When I arrived at the Hill tonight, I espied bags of horse muck, and did a happy dance. You see, the muck skip (conveniently right by my plot) has been empty for ages - the stables aren't delivering as many sacks of manure, and the old boys are getting to the deliveries first, leaving not much left for me.
It means that I haven't mucked the two potato beds this year (they will just have to put up with it) and I haven't been addling any muck to my compost bins.
Well, it's too late to muck the potato beds, but the compost bin is now positively overflowing.
Whilst I was sizing up the muck sacks, Richard from three plots down arrived, clearly on his way home from work. "It's a shame that you are not dressed for muck moving," I said, pointing at the bags.
"We'll see about that!" he said, and not to be defeated by a suit and tie, fetched a pair of gardening gloves and loaded his wheelbarrow with bags to take to his plot in just about the daintiest way possible. Good for him!
I'd just about filled the compost bin when he came over with a handful of freshly cut asparagus. "Would you like these?" he asked. "I picked a carrier bagful yesterday, and by the time I come back at the weekend, these will be far to well grown to eat." How kind! Clearly I didn't need asking twice.
Off he went and I managed not to get overly sidetracked by the weeds - although I am cringing at the dandelion clocks everywhere I look in the edges and corner - and knuckled down to what I went to do.
So now I have two of the four wigwams stringed (strung?) up and two lots of peas planted out and before I came home, I put in a couple of rows of carrots, parsnip and lettuce.
Then home for a much needed bath.