Winter Onions
Right then. If you’ve ever wondered what happens when a man sets out to mend one small puncture and ends up with a very long morning, pull up a bucket and have a read. Monday was one of those days that doesn’t count. I was away from the garden and the allotments all day, running about doing jobs that needed doing but that I’d rather not talk about, and by the evening I felt like a plant that’s been left in a hot greenhouse with the door shut. So Tuesday morning, when me, Sam and Iris turned up at the plot with a few trays of winter onions and a very fair bit of enthusiasm, it felt like proper medicine. The Plan (Which Lasted About Ten Minutes) The plan was simple, as most of our plans are right up to the point where they aren’t. Sam would rotovate the area we’d broad-forked back in August, and me and Iris would plant the onions out on the other allotment. Three people, two jobs, nothing to go wrong. Now, those of you who’ve been following along will know that August was dry. B...
