Summary
A SEA of grey, glutinous, grasping mud stretches out all around me, like a scene from All Quiet On The Western Front. My wellington- booted feet sink inexorably deeper into the cold, clammy slime - where my vegetable patch ought to be. And my gardener's heart sinks equally inexorably and equally deeply.
This may surprise some of my regular readers. But I genuinely am a gardener - not an especially good one, or even a particularly knowledgeable one, but a gardener for all that. Nor, I hasten to add, am I one of those Green Party parvenus who have embraced the Great Outdoors in recent years for purely ideological or fashionable reasons.See the full content of this document
Extract
I Wish the Grow Your Own Brigade Would Shut Up. I've Been at It 20 Years and Already This Season Slugs Have Decimated My Lettuce Seedlings. Twice! [Eire Region]
Thankfully, too, neither am I one of those naive credit crunch victims who fell for the pastoral soft-sell of the Green evangelists earlier this year (we even had a few of them in the Mail) and were persuaded to dig up their back garden or - even worse - rent an allotment, convinced that a few hours' healthy exercise once or twice a week would k...
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