Pile of Shite

Yes, I know I've been lax about updating but for the love of God what can anyone say about digging? You dig, you stop for a fag. You dig. You notice that it's been snowing for ten minutes and you're the only person on site. You say to yourself, ah to hell with it, another half an hour won't hurt.

Actually it was worth it last Saturday as the manure man cometh. He is a tiny chimpanzee in a checked shirt and a marked fen accent, and he approached me because I was the only one on site. (Digression - this reminds me of They Think It's All Over's description of Wayne Rooney: "It's as if someone shaved a monkey and kicked it through a sports shop".

Anyhoo, as of this Sunday just gone I am the proud possessor of a great big steaming pile of horse shite. As I was shovelling it onto a tarpaulin my landlord turned up along with one of the eejits and god love him the lovely Irish eejit gave me a hand. The landlord was also attempting to volunteer, despite gout, a bad back and a lack of forks, because apparently he used to win prizes for the neatness of his mounds back in the day. The things you find out about people.

Covered manure with tarpaulin. Also replaced tarpaulin on shent as it was having a whole Mary Poppins thing going on. Went home, stripped off in front of washing machine and dived into bath. Still hurt two days later. Weather forecast predicts nice mild rainy weather. We're doomed! We're all doomed.

Saturday. Dug another food trench, planted broad beans in bog rolls and sweet peas. Then thought 'I'll attack the really difficult bit with the solid clumps of weed root, that'll be fun'. Five hours later I'd cleared six foot by two.

Sunday. Couldn't get out of bed. D'oh.

Still, only 20 days till the clocks go back, and I can do this every day. Yay!