Morning all.
I hate gardening. All that fooling around with mud and worms.
I’ve had a garden for twenty years, and my position has always been that anything my wife didn’t want to do herself, I’d happily pay a man who can. But don’t ask me to get any more involved than reaching for the cheque book.
Then...
I saw a book called “grow all you can eat in three square feet”, and remembered Pat had said she fancied having a go at some veg. I flicked through the book, it looked good, and I bought it for her.
So there it is, sat on my desk, quietly singing to me...And I’m dipping into it more and more. And that raised bed made of sleepers looks like a good project. That’s not gardening, that’s woodwork. Honest.
Pat was delighted at my offer to build her a two meter by one meter raised bed, and I was quite happy doing something I enjoy. Woodwork. Not gardening.
But we need to know what to plant...That book is quietly singing again. And there must be a few websites...
So now we’re planting seeds in trays in a little cloche type thing. That’s not really gardening either, is it? Not sure what it is, but it can’t be gardening. And my new book. Yeah, sure, it’s called the RHS Enyclopaedia of Gardening...but it’s more like horticulture. And horticulture is science. Not gardening.
And then, we’re eating salad that we’ve grown. That’s amazing! I tell people at work, who say, “I didn’t know you were a gardener.” I look at them confused...I’m not a gardener!
And this bloke is telling me about his allotment, but I say I wouldn’t want an allotment for a few years. And he says that if I want one in a few years, I’d best put my name down.
It can’t hurt. The council website says the waiting list is 3-6 years. By then, I might be ready.
Three weeks later, and one week ago, I get the call, “Do you want to come and look at this allotment.”
What? No! I need another three years at least! “Yes, thanks, I’d love to!” ... Wait, who said that?
...
“Just sign here”...