Uncle Bob

Uncle Bob was not my real uncle. He was an old bloke who lived down our street, but all us kids called him Uncle. He was a friendly sort and gave us home made lemonade and biscuits when we played in his garden. He grew masses of bright, flashy flowers and rows of vegetables, but we were all welcome as long as we were careful where we stepped. His pride and joy was his leek bed that boasted tall, fat stems, like baby trees, bursting from its banked-up soil.

A few years ago he offered to teach me to make a garden of my own. Ours was a bit of a wreck, and he said if I came over after school, by myself, he would show me his secrets. So that is how I learned about planting and germination and how seed forms when the male and female flowers get together. How you set up compost by peeing on it; and how you grow the best leeks by starting with a really deep trench and putting a dead animal in the bottom before you plant. For the nutrients.

Bob went away last year, around the time that I dug my own leek bed. No-one knew why. He just put the house up for sale and left. No goodbyes or anything. But I already knew enough to make our garden the best in the street.

I learned a lot from Uncle Bob. I learned to do as I was told, and not to cry out when it hurt and never to tell anyone about ‘our little secret’. I learned how to look out for myself. Oh yes, I learned much more than gardening. And this year my leeks won prizes at the local show.

18/3/2011