A little downcast, I carried on with the last leg of the fruit bush disinterment marathon. I'd just got started when I heard a shriek. It was that kind of shriek that you hear from a young man high on booze, probably helped along with a bit of amphetamine. And there they were, three lads about 15 years old, in the allotment on the other side of the raised beds area, quite oblivious to the fact that I was staring at them, from an allotment they'd just plundered, 30 yards away. I was nonplussed. Then a man showed up in the lane, and spoke to them, and they walked away, towards the allotment exits. I spoke to him, and told him about my wire cutters, and he said they were there, in the lane, and fetched them for me. I went to see if the lads were still around, but they'd gone, and a couple of other allotmenteers were there, bemoaning the fact that we didn't have a savage dog between us.
It was surreal, these neds showing up, I'd guess off their faces, vandalising and nicking people's stuff, at 1pm on a Sunday afternoon. But no time to ponder, as I set about the fruit bushes again, getting the last of them out as the light was going. It was satisfying, to have gardened across the whole width of the plot, and to have at last reclaimed that particular bed, once a jungle of feral fruit bushes and nettles. Unrecognisable, now.
|New fence complete with hedgehog way-in and -out|
Again, finished as the light was going, putting the barbed wire on top as a nasty freezing squall blew up.
Ground on that boundary still very boggy, but that's another post... And the Aramco shirt is still missing.