“Are you mad?”

It’s been raining since early December. Harsh gales and high tides have flooded regions of the country and he’s standing there with a wheelbarrow at eight thirty one February morning. Moving manure in a low-pressure tyred wheelbarrow rescued from a building site skip.


It’s a fair question, the madness one. His hands are cold and one of his knuckles is blooded. But the passionate guy last night had stressed the importance of getting animal manure into your compost. And top soil for the bacteria and microbial input. That and listening to the worms …



The winds had lifted roofs of some of the sheds, peeling them back like banana skins, had blown glass out of greenhouse frames, then set about lifting what was left and settling it askew and twisted on the emerging rhubarb.

In the distance, from where the weather came towards the allotments the clouds were piling up again; anvils full of hail and spite.

A fair question indeed. It made him smile.

“Not sure,” he began.

“Not sure I am in any way qualified to answer that one properly…”

He shook his head, feeling warm inside. Proud and warm.

“… but I worked as a teacher once. Thought it was the best job in the whole wide world. Loved every minute of it. Felt I was making a difference back in the day …”


“Then I quit and got an allotment. Am I mad? You work it out!”



flooded allotment;

compost heap:











2 responses to this post.

  1. That muck isn’t going to shift itself 😉


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