Manly Andy

The allotment this year is being a bit like a watched pot. It might be because I spend more time up there so don't get the sudden impact of things growing like we used to last year on our once weekly visits. This year things seem to have taken AGES to get started and I was beginning to think I'd be lugging veg back from Sainsbugs forever, but no! Look! Today - tiny baby runner beans, tiny baby courgettes. Tiny baby tomatoes and ripe blackberries (And yes they are blackberries. Looked like them, smelt like them, tasted like them so HA! Old Geezer on the plot next door.) Tiny baby rocket, tiny baby carrots, tiny baby beetroot and tiny baby spring onions. Even a tiny baby cauliflower head which excited me enormously. And of course, the new potatoes are ready, as are the radish, shallots and the onions.

The Jerusalem artichokes are nearly five feet tall and I am excited about the flowers that should be appearing soon because Jerusalem artichokes are dual purpose - pretty flowers to cut for the house on top, strange shaped tubers underground for eating. The squash, pumpkins, aubergines, peppers, French beans, leeks and cabbage have all had a sudden growth spurt as have the autumn raspberries. The strawberries, sadly, have finished but fed us well whilst they were growing.

'I am going to level out the inside of the polytunnel,' Andy announced as we arrived this morning. It was clear blue skies and blazing heat and the Big Drippa seemed to be doing its job admirably well.
'And I shall prepare the ground for the planting of broccoli seedlings, sunflower plants that are erring on the side of straggly and the sowing of the seeds of swede, turnip, chard and pak choi,' I said, because, after 3 years, we are finally getting the hang of successional sowing.

And after half an hour of honest toil in the sun, wearing our floppy sun hats and growing pink of face, Andy became manly and TOOK OFF HIS TEE-SHIRT! And went BARE CHESTED! How manly is that???

I thought, I wish I could do that. But bare lady chests are not the done thing at allotments, not if you want your lease renewed next spring anyhow, and besides, having already inspected down the front of my jimjam top that morning and wondered if I really ought to be wearing a supportive garment 24/7, I decided staying lady-like covered was the only proper option. And I was already having a builder's bottom crisis, because every time I squatted down, there was a pleasant waft of air twixt the top of my jeans and the bottom of my vest top. Luckily, I had on a floaty, bohemian overshirt and no-one screamed so I guess it must have been long enough to cover the flesh gap if there was one.

So Andy marched around the plot with the wind blowing through his curly chest hair and I sweltered.

Everything got planted and netted 'gainst the evil that is pigeon except the nasturtiums which I couldn't for the life of me remember what veg they are supposed to companion plant. So they have been popped into the polytunnel whilst I find out and they can be planted out later this week.

The only downside was when we arrived at Plot 87 this morning we found it covered in the remnants of Chinese takeaway and assorted cartons, several Coke cans and a shredded copy of the Sun. Our first experience of vandalism. But oddly, I didn't get angry or even mildly annoyed. I cleared up the mess and got on with allotmenteering.

Weird, that.