The Start of the Farewells

With contracts on the four houses in our 'chain' now signed, and a date of the 19th November agreed for completion, we've begun packing and clearing our belongings ready for a move back to Scotland. One of the things to which we're saying a sad farewell is our allotment. Each allotment on the town's sites is ten poles (about 250 square metres) but most people, like us, have half that - which is quite enough to keep two people in vegetables and fruit for a good proportion of the year.

Our allotments are changing in character, with a new housing estate rising at the west end. This cuts them off from the countryside so we've not seen the fox for some time.

Our produce has been grown under constant siege. The pigeons are the biggest problem, so most of our raised beds have been protected by frames covered with plastic netting. The cabbage whites quickly found ways of getting in through the mesh so, with the tits and other birds unable to pick them off, their caterpillars have eaten their way through a fair proportion of what we've grown. But the soil is incredibly rich - if a bit heavy after all the recent rain - so we've done well despite their depredations. At the moment we're still harvesting kale, broccoli, leeks, carrots and - amazingly - some very small courgettes; and there are still a few raspberries ripening on the canes.

One of the miracles of our allotment has been the shed. When we first took it over the council offered to demolish it but we kept it. A layer of new felt keeps most of the rain out, and we lock it religiously each time we head home, though the wooden planks are so ancient that one can easily push ones hand through them.

We have often sat by the shed with a cup of coffee, relaxing, enjoying the sun and the wildlife that visits. We've also made some good acquaintances with surrounding allotment holders, several of whom have given us seedlings and, of course, plenty of advice.

Along with the beach hut, the allotment was part of our attempt to integrate back into English life. The experiment has failed but we'll look back with some very happy memories of this five poles of rich English soil.