Yesterday, the heap of useless contents from the sheds went in the barrow and along to the skip. Plastic sheeting, broken polystyrene fish-boxes, beer cans and plastic bottles, an electric kettle, miles of knotted garden hose, old bent chairs, and of course plenty of broken glass. I don't know how many barrows full, but my iPhone told me at the end of the morning that I'd walked 5 miles.
No BEFORE and AFTER photos, it was very un-photogenic. A significant morning though. That's the last of the rubbish. Which means that the only things to leave the allotment from here on in will be good things to eat, and flowers for the windowsill. Well, subject to what I find in the subterranean midden, hopefully just rotted wood which can go into the soil, or be burned. The new allotment era will be a self-sustaining one, what goes onto the allotment stays on the allotment. Allotmenteers need to have sharp eyes to get stuff for nothing, but sometimes the impulse goes too far. I mean, what the St Fiacre was the Predecessor thinking when he took an electric kettle there? And the lavatory cistern I found a few months ago?
What I really need, especially if I'm going no-dig, is a planting board, to walk on between the rows and (literally) lessen the footprints. If I wasn't such an atheist, I'd say St Fiacre was aware of my anguish. Yesterday, right outside our close, on the pavement, a 10ft scaffold board. Perfect. I squirrelled it away into our flat, and will take it down to the plot one quiet Sunday morning, when there are less people around to marvel at the sight of a man and a 10ft plank walking through Glasgow.
There was a sawn-off board, too, about 7ft long. I snaffled that, too. I've almost got enough materials, - corrugated iron sheets, timber, and perspex - to restore the sheds now. A big tin of creosote and plenty of nails are still needed.