Much joy as my sister Rachel arrives for an overnight visit - fitting us in between Finland and Canada. Jet-lagged, she is bundled off immediately, of course, to the allotment, where she is suitably impressed, and notes the luxury of a plot within walking distance of home.With the girls out on an improving walk in the pastures, I am left to complete the fourth wall of our new raised bed. Which eventually fits, with a little jiggery and some pokery. A final break-up of the soil follows, and the beginning of mixing in soil-improving compost.
Rachel watered like a seasoned professional.Meet the newest allotmenteer, Corner Guy, as he will be known until we learn his name. Worringly, he says he was told that he needed some sort of planning permission to erect a shed. Hmm. Lacking aforementioned permission, we may need to paint ours in camouflage patterns and colours, rather than the fetching robin's-egg blue we had in mind.
We snack on some peas and raspberries, improve the raspberry netting, and note, with relief, the absence of rabbit droppings.
Not, we fear, a state likely to prevail on our western neighbours' plot.Later, some teamwork on repairing the trailer so that it can support our allotment work in a manner befitting a trailer. All hands on deck, and a fine result.
Return on Sunday for a touch more pokery, then away to Radlett again to acquire more wood from our Freecycle philanthropist. Confess to the trailer mismanagement and the heroic role of his climbing rope, and settle for what battens we can fit in our car. He's got a really nifty circular saw, which I am coming to regard as a tool I must have.
So our wood pile grows, and plans forming for a Louis XVI-style pattern of beds and paths to the west, with fruit cage in the middle and shed, compost and (perhaps) gazebo to the east.A brief tour for you.
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