Couch Grass. Just Couch Grass.
Couch grass is all I can see. My amazing shady bed is finally sprouting spinach seedlings (the ones I didn't pull out as weeds) but unfortunately is also sprouting vast quantities of couch grass, and something else that is suspiciously similar to the rocket and the cress so I can't pull it out until the others have got bigger and distinguishable. But mostly grass. Lesson number 1: prepare, prepare, prepare. Must stop being so damned lazy. I've spent twice as much time weeding the damned bed already than it would have taken me to roughly dig it over. I am a pillock. What am I?
So approaching the bed I had vaguely set aside for spring onions, I decided to give it bollocks and actually dig it over. Turns out digging is really really hard work when you come across a patch that hasn't been rotavated twice in the previous month. Full, and I mean full, of couch grass roots; there were spadefuls that seemed to be more couch than soil. Am going to have to go through it all if I'm going to try to grow spring onions, although the overwintering onion sets might tough it out. Listen to me, like I have a clue what I'm talking about. Three weeks ago you could have told me onions grew on a bush.
And I keep buying damned seeds and making myself more work! I think the only way forward may be to get organized. Bloody miserable weather here today (again); perhaps I should try to buy myself a daft exercise book and plan out the plot. I could draw pretty coloured lines to mark out where various seeds are and where they're supposed to go. Drawback to cunning plan is of course that lots of seeds, ie the ones for sowing shortly, are in half a shed wrapped in a binbag, and I'm damned if I'm going up to the plot in the rain to wallow around in the mud just to write down a list of seeds. Must stop overusing 'damned', as well.
Aha! Cunning plan #2: print out receipts from email - or better still, cut and paste the seeds into a new document!
Which would have worked if I'd kept the receipts, I'm sure. However, I never throw a piece of paper away if it can lurk in the flat and annoy eejit features, so I may well have kept the slips that come with the seeds and tell you what you've wasted money on. So this may yet work... At any rate, it'll kill an hour or so and satisfy my inner chartered accountant (the dark part of my soul that leads me to list even my close family, ie dad and siblings, under their surname in my address book).
I also may make an apple pie. I have no idea how to make an apple pie, but how hard can it be? I own scrumped apples (I am such a girl about creepy crawlies these days. Gone are the halcyon times when I could chase people round playgrounds with earthworms. Luckily, as that would be a bit weird at my age. Ew. Anyway, apples: Kept shuddering at apples with holes, bearing spiders etc. What's that all about? I am choosing, of my own accord, to spend hours every week in a mudhole - squeamishness is really picking a stupid time to make its introductions). Back on topic. I own flour, and two types of sugar, and butter, and some odd cinnamon that's been sitting in a Past Times Tudor Spice Box for about forty years since my mother bought it and ignored it. If there are other things that go in apple pies, I don't want to know about them. I also have half-made chicken stock to finish, and chicken to stuff in pitta bread with spinach and tomato, and a steak I bought last night and didn't eat because I went to the pub to read the paper instead. No reason whatsoever to leave nice warm flat for cold damp allotment. (If I had nothing to do at home I would feel guilty for abandoning cold damp allotment as soon as it got cold and damp). Buying weed suppressant fabric and wellies can wait until tomorrow, when the sun is shining, and I feel ridiculous doing so.
Of course Robert Sayles is open late tonight, and I do have a brand new credit card, so I could see if they sell wellies. I bet they do. I bet they sell green ones like the Queen wears. Will sneak in on the way home and have a look. Welly update tomorrow. I'm sure you're all bating your breath like nobody's business.
So approaching the bed I had vaguely set aside for spring onions, I decided to give it bollocks and actually dig it over. Turns out digging is really really hard work when you come across a patch that hasn't been rotavated twice in the previous month. Full, and I mean full, of couch grass roots; there were spadefuls that seemed to be more couch than soil. Am going to have to go through it all if I'm going to try to grow spring onions, although the overwintering onion sets might tough it out. Listen to me, like I have a clue what I'm talking about. Three weeks ago you could have told me onions grew on a bush.
And I keep buying damned seeds and making myself more work! I think the only way forward may be to get organized. Bloody miserable weather here today (again); perhaps I should try to buy myself a daft exercise book and plan out the plot. I could draw pretty coloured lines to mark out where various seeds are and where they're supposed to go. Drawback to cunning plan is of course that lots of seeds, ie the ones for sowing shortly, are in half a shed wrapped in a binbag, and I'm damned if I'm going up to the plot in the rain to wallow around in the mud just to write down a list of seeds. Must stop overusing 'damned', as well.
Aha! Cunning plan #2: print out receipts from email - or better still, cut and paste the seeds into a new document!
Which would have worked if I'd kept the receipts, I'm sure. However, I never throw a piece of paper away if it can lurk in the flat and annoy eejit features, so I may well have kept the slips that come with the seeds and tell you what you've wasted money on. So this may yet work... At any rate, it'll kill an hour or so and satisfy my inner chartered accountant (the dark part of my soul that leads me to list even my close family, ie dad and siblings, under their surname in my address book).
I also may make an apple pie. I have no idea how to make an apple pie, but how hard can it be? I own scrumped apples (I am such a girl about creepy crawlies these days. Gone are the halcyon times when I could chase people round playgrounds with earthworms. Luckily, as that would be a bit weird at my age. Ew. Anyway, apples: Kept shuddering at apples with holes, bearing spiders etc. What's that all about? I am choosing, of my own accord, to spend hours every week in a mudhole - squeamishness is really picking a stupid time to make its introductions). Back on topic. I own flour, and two types of sugar, and butter, and some odd cinnamon that's been sitting in a Past Times Tudor Spice Box for about forty years since my mother bought it and ignored it. If there are other things that go in apple pies, I don't want to know about them. I also have half-made chicken stock to finish, and chicken to stuff in pitta bread with spinach and tomato, and a steak I bought last night and didn't eat because I went to the pub to read the paper instead. No reason whatsoever to leave nice warm flat for cold damp allotment. (If I had nothing to do at home I would feel guilty for abandoning cold damp allotment as soon as it got cold and damp). Buying weed suppressant fabric and wellies can wait until tomorrow, when the sun is shining, and I feel ridiculous doing so.
Of course Robert Sayles is open late tonight, and I do have a brand new credit card, so I could see if they sell wellies. I bet they do. I bet they sell green ones like the Queen wears. Will sneak in on the way home and have a look. Welly update tomorrow. I'm sure you're all bating your breath like nobody's business.
posted by Bupster at 4:32 pm
2 Comments:
Must try that, not sure if I like beetroot, but intending to give most of my produce away anyway :) - always supposing I can find anyone daft enough to eat it!. Is it a good plot?
Oh wow. Planespotters. You'll never feel odd by comparison.
I need more details about the convention centre - is it in the shape of a plane? What do planespotters do when they convene?
Post a Comment
<< Home