Let's make one thing clear from the off… there has been a terrible mistake, I wasn’t supposed to be here, it wasn’t supposed to be this way.

I should be on an all-day session with my mates, leering at Brookes’ student gals and mulling whether it will be Bodrum or Kebab Kid on the way home. But I’m not.

Instead, I’ve got an A4 pad in front of me - not even concentrating on Football Focus - and I can’t quite decide whether potatoes are a false economy.

In October, when the hat and gloves were stuffed at the back of the drawer, this was a great idea. Getting an allotment would be the making of me. Back to my earthy roots, ok, so I have really got any.

But the committee handed me a corner in good nick anyway and it was all going to be a breeze. I was going to make Tom and Barbara Good Life blush at the sheer wealth of my crop.

Now winter has bitten life at this east Oxford patch is not a bed of roses, or lettuce, cauliflowers or even parsnips for that matter, hell the weeds seem to find the soil offensive.

Then there’s been the abuse from the colleagues – not from mates, they don’t know. Who would have thought there were so many innuendo-laden jibes about carrots?

But I’ve had all the Arfur Fowler gags thanks, so you can stick your banter… and don’t come crying to me when you want a juicy marrow.

Allotments are for pensioners. It doesn’t matter that Links Allotments in Barracks Lane is far from a WI meet or outdoor Conservative club.

I am 29 and not the youngest eagerly beavering away with a hoe – there are plenty who think they are Hugh “look at my chickens” Fearnley-Whittingstal out here.

But it seems to be something only the older generations can do well.

There is no point in being holier than thou about the whole thing – going organic, growing your veg ain’t going to save the world.

But I can’t stand giving cash to supermarkets and, while I am not hypocritical enough to say no-nay-never to the chains, I would like to be able to fill the larder without queuing for 17 hours in Cowley Road Tesco.

So, the plan is to let you know about my progress. For now I can tell you: a) digging kills b) growing pineapples is out c) don’t engage neighbours into green fingered gossip – they know more than you.

And, by the way, potatoes are a false economy.