I have been lucky enough to be offered a patch on an allotment which I am a bit excited about. I went for a look see today and do you know what I was a little overwhelmed. Within ten minutes I was feeling like I was at one with the earth, and half an hour and a spot of light weeding later I wanted a roll up fag and a real ale. And I am NOT joking. Nor do I smoke.
The patch is hiding under some plastic sheeting with a pallet type thing on top and some more dirt and weeds, but underneath it looks jolly promising. Obviously I need to plan my crop so I have been learning about hard to grow carrots, which might be more correctly described as too feeble to be bothered to grow carrots, and I have marvelled at the great sprouting runners on the soon to be rampant strawberry patch. I have gloried at the mini caulis and the soon to be bulbous artichoke. There’s so much to look at you’d really just need to go up and sit down and take it all in.
Time flew by. I think that might be part of the point on an allotment. For my vague gardening efforts I was rewarded with a true taste explosion masquerading as an ordinary tomato and I have come home with a bundle of good-looking rhubarb. It travelled home with me, muddy and all, on the passenger seat and I can truthfully say the smell was heavenly. I am going to make a rhubarb crumble. Thank goodness I’ve got out of the fish pie.