Greenbank Drive Allotments

Allotments are odd places, full of odd people doing odd things. Grow your own vegetables? Get lost. That takes ages. There’s a Tesco round the corner. They sell houmous and Wotsits.
That’s pretty much the opinion I have ninety percent of the time, until I manage to find myself in this wonderful shantytown of ramshackle sheds, gobbling hens and clanging wind chimes. Pottering around watching things you’ve planted grow into incredible edibles must be enormously satisfying and is the only thing about old age I’m looking forward to. Obviously by that time it’ll be the future so I’ll be growing triffids, four-​leafed clovers and cybernetic trees. Don’t laugh, Nostradamus predicted it.
On a side note, owing to the long-​lasting tenure a person can have over their individual patch, the waiting lists for these places is so long you might as well plant turf on the moon and wait for it to be terraformed. It’ll be quicker.