24 August 2012

It's A Gypsy Life For Me

The other morning Sally invited me back to the wonderful Bradley Fold Allotments to pick black beans from a friend's plot.
Bradley Fold Allotments
Can You Spot Sally Hogging The Limelight Again?

Bradley Fold Allotments
We wondered what we would do if we had a corner of the plot. Would we grow flowers or vegetables? Hollyhocks and Calendula are definitely on the list. Sally drew up plans for a pen her tortoises could use while she did some weeding - think tortoise creche.

Ideally we hoped we'd get the corner with the shed in it. Since a major part of the wish for an allotment space is the dream of just sitting outside with a book and a cup of tea (well, it is for me), this shed has the advantage of a little decking area. Can you imagine perching on there, with perhaps a glass of wine, and a woodburning stove at your feet? Sally is a vegetarian so I would probably have to bring my own sausages.

The inside of the shed would have to be cleaned up - as Sally put it 'Kath Kidsonised'. Our families would wonder why we kept taking cushions and curtains down to the allotment; surely wellies and trowels are more appropriate. Gradually the shed would turn into a place where we could escape from normal life. It occurred to us that it might get used so much a schedule would have to be drawn up, so that when we turned up in desperate need for solitude there wasn't the likelihood the other was already there, settled into her own personal refuge.

Over time we could surreptitiously bring four wheels and a couple of axles into the allotment. A wheel a fortnight wouldn’t raise any suspicions I don’t think. In the dead of night we’d do some heavy engineering. Lit by camping lamps, and with the help of a ‘Make A Wagon’ handbook, we would slide the wheels under the shed and turn it into a caravan. I haven’t worked out how we’d keep the horse a secret - though there would be plenty of food for it while we hid it - but the day would finally come when we’d hitch up the horse, sit on that decking area and go ‘giddy up’ and trot off out of the allotment, down Didsbury high street, and out into the far blue yonder.

Admittedly, being mums, we’d have to come back to make the tea and put in a new wash and find lost socks, but that moment of escape would be worth all the hassle of converting the shed to a caravan.

Or should we knock that idea on the head and grow potatoes instead?

The sound of two escaping women:

(This recording was made by Peter Wyeth who has an interesting blog)

Here are some decorative ideas: