I was never a big one for gardening. It may have something to do with the fact the only thing our garden grew when I was young was enough nettles to keep Yarg in cheese-wrappers for a year.
Not to say I wasn't aware of where our fresh food came from. It was either the shop on the corner or Gary Lineker's fruit and veg stall on Leicester Market.
But a couple of years ago I was struck with an urge to start growing my own produce. Not sure where it came from, but maybe watching too many re-runs of River Cottage.
Fortunately Hugh FW hasn't left me with a desire to jack it all in and move to Dorset, nor do I feel the need to picket Tesco over the price of their chickens while foraging for nuts in a hedgerow.
But the desire to grow, to get mud under my fingernails and a kink in my spine, is still there.
So when the email dropped into my inbox offering me a tenancy agreement on a plot, I leapt at the chance.
Having seen the amount of digging it's going to take to get the plot into shape, it may be the last leaping I ever do without extensive chiropractic intervention.
So this weekend we made our first trip to the plot as official allotment tenants, burdened with all the garden tools we have and a couple of pasties.
I'm not sure how long the plot has been left untended. The couple two plots down have been on theirs for two-and-a-half years and they say them seem to remember someone being on our patch when they first arrived.
So how best to described the plot? I could start by saying I wouldn't be too surprised if I came across a previous tenant trapped in the undergrowth.
We've had lots of advice from people on how best to clear the site, mostly involving flamethrowers, and I must admit it is very tempting to go 'jungle warfare'. I've investigated the pros and cons of Agent Orange or maybe just an airstrike involving Daisy Cutters and napalm.
I love the smell of napalm in the morning, reminds me of...vegetables.
Perhaps not.
Anyway, all the books (and we've borrowed enough from the library to strengthen our backs for the digging task ahead) say it's important to clear the ground by hand with a spade to get to know your soil.
Getting to know your soil, not sure if that sounds hippy-ish or Jeremy Kyle-ish.
After a half-hour digging and hacking on Saturday morning, we decided to ditch the fork, and try the pasties instead.
Then a couple more hours with the pruning and the digging and the building a huge pile of junk in the middle of the plot.
We also cleared a path to the two sheds, where we found, amongst other things, a chemical toilet, a large patio table with parasol and chairs and a hand-plough the type of which hasn't been used since the 14th century.
OK, enough, we give up - to assorted comments from our allotmenting neighbours.
Sunday saw more of the same, with the added benefit of heavy showers and high winds. But at least one small patch in the middle of the site is now reddy-brown, instead of green, and the fruit cage now has just plants in it, instead of plants, glass, rotten chipboard and rusted spikes.
Over the next few weeks, months....years, I'll let you know how we get on clearing the plot and eventually planting a few, er, planty-things and finally digging them up and eating them.
Any advice, thoughts and comments will be appreciated.
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