As Sick as a Parrot

Phew. Hardly know where to start this week. First, within two hours of touching down at Gatwick after a trip to Angola, H was rushed to hospital with suspected malaria. A highly tense week ensued during which time I managed to pull the curtain rail down on my head in the living room and detach the bathroom cabinet from the wall, as well buying over 15 items from QVC (one of the symptoms of BP2 is spending money when stressed..). To top it all, we had a local radio reporter visiting the allotment on the Friday. I was highly anxious about this because our leader told me I was going to be the one interviewed and I had to say ALL THE RIGHT THINGS about our charity. As I have never in my entire life said all the right things about anything, I became very jittery but doggedly practised my intended speech all week to Roland Garros who seemed impressed enough to purr loudly at the more dramatic bits ("The week we set out to build the Victorian Hotbed was a particularly difficult one..."). However, when we actually got to the plot our leader hogged the whole thing and I was left parroting out the odd comment in a high wind. As by that time I couldn't even remember the names of the crops I'd planted, I'm sure to come over a complete moron (what's new?). Anyway, it's all come good now, as we've discovered H only has Shigella, which is a bacterial infection that causes dysentery. He's mended the house and complained loudly about the large hole in the bank account. Luckily, I can send all my mania-induced QVC purchases back. This is a good tip for all you bipolars out there...the crazy shopping is probably incurable, so make sure you do it somewhere where you get that 30 day money back guarantee!

The Trial

It was tough on the allotment today. First there was an argument concerning onions. During the week I'd noticed we had very large gaps between our onion rows so I suggested we plant some lettuce and radish seeds in them. Our leader totally pooh poohed this and said we were going to start proceedings by planting more onions. I flipped. No, I shouted, we are not planting more onions. We have enough onions. I'm sick to death of onions. Glaring ensued. So to cool things off I said, why don't we get some more potatoes done? You know how much you like those...And so we continued for a while on a newly dug over piece of plot, he at one end and I at the other. Silently digging ditches with our spades. I did a row, he did a row. I started a second row and then did my watering rounds of all the stuff I now have under the glass of the hotbed and the coldframe while another (much less argumentative) volunteer finished the ditch. I was just bringing over a wheelbarrow of horse manure to put in the ditch (as we all know, when planting potatoes, we dig the ditch, put in the manure, and then nestle the potatoes upright in it) when I noticed our leader was putting his potatoes in without manure. So I said, hey, wait I'll put the manure in. Our leader then straightened himself and said, Don't tell me how to plant potatoes! The manure goes in afterwards...To help things along my friend came up at that point and said, I put the manure in first, but then I put the potatoes really deeply into it, so it's all round them. So it makes no difference, our leader shouted, NO DIFFERENCE AT ALL! To placate him, I said I was sure it wouldn't make any difference...anyway we would soon find out if it did as we had made the perfect experimental trial (possibly the first of its kind in the world): two rows of pre-planting manuring versus two rows of post-planting manuring. Afterwards, over coffee, our leader admitted that I had been right about one thing: we do have enough onions. But I am still banned from planting lettuces between the rows. I'm now trying to persuade my friend to take up her bloody leeks from the far side of the allotment so I can plant some more salad there. Silly woman didn't even know you could freeze leeks. Whatever next?

Winning Ways

What a weekend! On Saturday H and I went to view a house that I'm mad keen on but he wasn't sure about. Sunday was all about WINNING HIM ROUND. It was a weird day actually. Just as I entered church one of the wardens swept past me, shouting, 'I'm sick of being treated like a complete moron. It's too bloody loud, I tell you! I'm leaving!' Problems with the music evidently. Of course, everyone was shaken, and some in tears, so it made carrying on with the service (wildly celebrating Christ's entry into Jerusalem) a bit tough. But we soldiered on. Husband, too, was blustery and irritable, as all misgivings he had about the house were firmly put aside. I blame it all on this awful stormy weather we've suffered all week. Not a single client turned up to the allotment on Friday. Depression seemed to be hanging over all of us. Our leader was wingeing on and on about how mouldy the potatoes sold to him by the Head of the Allotments (whom I call The Curmudgeon) are. I kept telling him, 'Look you need to talk to her about it...there she is over there..' He pretended he couldn't see her. Still sore from the telling off she gave him about his fire last week. Anyway, myself and another volunteer managed to finish the largest hotbed, and clear another area ready for some asparagus I've ordered. You'll be pleased to hear the cutting-edge laundry basket hotbed has produced a great display of coriander. So it works! The garden's looking great---the slideshow hardly does it justice. The Vincas are producing a lovely carpet of mauvy-blue in the darkest corner, and the scented narcissi near the house are just lovely. Oh, nearly forgot to tell you, I got the winner in the Cheltenham Champion Hurdle and third in the Gold Cup so won a nice sum of money. Another hot tip for those of you trying to feed your gardening addiction on a limited budget. Would you all be more interested in a betting blog than an organic gardening one, I wonder?

A Blustery Day

Golly, what a day! Severe weather warnings across the country. My little garden is in the midst of a whirlwind. Bits flying everywhere. Guess what was the first to go? The silly bird seed bells, of course. So much for conservation. But wait, I hear you say, what happened on the allotment on Friday? Lots. First of all I found my dear friend had taken an overdose since I had been away and had spent some time in intensive care. (Yes, folks, what we do on this allotment, is actually serious stuff: we are dealing with very vulnerable people). Anyway, she was, as you can imagine, not feeling too bright, and certainly did not want anything to stressful to be happening around her. We started quietly filling in the largest Victorian hotbed as she told me what had been bothering her. Suddenly, we became aware that, on the other side of the allotment, and very close to where one of our neighbours had placed his new shed covered with plastic sheeting, flames were leaping into the air. Our esteemed leader had chosen to set light to an enormous pile of rubbish in a high wind. Fellow gardeners, thinking that such a conflagration could only have been started by one of the mad members of the group, ran to our plot in horror. My friend and I hid in our ditch and contemplated covering ourselves in the rest of the soil so that no-one would notice us. I tell you, our leader is embarrassing at times! Luckily, the flames failed to reach the plastic by inches and within half an hour or so the blaze was in hand. Later, over coffee I asked our leader what on earth had possessed him to light a fire in such conditions. "I don't know", he said, "I wasn't going to light it until next week. Then suddenly, I though, why not?...The next think I knew I had the matches in my hand and...." After that we sipped our drinks in silence.
There's nothing like horticultural therapy at times, I can tell you. Oh by the way, I hope you like the new slideshow of the garden. I just wish I could call it something else other than 'slideshow'. If anyone knows the secret of this, please tell me.

The Sugar Plum Fairy

I knew normality couldn't last. This Friday is was tipping down with rain. After much discussion the group decided to go to a garden centre to pick up a plum and and a damson tree. I thought our leader was in a bit of a funny mood before we started out. As we started off, though, it became apparent he had fallen into a black pit of depression. He started 'f-ing and blinding' and the car soon filled up with a thick fog. At this point it became apparent that he didn't know where the garden centre was, and the only one who did know was sitting in the back seat (with me) and had no idea where we were. I kept asking him to turn on the demisters, but it was now apparent that he didn't know what these were. We kept skidding along, hitting the kerb occasionally. Then we went the wrong way! Our leader went into meltdown and the rest of us had to very gently get him to turn round and put him on the right track again. Finally,we got to the garden centre. The three of us jumped out and literally ran to the entrance---only to find that it was closed because of an electricity cut. Deciding not to make the entire trip a waste of time, I asked the nice man at the door if he could find out if they had plums and damson trees in stock. So he started phoning the other members of staff inside. At this very point our leader turned up and started shouting at the top of his voice, 'I'm not interested in whether they've got any bloody plums or not! Let's go home!' I think by this time all of us realised he had regressed to the level of a four year old. Anway, I got the required information (although at this point I wanted to ask, 'If you had to guess which of us is certifiably mad, who would you chose?') we got back in the car, and headed back. As we got to my house, the leader didn't exactly apologise, but did say he was angry because he'd planned to finish the Victorian hotbed and couldn't because it was raining! Is there such a thing as allotment rage? Answers please!

The Basket Case.

Thank goodness things are back to normal---a wonderful Friday spent shovelling horse manure at the allotment. To be honest, I wasn't sure this week that I didn't have the dreaded virus that is going round: I had 'the runs' and I certainly felt sick. But then, as we all know, I am a hypochondriac, so we can't be sure. Anyway, I felt a lot better after getting started on the hotbeds. I made a small one on my own using an old laundry basket (hush, we may be at the cutting edge of organic gardening here, I'll let you know of its progress.) I got started on another in an ex-compost bin, and the third, real Victorian one, was marked out with plastic posts by our leader...I'm sure you're all at the edge of your seats by now wondering how to make a Victorian Hotbed, so here goes. You basically dig a hole between two and four feet deep. You then at least half fill this hole with horse manure which you then walk on to squash down. You then put the soil back, but adding compost as you go so you end up with a 1:1 mixture. You cover the whole thing over with something transparent like glass or polythene. As you can tell from the above, I'm trying to do some small ones without the digging to see if they work. The point of it all is that you end up with a really hot, well fertilised, patch where you can grow things at least a month early. Next week some of the blokes will hopefully turn up and do a bit of digging...As for the rest of the plot...well, the broad beans are doing fine, but the onions I planted seem to have caught damping off or something (I think they knew they weren't loved, don't you?). Oh yes, in case you're wondering. The reason I had an old laundry basket was because I bought a new one in the new John Lewis's in Cambridge---reduced from £30 to £10! What a day that was. I celebrated by having a salmon and scrambled egg breakfast in their restaurant, with waitress service...Even we greens have our moments.

Time for bed

Oh lordy, I don't know what to say. I was just going to make a quick check on my blog this morning, only to find something totally untoward has happened with the banner photo. It's disappeared up its own arse, that's what! As I've no idea how to put this in computer language, I don't know if I can restore it for you. Oh, poor festive readers. What a thrill you are missing! No doubt, though, you are not too bothered about that, as you've come to hear about the allotment. Yes, well the little group went up there on Friday, inspected the pile of manure, and decided to have some heartwarming cocoa and biscuits. I took up the BBC Gardeners' World magazine free calendar, which is quite magnificent this year, as a gift for the shed. We also inspected our broad beans, onion sets and garlic, all of which are doing well. People think you don't do anything in an allotment over winter---I hope I've convinced you otherwise. We were very busy harvesting our three remaining parsnips, comparing our Wellington boots, and dunking our biscuits. We decided to leave the digging of the Victorian hot bed until next year...The garden, too, looks a picture of quiet contentedness. Most mornings now the pond is frozen over and I can see an abundance of bulbs poking through the wet earth. Another fun-packed year is coming to an end.

Mistletoe and whine...

Lordy, where to start? This week we actually got to the allotment and found about 2 tons of manure parked not where we'd asked for it but in the space planned for the greenhouse. Oh well, it could have been worse. At least they left the shed standing...Obviously 2 tons of manure is too much even for a very ample Victorian hotbed, so we started working out what else we could do with it, with the result that our soft fruit bushes now have an ample duvet covering which should see them through the worst of winter. I then nearly killed myself trying to transplant 2 gooseberry bushes into the plot. Realising I was risking yet another back injury I asked the men (who were all tottering around the mower---they like it because it makes lots of noise), to kindly do the third one while I made the tea. It only took three of them...I got home to find all my Vincas (do you remember them?), and my Chinese lanterns had been delivered. Of course it's done nothing but pour with rain ever since, so I've had no chance to plant them. I continue to have trouble in hyperspace....I was informed this morning that I need to kiss 19 more people under the mistletoe before I can move on to the next level (evidently there's a whole heap of more interesting things you can do under mistletoe than just kiss people---the rest of the world knows about this, I don't). Well, I thought I'd just inform my friends (27!) of this, when I discovered that all my applications had shut down. Will be visiting the doctor next week to get more tablets...

On the road again...

Big news from the allotment this week...we've decided to make a Victorian hotbed! It happened like this. We were all working away when an enormous Private Consignment of Horse Manure arrived for another plot (on a tractor trailer, I hasten to add, not out of the sky). I said, 'I didn't know, you could get Private Consignments of Horse Manure, and, if I had, I would have suggested making a Victorian hotbed' (I had just read about these in a magazine). Well, our leader's eyes went as wide as saucers, and the next thing I knew we had ordered the aforementioned manure and it will be delivered next week. Now, of course, I'm a little anxious, as I've not actually got any experience making Victorian hotbeds...I dealt with this anxiety by very quietly planting another row of onion sets (good advice, if you suffer in this way). The other thing I want to comment about is wild bird food. What a task buying it is these days. Every bird, evidently, demands it's own particular mix, and then there are about a million ways of displaying it in your garden. When I was young we just put out stale bread and bacon rinds...but now it is scientifically proven that this is a VERY BAD thing to do! So, getting the food at the garden centre takes at least an hour, and afterwards you have no choice but to slump into the cafe for a relaxing cup of tea (served in very boring tableware, compared to what the birds are offered). Anyway, I went for a very pretty sunflower design hanger to display my RSPB certified peanuts, and some lovely fatfilled half coconuts that were on special offer. Oh yes, I'm sure you're all wondering about my anagram friend. He turned out to be Turkish. I sent him a whoopee cushion, which he liked, but then I tried to bite him with my werewolf application and he removed himself from my Friends list! I don't seem to have lost my identity, but only time will tell....Finally, my driving license appeared. I can indeed drive anything anywhere, but only for the next three years in case I deteriorate. Of course, I'll deteriorate, I thought, doesn't everyone? Anyway, I'm not arguing, I'm just glad to be allowed out again!