...as Tom Waits put it. A fairly trite notion, Tom, if you don't mind me saying. This morning was the first weekday I've had off from work for months, so I was determined to get to the allotment for as long as possible because there's still plenty to do after my 6 week absence in the summer.
I tidied up around the area of the new shed. The gorse plants were there, but as I get back to digging the shed foundations I want somewhere to throw the numerous stones still in the ground, and the foundations are a shallow depression in the ground which I'm slowly filling with rubble, about 8x8ft, easy enough to hit with stones and bits of glass from anywhere on the plot.
All of this in the pouring rain, mind. The dogs ran around, Sparky using the long stretch of nascent hedgerow with its little gorse plants as a running track, uprooting a few of them which I of course put back. The gorse are doing well, some have grown visibly in the last couple of weeks, putting out side shoots.
And I managed to dig over about 4sq yards of the former tattie patch, sow field beans and cover with oomska. But the rain got torrential, and I was soon covered in mud and shit, and the dogs had given up on fun and taken to skulking in the old shed. So we gave it up, and headed for the pub, but no sooner had we walked 10 yards down the road than the rain stopped... Tempted to go back, but sodden by then. And the interlude in the downpour didn't last long anyway.