For once the recession has done us a favour
OUR local garden centre was closed for some time and someone came up with the brilliant idea of turning the whole area into allotments.
The plots came complete with green house, shed and water butts.
Ever since our Duane picked up an application form, the Grump has been buzzing around planning the layout, starting with fruit bushes, a crop of potatoes then a whole kaleidoscope of delicious healthy, free food.
Of course, he’s no newcomer to growing his own. When the kids were small he had an allotment as well as half of our garden being taken over with wigwams salad beds, even parsley for our rabbit Humphrey.
But it’s all in the preparation you see, the Gump reminisced, the soil has to be in tip top condition, turned over and hoed before planting.
At the appointed time in the gardener’s calendar he would ceremoniously place a floorboard on the soil and patiently plant 100 onion sets before standing back to admire his efforts. Backbreaking work that only a cold beer can ease.
In the summer of ’82 he was so engrossed in his work he didn’t notice our toddler Rachel one row behind him quietly pulling them out again - or me sniggering behind the camera!
And he’s always looked after his gardening tools, even taking his trusty spade to the seaside in the boot of the car along with the suitcases.
Why? Well, while the other dads were fiddling around with plastic spades, out would come the old garden spade and in no time at all our kids had the biggest and most spectacular castle on the beach complete with a knee-deep moat to fill up. That kept them busy with their little buckets.
With method in his madness, the castle would be strategically placed near the pub. It would have been cruel to deny the girls the joy of seeing the moat fill up when the tide came in, while we sat relaxing outside the pub in the evenings. And all that jumping and stomping to destroy the sandcastle wore them out in time for bed.
It doesn’t seem that long ago but time marches on and now our girls all have their own children, and best of all we have their big strong husbands to do the digging.
So now the Grump is ready to pass his gardening skills on to the son-in-laws and God help them if they don’t know their artichokes from their elbows.