No. IWhy I wrote it
"You've Got a Yard. Grow Something in It."
At 70 my knees gave out, and the walk to the allotment got too long. I sat about for most of a winter feeling sorry for myself.
The yard was grey flagstones, a wheelie bin, two pots of geraniums and a greenhouse full of junk. Forty years of leeks and potatoes, and now nothing.
Then our lass, Irene, pointed at the back yard. "You've got a yard," she said. "Grow something in it."
Behind an old fork by the water butt I found a builders' bucket. That bucket grew my first garlic.
Three years on, I pick something to eat in every month of the year. Not a lot in January, mind. But something.


