Who'd have thought a plot of ground ten metres by ten metres within waddling distance of my front door would be so much work?
The fruits of what little labour Wife-features and I have managed to put in to the plot have started to emerge.
The other night the missus came home cradling half a dozen butch lettuces that looked like they'd been fed on a cocktail of protein shakes, Miracle-Gro and the radioactive goo that turns turtles into ninjas.
On the way home she bumped into a neighbour. Would you like a lettuce? Er, yes. How lovely. (What would you say?)
I took one into work for a colleague who likes her veg and has a family to feed. Wow, she exclaimed. This looks like what you get in the shops!
About twenty minutes later in the middle of something she piped up You grew this?
So, the harvesting has begun and sure enough food does taste better when you've grown it yourself. Food miles? Zero. Taste-o-meter? Off the scale.
The strawberries and tomatoes are coming along nicely, as is the rocket. Our onions are huge, as are the tatties. And the rhubarb is looking good. Wife-features has planted some beetroot so like I say it's like the bridge - there's always something on the go.
This Sunday the Electric Allotments are having a wee jamboree to celebrate what's been done and each of us is chipping in with some food. I hope everyone likes salad!