Here come the onions

NTS 20 - Manure

Splitting the Rhubarb

Shit

Durex and I dug four bags of manure into the allotment.



It came from a farm that his colleague lives on somewhere in Tameside. We saw a massive bull, and some chickens. Tiring work, especially given how rough I felt. But good work too. Honest.

The story of my year, in not many words

January: Walking boots, job interview, new phone.
February: Tracy and Kate’s Manchester returns, lots of country walks.
March: The debut of the allotment, Libby and Cardiff.
April: Volunteering, a job offer, a crush on a girl in Waterstone’s.
May: The end of crimefighting, a test match at Old Trafford, a new job.
June: Woody and Clare, the first harvests, meeting Liz.
July: Mostly spent falling in love with Liz.
August: The Green Man, Vicky’s barbecue, Dr Jim’s Bank Holiday visit.
September: Lenny’s birthday, Izzy’s birth and work getting shit.
October: Mark Morriss, breaking up with Liz, ferry across the Mersey
November: The Lever Estate, Fireworks, flat hunting
December: Moving house, an upswing.

Allotment, a requiem until Spring

I felt a bit sad at the allotment today. It's been a long time since my first visit. We started to prepare for the winter. I really love the place.



We dug up the rows where we'd planted the garlic. We turned over the soil where we'd built the nets to protect the cauliflour. I broke down the path that I'd stood on at the start of the summer, the non-summer that is, and used the hosepipe on the potatoes.



We took the nets off the cabbage. This coke can was one of our fenders, broadening the contact point with between the net and the cane holding it up. We planted the cabbages back in April. It feels like a long time ago.



The cabbage looked beautiful inside. And it tasted great.

Allotment, Barbecue, Burglary

I went to the allotment first thing. Well, after Football Focus.




To prepare for Vicky’s birthday barbecue, I brought potatoes and blackberries from the allotment. The potatoes went into a potato salad, and the blackberries came with us to the party to be used as the base for gin and blackberry cocktails. The barbecue was absolutely brilliant - I had a wonderful time. I think the blackberry cocktails went down better than the potato salad, but both were a success. Lots of Liz’s friends from Uni were there, some of whom I’d met – Kinsella the fella – some of whom I hadn’t – Becca, Youlande. I’m always nervous about meeting Liz’s friends, as I really want them to like me.

Pervy and I found some hard hats in a skip when we went out to get cigs, so we put them on as we came back into the party. What an entrance! Or maybe we looked like massive losers! Who cares! We kept ‘em! They got passed around for a little while, then discarded. So we took them home! They’re in the dining room at 46! Yeah!

The night ended in carnage, with Lucinda deciding to take what we’d brought home with her, and Laura and Liz toppling and tumbling over on more than one occasion. We stole from the barbecue. Sausages. Pringles. Twiglets. Kronenbourg 1664. We were bad. Very bad.

Vegetables rock

After the excesses of Saturday, it felt good to get my teeth into some allotmenteering today. Durex and I weeded all around the cauliflour and the spuds, and cleared out the nets to keep the birds off. Liz came down to the allotment, looking wonderful in a green dress. I was so glad to see her, especially as my battered soul and body was hungry for hugging.

And hungry in the conventional sense too, it turned out. We made ratatouille using marrows and courguettes from the allotment, and sat and ate it in the sunshine of the garden. Liz showed me her herbs, and the lawn she's proudly nurtured around the back of 46. We played watering can baseball with coal for balls. I was dressed like a raver.

I hate coldsores. Kissing Liz is a joy, and to not be able to do so for a while is going to be very difficult.

Courgette

NTS2

NTS1