Avid readers of this plant related nonsense will remember that the last posting was about allotment crime and the welding of a padlock to our gate.

 Today, whilst finally finishing the digging over that started some time in February (Hey, it’s a work in progress), the lady who is our allotment association chairman (I think) came over to tell me off and offer unasked for advice.

 To be honest I don’t know if she the allotment association chairman, I sort of assume. I’m subletting half of the plot from a friend so I don’t know about the set up of the place. She has this air of self importance which annoys most people who meet her. She once strode most purposely across the allotments to ask me what I was doing in a most accusatory tone when I was collecting Elderflower from the bushes that surround our little idle.

 Today she told me to leave some stones in the soil because they help with drainage. Whilst there is a degree of truth to this, we haven’t had a problem with the drainage in our plot so this wasn’t’ really that helpful. There is also the point that most of the rocks that I was removing were the size of Gibraltar and would serious impede root development of my carrots and parsnips next year.

 Then there was the padlock, “I see you’re doing ok with the padlock and you scrambled the code afterwards, very good” she said. Well, it has been a while since my basic MI5 training but I remember some of the more simple points, I thought, but she continued, “But could you lock the gate whilst you are here.” “I’m sorry? You want me to lock myself in?” “Yes please. We’ve had some people coming in and letting there children run about and do some other things.”

 And with that she was gone. Floating away on a cloud generated by her ego.

I had some many questions, like, what were these enigmatic “other things” that these dreadful running children had done? How would I stop myself from feeling like a bit of a tit when I lock myself in? And who are you anyway?

 I’ve only been to my allotment twice since the lock appeared (a decision that was taken by this woman on her own with no discussion by the way) and I’m bored of it already. It’s silly. Whilst I was there today a man of about 70 who has the allotment across from mine jumped the gate. The lock serves no point. Half the fun is that people can wonder in and have a look around.

 I will not be locking myself in. I don’t want to garden in a gated community.

 Picked some more beans, French and Runners afterwards.