From the allotment: 🍓🍓 Keep ‘em coming #homegrown

More homegrown goodness from the allotment. We’re rather happy with the strawberries and raspberries, that are starting to come into fruition. These are genuine homegrown goodness, transported from the back garden and planted at the allotment just in time to catch the May heat wave tanning session. Expect more of the same over the next month or so.

The first major harvest of the season. Ha! Blink and you might miss it, etc. But yep, these are nature’s bounty from our own first personal harvest. We inherited a patch of land that included some very limp rhubarb stalks, as well as the fag end of a leek crop. The strawberries and the raspberries are our own making. Tuck in!

TAP WARS broke out at the allotment on Sunday morning. I was pressed with two tasks: mow the verges and water the entire patch. I failed spectacularly on both counts. I forgot to charge the battery on the mini electric flymo the night before; early Sunday morning tap hoggers had already hooked up their hosepipes to the limited water supplies.

Arse.

It’s a little like the towel on the sun bed trick whilst off on your fancy foreign jolly. I don’t do fancy foreign jollies. I also don’t do Sunday morning watering, it seems.

Oh well. I took a little time out, sat on the allotment bench and surveyed my land. The poppies are adding a lush red sweep through the green colour palette. Things are starting to grow. I’ve no idea what most of these things are, but hopefully I’m in for a rich harvest, TAP WARS or no TAP WARS.

Monday was BENCH MOVING day down at the allotment. Or to be more precise, how the chuff do we get a bench that doubles up as tool storage from the house over to the allotment? Simple. Carry it. YEAH?

Tool storage has been something of an issue. We’ve inherited a plot with no shed. I’m no shed fan, tbh. They’re don’t age well with the Estuary Wilds wind and rain. They also look a little Old Man Allotment. Which I am certainly not, bro. And so instead we settled on the bench that doubles up with tool storage underneath. Job’s a good ‘un, etc.

This was delivered to our home via Mr Amazon. We built it back at base, and then thought, ARSE - we need to get this thing over to the allotment, with no car. We’re sustainable, if not blessed in the brains department.

It was actually quite lightweight. We chose a strategic time when there would be the fewest number of folk walking around the town. The house to allotment distance is just over 1km - a ten minute walk. What could go wrong?

It was bloody cold for a start. We looked like a right couple of dicks, carrying a bench along the mean streets of CO7. One car even slowed down, with the driver staring at us, rubber necking. I half expected the phone to come out, and then a pic appearing on the local FB group later in the day.

YES, THAT’S RIGHT, Madam. I’M CARRYING A FUCKING BENCH. What the chuff has it got do with you? Concentrate on your driving.

We rocked up at the allotment. We were immediately met by the Bench Inspector.

“What is that made of?”

Erm, recyclable materials. I think.

We just about got away with that one.

Positioning then took place. Two options were available: in front of another fella’s greenhouse, or on the small patch of land that currently has shingles on it. This is dead space in terms of growing, and so it emerged the winner.

I took a seat, looked around my patch, and then told A to get on with some weeding.

To the allotment! …on Sunday morning. I had one task: mow the verges. Phew, the CRAZY world of rock ‘n’ roll, etc. We are under strict instructions as part of our tenancy agreement to keep the verges looking neat and tidy. So what if the rest of the plot looks like a farmyard? Fines have been threatened unless I trim my edges.

The only issue is that there is no electricity on site. Petrol lawn mowers are available to hire. Nice little cash cow going off there. Not to be sucked into the mini eco-capitalist system, I went out and spunked some money on a battery operated little mower. What could go wrong?

Erm, the battery lost its charge after I headed up to the allotment the day before, and managed about two minutes of mowing. Oh dear.

No worries. A full charge overnight, and I was all set for, oh, five more minutes of mowing. The mower worked a dream this time. I even attempted to add in some football pitch style stripes, y’know, just to please the Grass Verge Border Police.

Job’s a good ‘un.

Elsewhere and I noticed a gathering of poppies have started to grow around the patch. I think I’ll leave the in. They add in a half decent colour palette to all the green goodness growing around them.

Some bench planning also took place. A garden bench with secure storage for tools underneath has been ordered. That will at least take up a small section of the KING SIZE allotment, and is one less thing to worry about when it comes to growing decisions.

A fly past of sorts took place up above, in what looked like a mini-airshow. The nearby wicket of Wivenhoe Town was being rolled. It was rather windy for the Sunday XI. Rowing for later in the day had already been cancelled. I got to use the compostable toilet.

#allotmentlife

The local muntjac deer have already had a nibble on my strawberries. BASTARDS! We were warned about this. The strawbs are the only crop that we’ve got on the go. It’s not been a good start with the muntjacs already having made a move on them.

It’s not all bad news, mind. Sunday afternoon revealed a wonderful view through the nearby allotment boundary hedge: the local cricket club thrashing around in the Sunday League: Cricket, possible strawberries and cream. I could get use to this.