I'm rubbish

Dragged Best Friend up to plot today ("Come for a day in Cambridge! We'll do lovely outdoors things. The Backs? Well, the back of somewhere.") I'm rubbish. My garlic and onions have bolted, slugs are devouring the runner beans, accidentally planted dwarf beans around my bean pole pyramid, so will now have to replace them, and my lawn is four foot tall.

On the upside, fed Best Friend raspberries, strawberries, raw peas, raw broad beans, redcurrants, blackcurrants and gooseberries. Then went to see my friends' plot, which is what mine should have looked like, and discovered a public cherry tree that we foraged from (looked like monkeys). So I may be rubbish, but BF thinks I'm great.

Not exactly produce...

...as one would have to have proof that one had produced the produce and used it for a meal. Whereas what happened is that I went up to the allotment on Sunday for a couple of hours and ate strawberries until I felt sick.

Am now attempting to replicate my achievement with strawberry flavoured mushroom shaped pick and mix, which I think may contain cocaine as there's no other explanation for my inability to stop scarfing them. I'm a pig.