe to be mine.

I never tire of it, because there's always something new with Ronnie, and yet, rather wonderfully, also something comfortingly constant.

I'm back to chat to one of the country's most brilliant nature writers because the 93 year-old has a new book out, In the Artist's Garden.

And that's exactly what I find myself looking at when I arrive.

You see, I'm early, and Ronald isn't quite ready yet, and so while he finishes dressing I get to enjoy his surroundings, the cottage where the great artist John Nash once lived, and where Ronald now resides, as well as their beautiful garden.

It's almost like stepping into one of his weekly Church Times columns. As I wait in the kitchen I can see his cat in the front room getting ready to pounce from the back of a chair to its bowl on the sideboard. Soon the delicate crunch of the cat eating its breakfast fills the quietness, providing a rather humorous soundtrack to the bucolic garden vista before me.

It's wild and exciting at the moment, bursting with life, as well as primroses and forget-me-nots. Tulip bulbs stand tall like proud sentries, while the rambling rose bushes do exactly that as they wistfully wander the garden.

Soon I'm joined by the great man himself and after the offer of a cup of coffee is greatly received, we sit down in the kitchen and talk. I'm in journalist heaven!

In the Artist's Garden is the ninth collection of his Word from Wormingford columns, which he has been writing for the Church Times for more than 20 years.

"I started the column quite by chance," Ronald tells me, sat in an old wooden chair grasping his cup with both hands. "I was working at Church House in Westminster when a lady there suggested I should write for the Church Times and really that's how it came about, as simple as that. I've been doing it ever since, these little 400 word columns, partly natural history, part soliloquy.

"Now a publisher collects these little essays and brings out a book every now and again, which is rather nice. They've done quite a few now and they're usually done rather well."

As Ronald goes on to say they're written upstairs in his study 'usually in pen, sometimes on a typewriter'.

"I don't have a computer," he smiles. "Then I post them off. Occasionally the editor might phone me and I will read her the column over the phone. She's very nice indeed but I've never met her."

Ronald's latest collection of short pieces demonstrates once again how involved and connected he is to life outside the peace and quiet of his house and garden.

Connected to history, to literature, to the life of the church and to the many friends who visit. He writes of nature and of the small wonders of village life; the Wormingford flower show, the discovery of an ancient axe head in a local farmer’s field or visiting the Minories art gallery in nearby Colchester.

Born in Acton, near Lavenham, Suffolk, Ronald is perhaps most famous for his book Akenfield, which was later made into a film by another good old Suffolk lad, Sir Peter Hall.

"I remember there was a book published about the life of a Chinese village," he says, "and how it was changing quite dramatically and that got me to thinking about the village where I grew up. So I came up with the name Akenfield, there are about 30 villages with the word field in them in Suffolk, and I knew a bit about ploughing, and bell ringing, and of course the people who lived in my village, and I started to write the book.

"Peter Hall was born in Bury St Edmunds and he somehow felt the theatre had taken him away from Suffolk, which is why I suppose this book resonated with him so much."

As well as providing the inspiration for the film, Ronald also ended up appearing in it.

"Peter wanted it to be as authentic as possible," Ronald adds, "and so he cast many of the villagers from the area, apart from the local clergyman, who was Irish, so I borrowed his robes and I became the vicar."

And there are plenty of more stories like this one, such as the time he was working for Benjamin Britten at the Aldeburgh Festival and the author E M Forster shoved a note under his door asking him to go for a drink.

"Just a glass of sherry," he says, "nothing to eat. But he was an extremely pleasant old man with a surprisingly young voice. I must admit I didn't think it proper to ask him to sign one of his books but I kind of wish I had."

Music, art and literature have permeated Ronald's world throughout his life and I suspect that is why he writes so eloquently. It has been said he paints pictures with words and when I suggest this he appears to be very happy with the description.

"I think it was the freedom of being an artist," he reveals, "as well as the smell of turpentine and paint, that naturally enthralled me to it. Before I got introduced to any artists I used to go to a lot of exhibitions."

His introduction to that world was through Christine Nash, John's wife, who Ronald met at Colchester Library, where he worked at the time.

Later, Ronald would go out with John keeping him company as he painted the surrounding countryside, which the painter jokingly referred to as the Highlands of Suffolk and Essex.

In the evenings, Ronald would then read to them in the front room, which still holds a healthy collection of books today.

Patricia and John in turn introduced him to a whole host of other local artists such as Wivenhoe couple Denis Worth-Miller and Richard Chopping, as well as Cedric Morris and Arthur Lett-Haines, who ran the East Anglian School of Art at Benton End in Hadleigh, Suffolk.

There Ronald met the likes of Lucien Freud and a young Maggie Hambling.

"I liked the idea of being an artist," he adds, "and I liked being with them, which is why I used to go and see them all the time. Artists like Denis and Dickie were very exciting people to be around. Something was always going on."

And then it's time to go.

When I first entered Ronald's delightful cottage I noticed, inside, by the back door, a neat row of garden tools, waiting for their master, and I realise, although I'd like to stay all day, I'm probably keeping Ronald from what he loves best.

We say our goodbyes and I make my way back up the winding stone track to the main road hopeful that I will return soon, which judging by the writer's prolific work ethic, will almost certainly be very likely indeed.

An Artists Garden is now available in all good bookshops priced £14.99.