Cameraderie
I feel like I’ve been accepted: I was invited to the allotment conservatory for coffee this morning. This sounds misleadingly posh – well we are in Cheshire darlings – where in actual fact it is some old lean-to that has been cobbled back together in the best allotment spirit. And a chocolate biscuit (a kitkat actually; I judged it best not to discuss the ethics of Nestle if I was to be invited back. And I secretly enjoy a kitkat as long as I haven’t paid for it).
My PSB is looking gorgeous and we are entering the time of year when I am convinced I’ll stay on top of it all next time. I have Plans (they’re multiplying). Next summer is bound to be less wet and T will be walking (I haven’t been able to take her for several months even if it hadn’t been raining: it’s one thing taking a stationary baby who will sit on a mat and play*, or a toddler who can run about in wellies, but quite another to contemplate taking a crawler) and I’ll just be able to get loads done. I got a good weedy bit (three barrowloads) cleared today while she snoozed in the car, ready for garlic, I think, or broad beans.
Good not to be too excessively tidy anyway – a bonus today when the “brambles” I have been eyeing with intent for, ooh, about a year now turned out to be raspberries! How fantastic is that. Only 4 berries, but that is 4 berries I hadn’t planned for.
In other allotmenty recycley news, I appear to have inadvertantly acquired 17 demijohns. Anybody want one?
*In theory.