So, I’m now an allotment holder. But I’m unclear on the terminology. Does that make me an Allotmenter, an Allotmentist, an Allotment Practitioner, or something I’ve not yet thought of? I’m sure I’ll have many more questions over the coming months (and years, if I manage to keep the Allotmentation going). The burning issue, though, is one which worries me on a daily basis.
It is a well known fact that the majority of Allotmentists are men. As such, they have (literally) a built in advantage in that they are able to ‘pee on the move’ with minimal need for preparation or forethought. However, how do Allotmentationers of the female variety get by? So far, I’ve held it in until I’ve got home. My allotment, you see, is not of the upmarket variety with toilets provided, and we are surprisingly short of bushes behind which one might achieve a certain degree of privacy (except for clumps of stinging nettles, and I’ve never been the most daring thrillseeker in the world). So really, how do I cope? Men are advised to pee on their compost heaps, to encourage faster biodegrading of the ‘organic matter’, but it would take a far more brazen spirit than I to climb up and then squat upon the heap of horse manure which passes, at present, as my compost heap.
As far as I can see it, I have a couple of options. 1. Develop greater bladder strength (although I do pretty well, especially after two children!). 2. Build myself a small cubicle over part of a compost heap, to use as an open air toilet. 3. Buy my shed, put up curtains and buy a Shewee. Then discreetely dispose of contents of bottle onto compost heap in nonchalant manner.
Decisions, decisions. As you can tell, this issue has been occupying my mind for some weeks now, and I still haven’t reached a satisfactory conclusion! It’s all very well if I were gardening in a remote field with only cows or sheep for company. But allotmenteering with many gentlemen around, only two of whom were my side of sixty, makes the issue somewhat more difficult to resolve.