Shovelling shit

It was a grey and slightly rainy day Saturday when I went up the plot. Gemma managed to get herself into some sort of mood and stomped off after 5 minutes up there. I couldn't quite work out what to do so just held on until Daz and Jen appeared, shortly followed by Daz's dad in his van. We grabbed a fork and some bags and headed off to Clough Fields stables which very kindly have a giant pile of manure for the taking. It was well rotted and not smelly so we filled the bags that we had and emptied the van. Again we cursed the positioning of our allotments - none of this driving right up to it like some people have. No, we had to manhandle the sacks down an uneven and sloping dirt track, and from there barrow them along the less sloping, but still uneven track to our allotment.

We managed it though and I spent some time breaking up the soil in one of the beds. Gemma arrived, after having rung and telling me she wasn't coming back up. When she got there she took over forking the manure through the beds, which was good, as my back was giving me a bit of pain by that point. I took over burning the very small remainder of the privet pile.

A good few hours were put in, so we retired to the pub for a pint and a chat about seeds - we've got Daz's propagator this year as they've no space for it. We also had a quick trip out Sunday morning to a garden centre to pick up some compost and some onion and garlic sets.

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