Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories - The Allotment Keeper (Premium)

Episode Date: February 25, 2020

This is a preview episode. Get the full episode, and many more, ad free, on our supporter's feed: https://getsleepy.com/support. The Allotment Keeper  Narrated by Thomas Jones. Join a charming lad, who loves to spend time growing fresh fruits and veg.     About Get Sleepy Premium: Help support the podcast, and get: Monday and Wednesday night episodes (with zero ads) The exclusive Thursday night bonus episode Access to the entire back catalog (also ad-free) Premium sleep meditations, extra-long episodes and more! We'll love you forever. ❤️ Get a 7 day free trial, and join the Get Sleepy community here https://getsleepy.com/support. And thank you so, so much.  Tom, and the team. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hi, Thomas here. You're listening to a preview episode. You can enjoy the entire story tonight by subscribing to our supporters' feed. There you'll get access to the entire back catalogue, bonus episodes, and more, and it's all completely ad-free. Click the link below to learn more and thank you so so much. Me and the team really appreciate your support. 6.30am. Already a bright, fresh morning has engulfed the peaceful suburbs of South Yorkshire. It's the early stages of British summertime. Bob finds himself stirring from a restful sleep. himself stirring from a restful sleep. As per usual his body clock naturally wakes him up at half past six plus or minus two minutes either side. He realises his shoulder is pressed against the novel that he was reading in bed. It's not the first time he's scrunched

up the pages and lost track of his progress through the book. All thanks to his apparent inability to keep his eyes open once his head hits the pillar. Now though, he feels re-energized. And on a sunny Saturday morning like this, there's only one thing on Bob's mind. His allotment. He sits up and shuffles out of bed, trying not to wake his darling wife. She prefers to wake for the morning alarm, set for quarter past seven to start his day. It's a swift change of clothes. Pajamas make way for a cotton polo shirt and his favourite pair of shorts, despite their

years of wear and tear. Next, it's into the bathroom for a quick freshen up. A splash of cold water on the face, a hasty brush of the teeth, and a gargle of mouthwash to clear his throat. By 642, he's out the front door, with a strap supported wicker basket over his shoulder. Into the crisp, morning air. Bob loves to get out at this sort of time, especially on weekends. Unlike on weekdays, where various commuters are leaving the house early to beat the rush hour traffic, Bob finds himself alone as he wonders along the footpath. The sun is beaming through a clear opening in the sky. The temperature gradually rising as Bob feels the warmth of the morning sun on his skin.

He feels the warmth of the morning sun on his skin. He likes the morning sun best. It feels lighter and fresher than in the latter parts of the day. There are quaint cottages on either side of the street. Most residents are suitably house proud and most attractive front lawns and flower beds too. The cottages are all 18th century stone built which make for a very traditional British look and feel. Across the street Bob spots a lady walking her dog. He's seen her before at this time, and often wondered if she has trouble sleeping. She never looks quite as sprightly as him, despite being at least 15 years younger.

Her dog on the other hand is full of gusto. A white and brown King Charles Spaniel. Sniffing the grassy verges and wagging its tail. Adorable, thanks Bob. As the lady approaches on the opposite footpath, Bob smiles and nods, before exchanging typically short and sweet British pleasantries. Glorious, isn't it? He exclaims. The Spaniard springs with excitement in Bob's direction,

but is instantly jerked back on his lead. Come on Teddy, he doesn't want you bothering him,' says the lady. "'Although, in truth, Bob would love to say hello to the little aptly named hound.' "'Nevertheless, Bob carries on through the residential streets, before taking a left down a signposted public footpath. In the UK, public footpaths and bridal ways are scattered all over the country. Most are regularly conserved, particularly if they're part of national walking trails. They offer up some delightful adventures and plenty of serenity. This footpath stretches across a few miles' worth of Yorkshire countryside. But Bob only has to walk a fifth of that

distance to reach the local allotments. you