Allot’a Love

Allota Love - Hello Sam Goodbye Samantha

See what I did there? Almost like a play on words, hey? Almost.

Now this image would strike fear into the hearts of a lot of people, and I don’t think I’m being presumptuous when I say particularly a lot of lifestyle bloggers.

But to some, granted, this is an image of possibility. This is a photo of the entrance to our local allotments, and it’s one of my favourite places. I could be imagining it, but the air just smells fresher and cleaner here, despite what I imagine to be the huge concentration of manure within the fences.

Allotments do tend to look a bit scabby, often with greenhouses cobbled together from scraps. But I think they’re utterly charming, and the sight of people pottering around and being occupied but not busy makes me feel so gosh darn happy.

We’ve got so much to do on our plot, namely because it’s a) huge and b) steep and c) overgrown. I’m trying not to get too overwhelmed by it though, and am taking a ‘little and often’ approach to going. Last night I only stayed for 20 minutes, but got a bit more digging done and met my lovely neighbouring allotmenteer.

I’ve got my gloves, got my wellies and I’ve even got green bits poking up already! It’s almost as if I knew what I was doing!! HAHAHA.

A Very Bon Soir Indeed

Bon Soir - Hello Sam Goodbye Samantha

Mr Hello knows I love a good fire. I adore this time of the year, when now that the clocks have changed, we have lovely longer evenings before the dreaded darkness sets in.

My idea of the perfect fire, however, involves sitting in the garden chair with a glass of wine, occasionally throwing a log in the chiminea.

Mr H’s idea of the perfect fire, is getting the incinerator out and ploughing his way through the vast pile of logs we’ve accumulated since cutting down a few trees in our garden.

This mismatch of expectations has long been a source of discontent between us, and the odd teary strop thrown on *ahem* somebody’s behalf. Does it make me a crim to not want to spend every evening doing something to improve the house? No. No it does not.

However, we appear to have reached a perfect compromise. Mr H runs around like a loon, brandishing loppers and waving dry branches around, and I sit down in the garden seat with a glass of wine and watch. And throw the odd log in the incinerator.

Perfick.

Wandering/Wondering

Since getting the car at the start of January, I’ve been getting a whole lot less exercise, and so last week I decided to remedy it by going for a long post-work walk.

View from Rochester - Hello Sam Goodbye Samantha Walking Sam - Hello Sam Goodbye Samantha The Steps - Hello Sam Goodbye Samantha The Shorts Brothers - Hello Sam Goodbye Samantha

Gosh the motivation to get out of the house after 5:30pm is hard to come by! I did, however, rather enjoy my lone walk – I wandered past a house I used to live in, walked my old work route, then up a bloody great hill which made me get my sweat on, but rewarded me with a magnificent view.

I spotted the sign commemorating the Short Brothers on my travels, the very same chaps who were the inspiration behind The Seaplane Works.

On my way home I trotted through the woods near our allotment plot, smiling at all the dogs and their walkers, before getting a sneak peek of our allotment. It makes me so happy to see – there are actual garden beds guys, and they have things growing  in them. Crazy talk.

Now I’m on half term the plan is to get out and about a little bit more – I have plenty of seeds I can be potting up to germinate and a lot more of Rochester that could do with being walked through. But I suspect an afternoon (who am I kidding, a day) on the sofa, reading blogs and watching YouTube clips is definitely in order first.