Healing sheds

The shed is mine, hurrah! Had a long rather surreal conversation with Antonio, one of the Sicilian brothers who paid for it two years ago. He sounded very gruff and threatening on his earlier phone messages, but revealed that he is a healer and an artist and lived for a long time in Australia. I didn’t want to go into too much detail about my life in case he felt I needed a spot of healing (he spends a lot of time ‘healing’ Janet).  But I did want to impress upon him the fact that I’m a serious gardener and I really need the shed. Done. So the cheque is in the post and on we go. And I have finally learned the name of the allotmenteer who had my plot for over 30 years. His name was Bill Hamilton. Now that’s a nugget. Antonio even remembers helping him prune his apple trees and that was a long way back.

Planted eight more dwarf French beans in cardboard tubes this morning. I know that I am going to lose at least half to the slugs, so I have to sow lots.