Three per cent success rate nothing to shout about

1:36pm Thursday 1st May 2008

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A HEAVY cold has taken its toll on me for the past few weeks to the point where my voice has become little more than a husky whisper. Think Mariella Frostrup mixed with Patsy Kensit, unfortunately without the big lips and big hair, and you get the picture.

Children have enjoyed mummy being unable to shout orders from the top of the stairs and have played it to their full advantage.

I have taken to whispering my commandments and using hand gestures but family seem to be very frequently mishearing me. So it is that "no you can't have another biscuit" is heard as "have as many as you like - take the whole packet."

I have decided that I need to up my vitamin intake although helpful sister informs me of a new report that says people who take vitamins die sooner than those who don't.

Thank her for that piece of information and chew on a vitamin C tablet wondering how many hours I've got left.

A trip to the allotment puts a smile on my face. I rush back to collect husband to witness my moment of triumph. From the dark earth have emerged 10 parsnip seedlings.

After four years I am a success. I have tamed and conquered this root vegetable and I don't care who knows it.

I can't wait to tell my friends later and I announce it over coffee like an expectant mother.

My moment of triumph is short-lived when a friend (although this status could be under review) looks bemused and asks me how many seeds I planted. "Probably about 300," I say, not sure where she is going with this line of questioning.

"So that's a three per cent success rate then," she says and returns to her coffee.

Return home and make a mental note to only share my "success" story with other allotment folk. Surely they will understand?