Good evening all who dare to join me!
As you will of realised by now (maybe) I am the queen of the unfinished project. If I may expand. I've given up on the allotment. It may surprise you to know that growing, maintaining and even thinking about plants is hard bloody work, and I appear to have an allergy to said form of exertion. Basically, I couldn't be arsed.
I decided that 'The Good Life' just isn't for me, especially at the moment, what with kid's, work, pot washing and not giving a shit. But I've now had two "not good for me at the moment" moments and have therefore drawn the conclusion that it's clearly not for me.
Don't get me wrong, I love the idea of growing, tilling the land and all that shite, but when it comes to the crunch, I'm just not crunchy. I'm rather like a box of unwanted bran flakes, long opened and forgotten about. More soft and flaccid than crisp and crunchy as far as allotment work goes anyhow. I should just plan somebody else's allotment, I'd be awesome at that. Fantastic even, telling them what to do, researching what to put where, what not to put where and what to definitely wash your hands after touching, before going to the loo! That's it! I'm going to write a book on how to be an allotment owner without an allotment. Problem solved. I am winning!
Well, now we've gone over what I'm not good at, here's what I appear to be awesome at. EATING. Do I want to be talented at this? Hell no! But it appears to be one of my top 3 talents at least. as I can't stop shovelling crap into my mouth! If I could only dig potato trenches as well as I can dig into the biscuit tin, the allotment would be thriving.
I've put half a stone on again this year because I stopped going to fat camp, so I need to start that up again or I'll end up growing chins, better than I ever grew cucumbers! So Slimming World it is, planning food and being aware of hand mouth coordination.
Well just a short and sweet entry about nothing in particular, as most of my type style dabblings appear to be. Good night, sleep tight and finger's crossed that I don't have an extra chin upon waking! Good God, I really must move that biscuit tin!
