No veg this year
It was my dad who encouraged my interest in gardening. Well I say gardening, but what I mean is growing veg. I was a tot in the 70s (yes, I'm really that old! I know, it's the lighting that makes me look younger..) and that included a lot of penny-pinching: well before it became trendy! My parents both took evening classes as they were free. Instead of doing up the house they had bought in 1969, we all managed with no heating and little spare cash. But my dad got the bug. He converted our 1950s semi-detached garden (about 100 feet long) into something akin to The Good Life, and got a second-hand metal and glass greenhouse with a paraffin heater. As a shift-worker, dad had three ten-hour day shifts followed by two 14-hour night shifts and three days off. He had five days where he could do a little tending - watering, checking on seedlings and slug-removal. On his days off he would plan, plant, dig and rake. Mum would take him cups of tea and they'd chat over a fag. We had
