My flabber was gasted.

When I started my allotment it was with the intention of keeping costs to an absolute minimum, so that I could see a return for all those hours of labour put in. I wanted it to be in keeping with the old traditional allotment ethos. As a result, I have created a modest plot that is simple but efficient and though I may say it myself, is neat, well kept and stocked to full capacity.

However, I do admit that  I  look around at the plots of some of my neighbours with a touch of envy at times, green of course.

There are those that have taken out small bank loans to buy enough paving slabs to have perfect paths around their plots and between the beds. Whilst others have used their lottery winnings to purchase whole rain forests to make raised  beds.

Some have large new sheds, big enough to live in if their other halves ever kick them out, and made out of the best tongue and groove. Yes I have shed envy. They even have gutters and down pipes leading into not one, but two, water butts. How extravagant is that.

 One has a  lawned picnic area in front of a  shed adorned with beautiful hanging baskets, and a frame over the gate with a rambling rose growing up it. The family who have this plot come down in their droves at the weekend with petrol strimmers and rotovators whining away. They have it all spick and span in no time, and whilst I’m labouring away on my own with my trusty hoe cursing  the caterpillars, they’ll be cracking open the Stellas  at the picnic table and striking up the barbecue.

I sometimes wonder if growing vegetables has become a secondary function of their plots, the first being to impress the neighbours, and also, and more importantly I suspect, the judges of the Best Kept Allotment competition.

In contrast to all this, my paths are just plain trodden earth with  string to demarcate the individual growing beds. My humble shed was bought for the princely sum of £85, and had been reduced because there was a piece missing. It’s 6’x4’ and not big enough to swing a mouse around in it never mind a cat. I don’t have any manicured lawns or flowers, and the bench where I sit to eat my jam sandwiches is a simple plank of wood nailed onto two upright logs.Put it this way, they needed to have no fear of me winning the competition.

Anyway, I got home the other day to find a letter from the council on the doormat, and thinking it was an early bill for the rent, I opened it to see if they’d put it up.

Well you could have knocked me over with a feather, it was informing me with great pleasure that I am the winner of this years Best Kept Allotment in our parish!

Chuffin' eck, would you believe it !!!

The letter has also cordially invited me to the next parish council meeting in September to receive a whole £20’s worth of gardening vouchers and a certificate. I hope they don’t want me to make a speech !