Once I would have got into the car and driven a round trip of 120 miles to the grey Essex sea coast. But this Bank Holiday we went to the allotment.
Imagine, the familiar routine of putting a picnic together, packing the teabags and mugs and then loading petrol mower into hatchback, loading tools and welly boots and setting off. (If anyone protests, I would suggest they try pushing a petrol mower down a 1/10 slope and then up at the end of the day).
Arrived at allotment site. Technical hitch with petrol mower (don't ask). Thank you kind neighbours. Occupied self by digging out a barrow load of compost from the communal heap. Onwards to mowing, husband! Three plots with lush grassy paths in need of attention. Had lunch.
Here are some of the tasks I found to do whilst mowing took place elsewhere...
Moved some more 'random' red lettuce seedlings to new spot in our cool greenhouse.
Sowed a row of radishes.
Planted out and netted five rows of curly kale.
Sowed more cabbage in pots.
Sieved out the compost dug out earlier into pots for sowing later on.
Weeded (getting tired by now)
Lifted the blanket of horse manure from the top of the potatoes to check if they were sprouting and then covered them again.
Put straw round strawberries.
Pulled off frost blighted strawberry flowers (alas).
Late afternoon. Sat down under the damson with a cup of tea. The sun came out. The damson had set and the fruits were elliptical and green, no bigger than a zero on the keyboard. It wasn't raining (for the first time in about eight hours). This is why we do it, we said.
