The Gardener Diaries. Part Two

I could hardly sleep last night, thinking about the lack of composting being done in my composter. I mean it's like having a dish washer and putting your dirty dishes there but not turning it on. Or having a laptop and not using it. The lack of productivity is just heinous.

Olive woke me up this morning at nine o'clock, making a sound like a food processor for reasons unknown. But enough of this, to the point.

At approximately three forty, I put on my coat, welllies, outdoor headscarf and headed for the door.
Now my plan was to empty the composter of the little detritus it contained, dig up the earth and replant it, before refilling it with it's contents, cursing the gardener the whole time. The first problem I encountered was lack of shovel.

The Lack of Shovel Problem
Basically, lack of shovel put a bit of a hole in my plans. I could hardly dig up the earth with my little spade, nor could I effectively plant the composter.
First stop was the shed.
Or should it be: The Shed.

Otherwise known as the End Of The World For Junk We don't Want to Get Rid of. You know what I'm talking about. When you have items that you don't use and don't want to clutter up your room, they first go to the landing, then maybe to the kitchen. Sometimes they'll get shoved in a cupboard, sometimes under someone's bed. Eventually they get sent to either the loft or the shed. In my house, it's the shed.

I unlocked the door and peered in, trying to ignore thoughts of creepy spiders creeping around and maybe jumping on my head and creeping around there, and instead very quickly did a search for a shovel. None was apparent. I braved the shed for a few more seconds, before turning tail.

I know, I showed cowardice in the face of danger. If this was Lord of the Rings, I would have been all "SURE SAURON! Have the shiny ring! Just don't make me go with the creepy spiders, mkay?!"I'm fairly disgusted with myself, I can tell you.

But I still didn't have a shovel, so I had to go to get one from the neighbours, unfortunately I was obstructed by momom.

Me: I'm going next door.
momom: why?
me: to get a shovel
momom: oh no, you're not doing anything like that.

Momom was concerned for my wellbeing, thought that shovelling compost was a dangerous activity, etc. She tried to convince me to let the gardener handle it. She was SO on his side. Obviously he'd got to her first. Luckily I explained carefully (with necessary drama) the situation and she became a late convert to the Sarah V Gardener cause, becoming quite vocal and enthusiastic by the end, and let me go get the shovel.

At the neighbours house
me: Please can I borrow your shovel?
neighbour: what for? the compost?
me: I'm going to kill someone! (elderly couple walk past and stare at us, I smile manically)
neighbour: Well the shovel might dent a bit, I suggest a knife.

I did get the shovel, however.

End: Lack of Shovel Problem

So I picked up the unsteady composter and pretty much threw it away, letting the grass cuttings inside flop over. Then I set to work digging a hole to put the composter in, for added contact with the worms.

The first problem was ..well I don't know how to use a shovel. I tried stepping on it and letting it sink into the soil like they do on tv, but I wasn't heavy enough and nothing happened. Eventually I settled for bracing myself against the shed (the outside isn't scary) and pushing against the top of the shovel, and in this way managed to get it in a bit. Eventually I made something of a hole. I began to sympathise with the Gardender a little bit. I mean, I was motivated by .. justice.. really, and even I didn't dig for as long as I could have. I mean the ground was SOLID. And my back really started to hurt, and the shovel was heavy! The Gardener isn't motivated by justice, he's motivated by money to spend half the year in Australia, as is his custom, and since he wasn't being paid more for the composter, it's understandable.

Eventually the composter was buried, the compost refilled, and the shovel returned.

Phew. At least it's clear that I won.

Like to see him mess with me again.