First job of the day was to tender my resignation as co-chair of the local Horticultural society. I used to get paid quite handsomely to deal with sarcastic and petty wankers, but I certainly wasn't going to that for free as a volunteer.
The abridged version of events was that a poster redesign took place.* The abomination was distributed with a request for feedback and I provided a couple of comments** instead of tearing the thing to shreds and doing it myself.
The designer*** decided to get pissy and questioned my understanding of design and finished off with, if you think you can do better, do it yourself.
The society is a real ball ache and, in my opinion is at the end of its life. I have tried making a number of suggestions to encourage new membership and make the club more accessible and inclusive, but these have been met with indifference and a strong desire to continue doing things as they have always been done.
They had therefore given me an easy way out and I politely resigned, pointing out that I was not a good fit for a committee where common courtesy falls by the wayside when requested feedback is given.
I have subsequently received an non-apology from Mr Pissy, recognition of my organisation skills, ideas and enthusiasm, followed by requests to reconsider my decision ... Yep, they can go and fuck themselves!
Now on to important matters ... The Rotamatiser.
After topping up the larger of the raised beds, 30% and I headed over to Tewkesbury to the commercial premises of Gizzy and Jules. When we last met up they advised than an elderly acquaintance had a rotorvator for sale at a very attractive price of sixty quid. We leapt at the offer and then the old Duffer went cold on the idea and decided that he would hold on to it ... arse!
However, a couple of weeks ago Gizzy got in touch to advise that the Rotamitiser was now definitely available and we leapt again. We spent a lovely morning catching up with G&J and the Rotamatiser looked in great condition. It even still bore the little label from its most recent service.
After an hour or so of coffee and chat, we loaded the little red beast in to the back of the Defender and headed back home. A quick lunch was eaten and the little monster was unloaded and plonked in the veg patch.
An hour later I can report that it is awesome in a wrestling with a bear whilst trying to excavate to the centre of the earth sort of way. It was certainly a work out, but the results are amazing. The vegetable garden is now a tilled masterpiece and I am just a little sad that events and weather have meant that we have missed the planting window for some of our favourite crops.
Still, not to worry, we'll find something to grow that isn't beetroot or Pak Choi.
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* and it still looked like an eight year old had been let loose with a desktop publishing application
** I really was restrained, surprising, I know! I suggested we decide on either left or centre justification rather than both and that we tidied up the final elements at the base of the poster relating to sponsors and access to schedules.
*** This is stretching the definition of that word to a monumental extent
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