First Dig!

I did it, I did it, I did it!!!! With a belly full of Tana Ramsey's Sausage & Lentil Bake, key lime pie and white wine, I convinced  Angry Husband and reluctant brother to grab a fork and follow me down there to "make a start". When I say 'convinced', I mean offered beer. Big shout out too to my sister in law and nephew for watching my two year old son while we dug - I'm especially impressed that they suffered 40 minutes in the car with him and a full nappy. My son's bowels would test the patience of a saint. Respect Donna and Alex.

So we ruined two pairs of crap gardening gloves, got stung, scratched and filthy and made lots of very satisfying piles by tackling the biggest weeds. I hadn't realised how satisfying it would be pulling massive weeds out and feeling them give as you yank out the root. I found myself coaxing and then insulting each one in a pyschological game I think only I enjoyed. Angry Husband and Reluctant Brother just kept asking how many weeds earnt them a beer. And I met my allotment neighbour Brian. Very nice bloke. We exchanged musings on the benefits of hiring a rotivator. He said something about a weed sounding like bel..something and I agreed wholeheartedly that 'well, that's always the problem isn't it'. I'm hiring a rotivator. My back hurts.

Having made many satisfying piles (rather childishly, I find that sentence funny), I made good my promise to buy everyone a drink. And the pub round the corner from my allotment is lovely - result! And serves very nice Shiraz.

Lessons learnt. 1. Don't buy BOGOF gloves 2. Don't wear Uggs 3. Always follow allotment visit with lovely drink in the Chequers 4. Must hire rotivator to avoid wheelchair in later life