Grumpy Old Allotmentor
Having an allotment not only provides the family with an endless supply of fresh fruit and veg throughout the Summer (if only), but it also creates a label for your friends and family to hang on you. I'm not sure of the exact wording of my epithet, but if I had to guess then it would be something like "vegetable grower". It may well be simply "vegetable", but that conjures up a far more pathetic image than I wholly deserve.
Being a Dad of a certain age, who still refuses to ruin a good walk by punctuating it by hitting a small white pitted ball as far as possible, presents considerable problems for those who choose to buy me birthday and Christmas presents. Without a hobby you are difficult to buy for. Although in a perverse way you become easier in that there is no excuse to not buy you socks and synthetic jumpers sporting some unfamiliar faux logo.
Once you've been pigeon-holed as a vegetable grower then the world is my present buyers' oyster. I now receive endless supplies of gardening gloves, novelty books on a 100 ways to kill a slug, little plastic shutes that guide your tiny seeds into the waiting furrow, and pH meters to measure the acidy of your soil. OK so I exaggerate, but it does feel that all my presents are gardening related. Even my birthday cards will show a picture of a watering can in an immaculate shed, or a cabbage in a sunset. It reminds me of my childhood when all my birthday cards carried a football theme until I reached 13. They then changed to guitars when my passion moved on.
On a positive note I do get given things that I didn't realise existed which add to my broad knowledge of gardening. I know I should be grateful and should stop being a grumpy old allotmentor.
OK, I'll give it a try.
Being a Dad of a certain age, who still refuses to ruin a good walk by punctuating it by hitting a small white pitted ball as far as possible, presents considerable problems for those who choose to buy me birthday and Christmas presents. Without a hobby you are difficult to buy for. Although in a perverse way you become easier in that there is no excuse to not buy you socks and synthetic jumpers sporting some unfamiliar faux logo.
Once you've been pigeon-holed as a vegetable grower then the world is my present buyers' oyster. I now receive endless supplies of gardening gloves, novelty books on a 100 ways to kill a slug, little plastic shutes that guide your tiny seeds into the waiting furrow, and pH meters to measure the acidy of your soil. OK so I exaggerate, but it does feel that all my presents are gardening related. Even my birthday cards will show a picture of a watering can in an immaculate shed, or a cabbage in a sunset. It reminds me of my childhood when all my birthday cards carried a football theme until I reached 13. They then changed to guitars when my passion moved on.
On a positive note I do get given things that I didn't realise existed which add to my broad knowledge of gardening. I know I should be grateful and should stop being a grumpy old allotmentor.
OK, I'll give it a try.
Labels: Grumpy