So having got some more grass clippings, and secured them from being liberated by a person or persons unknown I was eventually able to plant all the rest of the potatoes on the Clay Hill allotment. They take up three beds, which are roughly 5 by 11. I noticed the other day that one of the earlies was poking out of the ground.

I also noticed that one of my rhubarb plants has been nibbled, can't remember the variety.


Note to myself, to make a proper plan, but just thinking about it briefly I've got 10 beds in the back garden, 9 on Clay Hill and 11 at Eden Lane, that's 30 odd, I'll have to make a plan of these. Plus I've got the names sorted out, result.

I've also got a gnome for Eden Lane, got to have a gnome.

It's a beautiful day, I'm off allotmenteering.

The Strange Case of the Grass Clippings

This case sticks in my mind as a strange combination of nefarious cunning and petty intrigue, it was just after Holmes and I, Doctor Watson the erstwhile recorder of his fantastic cases, had just taken over an allotment. The shortage of allotments in London was such that it had even forced Holmes to leave the cosy environs of Baker Street to move to the dreary hills of south London. We managed to secure a reasonable house in the dull suburb of Dulwich, where the local inhabitants seem to be fascinated by white posts. I propose to study this sometime, for surely this must be an example of a deep-seated twee syndrome.

A few years ago we had had recourse to travel the high ways and many low ways of south London as he investigated his celebrated case of "The Diamond Geezer of Streatham," and after, for many weeks, his rooms had been as full of opium smoke as the dreadful crater of a rumbling volcano as he tried to forget the horror of south London.

I began to fear the worst, as after we had laid waste to the weeds of the long forgotten plot, and had then exerted ourselves in hearty digging of the lumpen clay soil, we divided the plot into two and I proposed to grow on my half some potatoes and other roots along with some runner and broad beans; healthful vegetables that would drive away the soots of London. However, Holmes' first enthusiasm for deep beds and bio-dynamic gardening seemed to have withered on the vine, and looking at his planting plan there seemed to be a preponderance of poppy beds and a small hemp plantation.

It was then, that an instance of great peculiarity served to jolt Holmes from his moribund state. One afternoon I had given the extensive lawns that we had at the back of the house their first cut of the season. Being of the mind to be as efficient as possible I thought I'll save the grass clippings so as to use them to plant the potatoes on, it stops scab growing on them.

Imagine my surprise on the morning of Good Friday that I came around the side of our house and saw that the bag of grass clippings had been emptied, with just a few clips left on the floor. Who could have taken them. I instantly thought that i should try to use the methods of my renowned companion. i instantly deduced that it must be a desperate person who would steal grass clippings; for what intent though? it must surely be some insane composter who seeing me cutting the lawn had though "yes, I shall have those for my very own heap," no doubt rubbing his hands in some mephistophelean glee.

"Quite, quite, Watson, don't get carried away, what we are looking at here is quite simply the work of..."

to be continued