I get my plot

So, I have a 'phone message. Eric from the allotment had rung. 'Do you still want a plot?'  Do I still want a plot? Oh yes! I punch the air. I'm alone. I can do this.
I ring back. 'Is now convenient to take a look?' We are both free, so off I trot to meet him. Its not far, just around the corner, under the old brick railway bridge and I'm there; at those enticing locked gates that I am soon to have a key to.
We meet. Eric is a silver haired, sun tanned man of seventy in shirtsleeves with a strong grip. Well he would, all those years of digging.
I am advised of allotment etiquette and rules as we go and I learn the business with the key and the padlock. We walk past neat plots; weedy plots; plots with chickens; plots with fruit cages; ones that have been there for years, their forests of asparagus ferns gently swaying; and shining new plots, eager and burgeoning; plots worthy of promising newcomer awards, I'm told. Eric is a mine of information, and, I hazard a guess, a little bit of a gossip with a twinkle in his eye.
We walk for ever. I'm shown parking places. Phew! The community shed, the compost toilet that the key also opens...double phew. And finally, plot 85 (I think) right at the far end, but, I am assured, in the sunniest part.
Of course, it's covered in nettles, but Eric tells me that's a good thing, it means the soil is rich and nutritious.
We walk the perimeter. Potatoes, hollyhocks, raspberries, Sweet William. A rickety shed, with its door off its hinges but with a waterproof roof, nestles against the tall hedge that surrounds the allotments. There are even a couple of potting tables slung in a corner for regeneration.
Visions fill my mind... Gertrude Jecklesque cottage gardens, parterres, serpentine sweeps and circular beds, with a sun dial in the centre. I can't wait to get home and hit Amazon, order a few books to drool over. I plan to be there at the crack of dawn to start clearing.
A leisurely stroll back, a gift of  scented sweet peas, a quick look in the seed shed, then paperwork done - and three months rent free arranged starting August. We say adieu.