I can’t lie. There are some days when this allotment malarchy seems like black magic. Other allotmenteers tending their weed free plots of sieved earth. I’m not jealous, just in awe. 

I stood in my plot deciding which bit to weed first when a tall man with cap and a beard came and said hello.  This, although I didn’t know until later was Bear. And Bear turned out to be a very useful man to know. 

Bear asked about my plot, we chatted about travel and countries to visit.  The sun was shining, I was leaning on my fork. Allotmenting didn’t seem too hard. 

Bear also asked if I had my potatoes in.  I didn’t. Potatoes growing seem tricky; neat mounds of earth and then piling up when leaves show. I thought it might be a crop to tackle in season two. 

Before I knew it, Bear had commendeered my fork and I was scurrying around gathering up a rake and a length of string for a make shift line and we were preparing a small plot for potatoes. 

After digging a trench, we went to Bears polytunnel for potatoes. 

The small potatoes were spaced about a foot apart and the earth liked on top into a long, neat mound with a pointed summit. 

I marked them up ‘Bears Spuds’. 

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