Mandy Sutter, Writer

When I mention the allotment to friends, they often say ‘how rewarding, eating your own veg! And all that fresh air you get.’

These friends aren’t allotment-holders. The ones that are raise their eyebrows and silently clasp my shoulder to express their sympathy at this difficult time of year.

A blog post from 2012 in memory of my Dad… Dad and I haven’t used weedkiller on the allotment yet. That’s because Dad thinks the plot ‘only takes an hour to clear’ and I have a vague prejudice against chemicals and an idea that all the bending and stretching involved will help me lose weight. […]

A highlight from my blog about Dad’s allotment, in which he makes his own teeth… Dad is right about the blackcurrant bushes. I slash through the nettle jungle with a bill hook, a vicious thing I bought at the local tool shop. My hands tingle and throb despite my new gardening gauntlets – even my […]

It’s amazing what a fortnight away can do. When I visited the allotment this morning, it looked like the allotment of a Proper Gardener.