Ye Gods this hurts...
How not to approach preparing your allotment for spring planting:
1. Make sure that five energetic blokes are digging and clearing the plot next to you. This will make you feel jealous, motivated and deeply guilty at the same time. Make sure if possible that you also have someone working on the plot on the other side with a big French tool and that all other plots on the site as far as the eye can see were double dug in Autumn.
2. Don't undertake any physical activity for anything up to fifteen years. Don't even run for the bus. Get someone to hold cups of tea to your mouth if possible.
3. Instead of doing an hour at a time, like the five energetic blokes on the plot next to you who are running a sort of shift system, try to stay up at the plot for as long as there's anyone else there.
4. If you can, use a big French tool that you are relatively unfamiliar with, weighs a considerable amount, and causes you to use muscles in your arms, hands, shoulders and back that are almost entirely undeveloped in human beings that don't belong to the Eastern European Shotput and Hammer Federation.
5. Occasionally transfer to a fork, spade, and grass hook to ensure no muscle group misses its punishment.
6. Get up on Sunday and do it again.
7. Then go to work in a kitchen.
End result: (a) Very little actually cleared because it's too damned cold to stick your bare hands in the soil to get the perennial roots; (b) it looks even worse because the buggers on the other plot (including an archaeologist, natch, and an Australian who grew up on a farm, double natch) have done so much more than you; (c) your hands hurt when you try to grip a pen.
8. Get drunk. It's the only way forward. You know it. I know it. Gin solves everything.
1. Make sure that five energetic blokes are digging and clearing the plot next to you. This will make you feel jealous, motivated and deeply guilty at the same time. Make sure if possible that you also have someone working on the plot on the other side with a big French tool and that all other plots on the site as far as the eye can see were double dug in Autumn.
2. Don't undertake any physical activity for anything up to fifteen years. Don't even run for the bus. Get someone to hold cups of tea to your mouth if possible.
3. Instead of doing an hour at a time, like the five energetic blokes on the plot next to you who are running a sort of shift system, try to stay up at the plot for as long as there's anyone else there.
4. If you can, use a big French tool that you are relatively unfamiliar with, weighs a considerable amount, and causes you to use muscles in your arms, hands, shoulders and back that are almost entirely undeveloped in human beings that don't belong to the Eastern European Shotput and Hammer Federation.
5. Occasionally transfer to a fork, spade, and grass hook to ensure no muscle group misses its punishment.
6. Get up on Sunday and do it again.
7. Then go to work in a kitchen.
End result: (a) Very little actually cleared because it's too damned cold to stick your bare hands in the soil to get the perennial roots; (b) it looks even worse because the buggers on the other plot (including an archaeologist, natch, and an Australian who grew up on a farm, double natch) have done so much more than you; (c) your hands hurt when you try to grip a pen.
8. Get drunk. It's the only way forward. You know it. I know it. Gin solves everything.
posted by Bupster at 6:56 pm
3 Comments:
Amen, sister! My puny efforts have been shown up for the puny efforts they are by the builders currently working like trojans (the people, not the rubber jonnies) in any temperature right next to my still unfinished and puny-looking plot.
It hurts alright. It hurts my manly pride.
I feel your pain ... that job is still to come for me, and I am wincing at the very thought of it. I am hoping my stronger and better half will volunteer to help ...
I was going to say something along the lines of: can't you - as a girl - persuade the strapping blokes to dig your plot too - in return for drinks and cakes served hourly....but no! - You can't let them see your pain. They mustn't win. Get back out there woman - don't you let the side down now......cough...blimey too much feminism makes my head swim... pass that gin!
Post a Comment
<< Home