The Call

When I was growing up in New Zealand I wanted to be a horticulturist. I can remember visiting my Nana and spending what seemed like hours out in her backyard in her vegetable garden picking whatever was ready to eat for dinner that night. My favourite meal was mashed vegetables (with lots of butter!) which she let me have every night when I stayed with her.

Years went by. At high school, horticulture suddenly became about chemistry and physics; two subjects I knew nothing about and was destined to fail. I needed to rethink my career as I was never going to get into university to study horticulture let alone actually get a degree in it. So I became something else, but I always had a garden; flower and vegetable.

Jump forward a few more years and I left New Zealand for the UK. I didn't have a garden in the UK. After about six years I put my number down on the waiting list for an allotment. I didn't hold out much hope; the secretary told me people rarely let their allotments go and there was a long waiting list.

Years passed, twice I got a letter asking if I still wanted to be on the list since it wasn't moving, twice I replied saying I did.

Late one July afternoon some six years later, I finally got a call to say an allotment had become available and I was next up on the list. Did I want it? Can you believe I actually asked if I could call back the next day as I was so shocked I didn't know what to say? A few hours later I called back to say I definitely wanted it and two days later my husband and I went along to the allotment to hand over a cheque, collect keys and see what was now our plot. It was overgrown and was going to need a lot of work before we could plant anything. I took a photo and then we headed straight to B&Q to buy gardening gloves!