We moved to Norfolk in the 1970s so that we could drop out, tune in and grow our own food. The Good Life was on the telly and we had all the latest books on self-sufficiency, what was there to stop us?

Well the mortgage for one thing; and bills for this and bills for that. Life got in the way of living. The garden wasn’t amenable to growing veg and I wasn’t amenable to going out after dark to search for half a dozen slimy sprouts. So we let forty years pass by until we were retired. By this time there were mutterings around the village of Forncett about allotments – or rather the lack of them. What few there were had been used by just one or two people for years, also two were being used by the playgroup as a safe play area.

Eventually a new patch of land was offered to those who wanted space to grow veg, and an Allotment Association was formed, tenancy agreements drawn up and plots pegged out. We paid our subscriptions and a date was set. I began writing this journal/diary of progress with no real thought of publication although I kept real names out of it so as not to cause offence (Sorry ‘Kenwood’ – you know who you are). It is by nature intermittent as the fine weather seduces me into going up there to check up on things. I may write more in the winter. I hope you enjoy it.