Weight; leave it out!
Hours worked; not long
As bed no 2 was almost ready I went armed with my onion setts, and shallot sets – thousands of them, I love onions and put them into just about everything I cook – rhubarb crumble excepted. Being prone to disorganisation I made a real effort to make notes about where each variety was planted: I went for the block system rather than rows, so that if one lot came out before the others, I could utilise the space by growing lettuce or something quick without having to trample on the slow-coach ones. I had about 6 bags of them, some labelled helpfully ‘contains 50 setts’ the others ‘250 grammes’. Thank you!
Have you any idea how much room 50 onions takes up? Neither did I. the instructions said four inches apart, so I smiled smugly, pleased that I hadn’t gone totally metric, and began to gnaw my way into the tough plastic packet. (Memo to self; remember to bring scissors next time). Four inches apart multiplied by (or divided by) 50 setts takes up an area slightly bigger than a tea-tray. I labelled them – having thought to bring a pen that writes on plastic labels, and then I marked the area with some of the stones I was saving for the great wall of Norfolk (you’ll be able to see it from the moon).
In went the Red baron onions, the Stuttgarter Giant (they’d better be; it’s the local produce show soon and I want to !wow! everybody) and Sturon, and others with names too forgettable to mention.
And still the bed isn’t full! Rumour has it that blackbirds like to hoik onion setts out of the ground, I don't know if it is some sort of retaliation against humans for taking pot-shots at birds, but I can't think of any reason for them to do it. Do they perhaps think that there is a luscious juicy worm just curled up underneath trying to get 40 winks?
Whatever. I decided to snip (for snip, read bite) the wizened-up tops off so as to remove temptation and secure a reasonably successful crop. I went home with onion-breath and removed all temptation from hubby-with-an-idea.