A home for old bathtubs.....

Fereday and I spent a couple of hours yesterday weeding on a friend's allotment. I haven't been on an allotment since living at 'husband the first's' mother's house, a period I have largely blocked out of my memory, so I don't really recall what it was like... so, my first outing onto a proper allotment site was really great. Here's some things I noticed:- an old bathtub is completely de rigeur, those who have them treat them with studied disdain (like owning a Merc, but never cleaning it), while looking down on those who don't.... those who don't have one look on with barely concealed envy....- sheds come in all shapes and sizes... and are made of all sorts of bits and pieces....- the Health and Safety Executive clearly treats allotment sites as a no-go area, bit like the police in Leeds treat Chapeltown.... I saw precariously high piles of bricks.... the bathtubs were deep enough to drown a child and had no safety mesh!....- old doors can be made into fences... the English really seem to have something about fencing off a little patch of land... there's no 'common land' on the allotments, it's really like a representation of old England in alot of ways, each allotment holder is baron on his own patch, and the place positively seethes with envy and the dark passion to grow a better marrow than one's neighbour....- a clean and tidy car boot will provoke a derisory snort from the pleasant looking old chap who fulfills the role of 'Major-General' .... he's been on site forever and, I suspect, is the defacto ruler of the place.... he alone, perhaps, knows how the plots have been numbered.... his is 2A, is the prime site, has the biggest bathtub and established fruit trees.... the site is occupied by the most frightfully lopsided greenhouse cum shed thing I have ever seen.... I wonder whether behind this allotment character is a man whose conversation at home is limited to "Yes, dear"....- everyone who passes the Council's community site looks at the raised beds which offer a back-ache free alternative with envy.... yet no one, but no one feels they can show weakness by moving to the raised bed approach... an achy back appears to be a badge of honour... personally, I feel it's a bit like wanting to ride a bicycle without a seat....- a bit like joining the Executive of a large company, you get keys to the toilets when you are an allotment holder....- working on an allotment makes the post-allotment flagon of wine taste better, the bed more comfy, and the sleep more sound....And onto Sunday morning and other matters... a shiny magazine titled "VQ" has the affrontery to plop out of the bundle that is the Sunday Times... this is the magazine of the Leeds' Shopping Precinct, "The Victoria Quarter"... Harvey Nichols, Viv Westwood, Karen Millen, etc.... this wee tome further cements my dislike of the city which I have to travel to or (much better) through several times a month for work.... when I first came to Leeds in the late 90's, it was a bit down at heel, but quite bo-ho.... Now, it's setting itself as some kind of pastiche Dubai of Yorkshire... new tower blocks in various stages of construction are popping up everywhere, there's even one which looks like it's intended as the 'Burg Al Leeds' - you can see it and countless others as you go into the station from the London side, they're clustered around where the canal used to be (or might still be, but you can't really tell anymore) ... with house prices and the economy on the slide, I'm worried that Leeds' overly ambitious building programme is not so much looking towards a shining new future, but is, in actual fact, constructing the slums for the next generation.... what it's doing to the wild life around the canal, I dread to think.... Still, maybe I'm overly pessimistic and Leeds' town planners know something I don't... for all our sakes, I really hope they do!

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