On Saturday we dug this seasons potatoes at the allotment. As the high twenties degree sun beat down on us I was reminded of how as a child of 8/9/10 years old I would help my cousins to pick potatoes. They were potato farmers so it didn't just take an hour or so, it was long days of picking potatoes out of the muddy ground and throwing them into large wooden crates.
It is funny the specifics that stick out in my mind...
Temperature- Instead of baking in the sun I remember being wrapped up like an onion and wearing gloves as the potatoes which were caked in mud were so cold to touch.
Food- The best part of the day was lunchtime...walking back to the farmhouse for a steaming hot bowl of Irish stew.
Payment- I was always miffed that at the end of the day I was given £5 while my older brother received £20.
Despite my annoyance at being paid less (I don't even remember spending the money...knowing me, I probably put it straight into my bank account!!!) I always wanted to help out. I think it was being part of the gang, having fun and spending time with my older male cousins (I was a bit of a tom boy!).
Ohhh the memories :)
Now, I'm going to get started on dinner...a Spanish omelette with our freshly dug potatoes.
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