by Max Akroyd
Sometimes ‘normal’ life interferes with gardening progress: today I was impeded by the need to make bread and to pay our local taxes. Tomorrow I have to go to the opticians, remember how the letters ‘e’, ‘g’, ‘j’ and ‘o’ are pronounced in French, and replace my present pair of glasses which have been hopelessly degraded by being polished on my shirt whilst out in the field.
Anyway, the trench got dug as planned. I then raked off fifty metres of slightly raised bed in readiness for planting legions of shallots and garlic next week. I also set a couple of chickens loose in the polytunnel, reasoning that they might as well de-bug it before winter. If I get an hour of mowing done next the day will be salvaged to some extent.