A woman's wrath.

Where else would you find Charlotte sharing a bed with the Duke of York, and that brazen hussy Desiree bunking up with Maris Piper (Billie's sister)? On my allotment of course, yes, all the spuds are now nestled comfortably into their beds.

Now for a little rant.

There I was working on the next beds, breaking them down into a fine tilth, what a lovely word don’t you think, when I noticed a large black car pull up in the parking area and disgorge an officious looking fellow. Seeing as I was the only one about, it wasn’t long before he had made his way down to my plot and stood at the gate. As I had my Ipod in, I thought I might get away with just ignoring him, but seeing him gesturing like a demented Orang Utan meant I had to acknowledge him. Care in the community just isn’t working I thought.

“I am the Councillor responsible for allotments and we have had a complaint about vegetable matter being deposited in the hedgerows, do you know anything about it ?” he boomed.

I tried hard to keep my composure. “ And your name is... ?” I enquired.

Realising he had broken the first rule of good customer relations, and that there is an election coming up soon, he replied “Parker…N.” of course I should have known.

Was that Nigel? Neil? or Nosy? I tried unsuccesfully to stifle the snigger.

“Are you enquiring as to whether I’m the culprit or the complainer”, I asked, genuinely confused, but it seemed to go straight over his head. “There’s a few old carrots and onions someone's dumped over there”, I went on, “But it’s hardly a hanging matter is it, they’ll rot down”.

“That’s not the point though, we can’t have people just dumping things everywhere now can we”, he pontificated.

“What about the parking on the road into the site, now there’s something worthwhile you should be investigating”, I protested. But to no avail, he was there to catch the carrot fly-tipper, and nothing would deter him.

By this time I was getting pretty wound up, when along came Mary, the lady who has the next plot, and before long she was getting the third degree, but not for long.

“I hope you’re not accusing me, my good man !” she said, with enough venom to send him on his way with a flea in his ear. “Pompous idiot” she added loud enough for him to hear as he went to have a look around the rest of the site.

Well she’s a nice quiet lady, and I was a little taken a back by her reaction. A while later, she had need to fetch some water from the communal tap, near to where little Hitler had parked his panzer.

Passing my plot on her return, she said, “You’re going to think I’m rather awful at what I’ve just done”.

“ I hope you haven’t let his tyres down Mary”, I said jokingly.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t do anything like that”, she replied, “But I did spit on his car though!!!”.

He must have really rattled her.