Beeches and hoes

If you were wondering how you can tell the precise moment when you finally become officially middle aged, I can now reveal all.

I just became chairman of our village’s Allotment Association. Please send my pipe and slippers immediately.

After languishing on a waiting list that was even slower that the “Please hold – all our operators are busy” call waiting system of British Gas, we finally managed to get ourselves an allotment late in 2010. Our initial excitement was tempered somewhat when we went to the site, found the sign for our plot and thought it had been replaced by a reasonably large rainforest.

Unfortunately, ill health meant Mrs. G wasn’t able to help as much through the winter as she would have liked (or that’s what she said, anyway) so I spent many a damp hour up there hopelessly poking frozen or waterlogged ground with a fork, and trying to remember my bearings and which direction the sun was in, so I could find my way out afterwards.

In the early spring, I had my first encounter with a slow worm. I was surprised at how remarkably fast I can move for such a lazy git. The slowies have now adopted our sizeable compost heap as their home, and seem to be having wild sex parties in there, as every time I take the cover off a whole bunch of them are writhing together in a rather suggestive way. And then there’s the frogs, who seem to be rather at home in there too, although with less in the way of the rumpy pumpy. The way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised to find a giraffe, or maybe a couple of whales in there next time.

After a moderately successful first year, during which my courgette intake rocketed to the kind of level scientists call ‘absurdly dangerous’ and I managed to avoid losing any important digits whilst using secateurs, we discovered deer were eating things the book said they shouldn’t. I guess that’s logical – as far as I know, they can’t read, so how were they supposed to know?

We now have a ring of steel around our plot, although the neighbouring houses complained about the helicopter’s searchlights, so we had to make do with the armed security patrols, until an unfortunate incident with No 56’s “Mr. Tiddles”. Never wee on an electric fence.

Our band of happy diggers seem very well organised and efficient, and the site is one of the neatest and best kept I’ve ever seen. OCD and gardening really are alive and well and washing their hands repeatedly in Arnside.

So far, I’ve failed the dress-code test though. I don’t own any jumpers that only need one more strand to snap before they fall off the wearer mid cabbage butterfly discussion, and my Damon Hill baseball hat is just way too trendy.

Anyway, we attended the Allotment Association AGM last week, where our fine 83 year old chairman said he really was stepping down this year, and someone needed to replace him. It’s remarkable how many people felt the floor needed a thorough inspection, and I’d already checked out most of my bit when I got kicked under the table by the Mrs. Foolishly, I looked up (after 20+ years together, I really shouldn’t have fallen for that one) and found her and another plot holder (plotter seems more appropriate) beaming at me and nodding in the direction of the committee at the other end of the padded table. I know. Padded. I have no idea either.

So, now I’m chairman. Today I went up there and cut the grass. One has to set the standards, you know. Other than that, I’m there for the heavy labour – I actually have no idea what I’m doing, as Mrs G is the green-fingered one, although the Doc says it’ll clear up if she keeps taking the tablets.

I feel I need to add a bit of yoof culture to the proceedings, so have started saying things like “Ghetto tuber star”, “Ain’t takin’ no chit from my potatoes” and proclaiming that I’m “Pimpin’ my plot”.

How quickly can you be removed from office, do you think?

This blog post appeared yesterday as an entry in the North West Evening Mail's "Big Blogger" competition. Do me a favour - click on this link to view it on their website, please? Thanks to your clicks, I've made it through to the last 3! Another person gets eliminated next Monday... Can I make it through to the Blog Off?!