Just got back in -- it's just gone 9pm here. Had no idea how quickly the time went -- we ended up spending 5 hours on the plot today.
And classically, not only did I forget to carry the second dalek back home, I also forgot to take the tray of accidental new potatoes that I'd found whilst digging over the old bed, and these were supposed to become tonight's tea. Crumbs. Tomorrow, they'll either be munched by Mr Mucus and friends or shrivelled up in the sun.
It's never lonely on the allotment. There are few people here, granted, but the allotment kittie keeps us company, and Mr Kropotkin's very good friend, Mr Bakunin, also stopped by for a chat and a wormburger while I was digging over the old compost site, which we'd moved. I took the opportunity of asking him about the anarchist conundrum whereby usually only a few motivated and community-minded people end up doing all the hard work, like digging, I said pointedly in his direction, while everyone else just buggers off and sits in the sunshine eating wormburgers. Mr Bakunin did something with his beak that looked like a smile and said that if I wanted to remain a capitalist blowhard, he'd be happy to charge me £400 a day plus expenses to get rid of my ant problem in the kitchen. Then he flew off, his half-eaten wormburger writhing indignantly in front of me.
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