This is a new post I composed the other night while the other half knitted and we watched the electric fish tank (television) in the corner. It's going to be a very long winter.
I met this creature on a very overgrown allotment over twenty years ago when we lived in Blighty. She would sit on a white plastic chair and look at the grass and weeds growing on her newly acquired allotment.
We would often pass the time of day and I would talk about how my vegetables were growing and what I planned "to do" on my allotment that very day.
The lady would sigh and say: "I need to find a bloke to pull out the weeds and dig it over for me."
The weeks went by and I suggested covering the new allotment with cardboard boxes and one could lay them flat and prostrate on the ground and then cover them with some kind of organic material. The woman sighed again and said:
"I'll have to go to the supermarket for some cardboard boxes some time."
A day or two later I walked past her and she sat on her white plastic chair and noticed nothing had been done on her veg plot.
"I still haven't found anyone to dig it over".
I think she was after meeting some one or finding a soil slave to cultivate her plot for her? I thought of offering to dig some of her plot over for her. Honest. But I had "volunteered" on veg plots before and been rewarded with: "Thank you very much".
My Grandfather on my Mum's side had been in the army and he said: "Never volunteer for nowt". He also said you should never make a good job of any given task or else that job will be "yours". He died before I was born and he had an allotment. My other grandfather had a smallholding. Perhaps it's in the blood?
The lady looked middle-aged and had a grown up daughter who often accompanied to her new municipal potager/allotment.
"She doesn't like gardening, she's like me"
Said the lady.
They never cultivated the plot and someone told me:
"They've decided to give it up. Says it's too much for them".
I think the lady was looking for some one to share the rest of her life with. Perhaps she should of gone in the Dog and Duck on her own and met some bar lizard who would have said:
"Can I buy you a drink love?"
They might have sat there all night with her sipping like a puppy dog and him slurping and scooping downing his pints and spitting and shouting in her ear? Isn't that how you get to talk to members of the opposite set? Well you couldn't do it sober, could you?
Or perhaps she put her name down for another allotment where she would find a bloke who would cultivate and tame her veg plot and grow leviathan like vegetables and she wouldn't need to say:
"There's a pie in the microwave."
I read this to the missus and she said it could be deemed sexist. I suppose one could say that but it was more about the woman wanting some one to clear and dig over her new allotment while she sat on her white plastic chair. At least when you have an allotment you can people watch.