The Good Life

Last October we acquired a share in an allotment. In March, we spread some horse manure, and today we removed this year's weeds, broke up the surface with a hoe, and started planting. Onions, raspberry canes, chard, lettuce, pak choi, asparagus pea, and peas.

The social side of the allotment is fascinating. People are very friendly and, as we are the new kids (ahem) on the block, there is plenty of advice on offer. In conversation with one experienced old hand, I made the mistake of mentioning Monty Don, which brought a disapproving long intake of breath and a "I'm more of a Beechgrove Garden man myself. Proper ordinary gardening - none of this fancy country house estate stuff." I was politely but firmly put in my place.

I noticed that most plots have two plastic garden chairs - for welcoming your guests. We must get ours. I had joked earlier with Madame that it would be no time before we would be having champagne receptions at our plot. Then one of our friendly plot-neighbours (I made that term up) told us that there was an amount of wine-drinking went on, and on weekdays too. I don't think she meant home made from grapes grown there. Mercifully.