Pumpkin Soup

a weblog with an allotment attached

29 January 2006

Beanz meanz hope

Here are a few things in no particular order that, had anyone asked me on Friday morning what I might get up to this weekend, would never have featured in my answer:

1) Whooped with delight to discover, upon arriving at our plot today, that half of it has been rotovated.

rotovated plot

Way back in October we had been hoping to have it done, but when I last saw Ben he seemed to think it was unlikely. This is going to save us a lot of hard work attempting to dig in the awful green manure I put in last year. Fantastic.

2) Actually done some digging. You know me - I put things off. So even though I had a lot of encouragement and the added bonus of a web campaign to get me back in my wellies, I have to say that I wasn’t entirely convinced that I would be persuaded to leave my warm house in favour of a chilly allotment. But somehow we got ourselves down there for a couple of hours. So, Mr HB, Jooles and WiZer - I’ve kept up my end of the bargain. Have you?

I also pulled up some weeds from between my over-wintering onions and garlic as well as putting in a few more garlic cloves, just for the hell of it. You can never protect yourself enough from vampires, can you?

Garlic shoots

3) Sowed some broad beans. Well, actually a lovely big bed full - there’s going to be a whole lot of flatulence in south Birmingham come July. These are Super Aquadulce which I found in an envelope along with dozens of other packets of seed that I had no idea I had. Yet more cataloguing to do in front of the telly tonight then.

Beds

4) Conducted a telephone call with one Alan Dacey, British Vice-Consul in Cuba (our man in Havana, if you will) at 1:30am Saturday morning our time, having come home from an evening in the pub to a panicked phone call from my Mum who had been mugged on holiday. To say this was worrying is something of an understatement and I really didn’t think I would have a clue about where to start to get some help. Mr Dacey on his out of hours number (sounding like he was enjoying a drink in a nice bar when I called) was extremely helpful and very reassuring. My Mum was very shaken up at first but seems to be fine and it looks as though it’s going to be very easy to get some money to her and an emergency passport issued.

Thank goodness for soil and seeds and sunshine.

Filed under: Hard labour, Sowings — Clare @ 5:10 pm


4 responses

  1. Burro, Head. Noun.

    Jeez! I hope your mum’s ok, mate. What a horible thing to happen.

    As for digging, well I didn’t dig this weekend, but I did shift a hell of a lot of hedge and then try to tidy up the builder’s yard that my garden has become. The path laying had to be put off until next week as the mistress’ brother popped in to Preston of a flying visit from London (it was lovely to see him, but it knacked my plans up somewhat). Hope I didn’t let the campaign down too much :-)

    (29.01.06 @ 9:48 pm)

  2. Clare

    Hmmmn. I dunno. Avoiding digging because of socialising, no doubt with alcohol involved!?

    Sounds to me like you were pretty busy nonetheless, so who am I to preach?

    (29.01.06 @ 11:25 pm)

  3. Mr HB

    Booze? There may have been… ;-)

    If you’re going to preach (and why not) you have to get yourself some huge comedy hands like Kenny Everett - it’s the law!

    (30.01.06 @ 10:58 am)

  4. WiZeR

    Yes, I dug. Wasn’t quite the productive day i’d hoped for though. Glad everything turned out ok with your mum.

    (30.01.06 @ 12:46 pm)


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