There is something very therapeutic about popping down the allotment to do a bit of digging. Admittedly not very much digging, but enough to make me feel that I had achieved something and to banish the feeling of gloom and frustration that had descended on me yesterday.
I took Lilly, leaving the Gabster at home. She has a little bit of a limp at the moment and she was comfortably stretched out on the rug. Best to leave stretched out dogs alone.
Lilly is getting used to Plot 45. She is beginning to see it as her ‘manor’. She had a good sniff around, checking out the various piles of rotting wood and vegetation before trotting over to ask me why there was no ball for her to play with.
I had forgotten it. Note to self, don’t forget her ball again. With no ball to play with, she feels the need to bother me. Of course she can’t dig, but she can sit and watch me and occasionally comment by way of a bark.
I had just finished another bit of digging, and was resting precariously on my fork, when Sue who has the allotment next door turned up.
We chatted about this and that but Lilly wanted to join in. Even after introductions, Lilly felt the need to bark at her every time she came out of her greenhouse. I apologised and secretly felt relieved that I had not brought the Gagster.
Sue who has had her immaculate allotment for six years gave me a little of the history of my tiny patch of weeds.
There had been quite a few owners. Some had had chickens and ducks, and some had even tried to grow things. But none of them had stuck at it and so gradually things had slipped back.
I explained that I had no grand plans. Just to gradually turn it into somewhere safe and interesting to go and grow things and hopefully harvest them.
A little later she gave me some purple sprouting, and offered to drop some potato plants over the fence that she had left ‘over’.
I have nothing to offer at the moment. But I will. Soon.